One Night with a Red-Hot Rancher

“What did your stepfather do?” she asked, aghast.

“There wasn’t much that he could do, since I paid the doctor.” His face hardened. “And it wasn’t the first disagreement we’d had. He was poor and proud with it. He’d have let her suffer rather than admit he couldn’t afford a doctor visit or medicine.” He looked down at her. “It’s a hell of a world, when people have to choose between food and medicine and doctors. Or between heated houses and medicine.”

“Tell me about it,” she replied. She colored a little, and hoped he didn’t notice. “Kell and I do all right,” she said quickly. “But he’ll go without medicine sometimes if I don’t put my foot down. You’d think I’d be tough as nails, because I stand up to him.”

“He’s not a mean person.”

“He could be, I think,” she said. She hesitated. “There was a man I dated, briefly, in San Antonio.” She hesitated again. Perhaps it was too soon for this.

He stepped closer. “A man.”

His voice was very soft. Quiet. Comforting. She wrapped her arms around her chest. She had on a sweater, but it was chilly outside. The memories were just as chilling. She was recalling it, her face betraying her inner turmoil. He’d hit her. The first time, he said it was because he’d had a drink, and he cried, and she went back to him. But the second time, he’d have probably killed her if Kell hadn’t heard her scream and come to save her. As it was, he’d fractured her arm when he threw her over the couch. Kell had knocked Frank out with a lamp, from his wheelchair, and made her call the police. He made her testify, too. She held her arms around herself, chilled by the memory.

“What happened?”

She looked up at him, wanting to tell him, but afraid to. Frank got a six-month sentence, but he’d already served three months and he was out. Would he come after her now? Would he be crazy enough to do that? And would Bentley believe her, if she told him? They barely knew each other. It was too soon, she thought. Much too soon, to drag out her past and show it to him. There was no reason to tell him anyway. Frank wouldn’t come down here and risk being sent back to jail. Bentley might think less of her if she told him, might think it was her own fault. Besides, she didn’t want to tell him yet.

“He was a mean sort of person, that’s all,” she hedged. “He kicked my cat. I thought it was terrible. He just laughed.”

His blue eyes narrowed. “A man who’ll kick a cat will kick a human being.”

“You’re probably right,” she admitted, and then she smiled. “Well, I only dated him for a little while. He wasn’t the sort of person I like to be around. Kell didn’t like him, either.”

“I like your brother.”

She smiled. “I like him, too. He was just going downhill with depression in San Antonio. We were over our ears in debt, from all the hospital bills. It’s lucky our cousin died and left us this place,” she added.

Bentley’s eyebrows lifted. “This place belonged to Harry Farley. He got killed overseas in the military about six months ago. He didn’t have any relatives at all. The county buried him, out of respect for his military service.”

“But Kell said…” she blurted out.

Her expression made Bentley hesitate. “Oh. Wait a minute,” Bentley said at once. “That’s right, I did hear that he had a distant cousin or two.”

She laughed. “That’s us.”

“My mistake. I wasn’t thinking.” He studied her quietly. “Well, I guess I’d better go. This is the first Saturday night I can remember when I didn’t get called out,” he added with a smile. “Pure dumb luck, I guess.”

“Law of averages,” she countered. “You have to get lucky sooner or later.”

“I guess. I’ll see you Monday.”

“Thanks again for the pizza.”

He opened the door of the Land Rover. “I’ll take you up on the offer of supper,” he said. “When we set a date, you can tell me what you want to fix and I’ll bring the raw ingredients.” He held up a hand when she started to protest. “It does no good to argue with me. You can’t win. Just ask Keely. Better yet, ask Dr. King,” he chuckled.

She laughed, too. “Okay, then.”

“Good night.”

“Good night.”

He closed the door behind him. Cappie went back up on the porch and watched him throw up a hand as he drove away. She stood there for several seconds before she realized that the wind was chilling her. She went in, feeling happier than she had in a long time.

CHAPTER FIVE

CAPPIE FELT awkward with Bentley the following Monday. She wasn’t sure if she should mention that he’d been to her house over the weekend. Her coworkers were very nice, but she was nervous when she thought they might tease her about the doctor. That would never do. She didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable in his own office.

Having lived so long in San Antonio, she didn’t know about life in small towns. It hadn’t occurred to her that nothing that happened could be kept secret.

“How was the pizza?” Dr. King asked her.

Cappie stared at her in horror.

Dr. King grinned. “My cousin works at the pizza place. Dr. Rydel mentioned where he was taking it. And she’s best friends with Art, who runs the software store, so she knew he was taking the game over to play with you and your brother.”

“Oh, dear,” Cappie said worriedly.

Dr. King patted her on the back. “There, there,” she said in a comforting tone. “You’ll get used to it. We’re like a big family in Jacobs County, because most of us have lived here all our lives, and our families have lived here for generations, mostly. We know everything that’s going on. We only read the newspaper to find out who got caught doing it.”

“Oh, dear,” Cappie said again.

“Hi,” Keely said, removing her coat as she joined them. “How was the game Saturday?” she added.

Cappie looked close to tears.

Dr. King gave Keely a speaking glance. “She’s not used to small towns yet,” she explained.

“Not to worry,” Keely told her. “Dr. Rydel certainly is.” She laughed at Cappie’s tormented expression. “If he was worried about gossip, you’d better believe he’d never have put a foot inside your door.”

“She thinks we’ll tease her,” Dr. King said.

“Not a chance,” Keely added. “We were all dating somebody once.” She flushed. “Especially me, and very recently.” She meant her husband, Boone, of course.

“And nobody teased her,” Dr. King added. “Well,” she qualified it, “not where Boone could hear it, anyway,” she added and chuckled.

“Thanks,” she said.

Dr. King just smiled. “You know, Bentley hates most women. One of our younger clients made a play for him one day. She wore suggestive clothing and a lot of makeup and when he leaned over to examine her dog, she kissed him.”

Cappie’s eyes widened. “What did he do?”

“He left the room, dragged me in there and told the young lady that he was indisposed and Dr. King would be handling the case.”

“What did the young lady do?” Cappie asked.

“Turned red as a beet, picked up her dog and left the building. It turns out,” Dr. King added with a grin, “that the dog was in excellent health. She only used it as an excuse to get Dr. Rydel in there with her.”

“Did she come back?”

“Oh, yes, she was an extremely persistent young woman. The third time she showed up here, she insisted on seeing Dr. Rydel. He called Cash Grier, our police chief, and had him come in and explain the legal ramifications of sexual harassment to the young lady. He didn’t smile while he was speaking. And when he finished talking, the young lady took her animal, went home and subsequently moved back to Dallas.”

“Well!” Cappie exclaimed.

“So you see, Dr. Rydel is quite capable of deterring unwanted interest.” She leaned closer. “I understand that you like to play video games?”

Cappie laughed. “Yes, I do.”

“My husband has a score of over 16,000 on Xbox LIVE,” she said, and wiggled her eyebrows.

Keely was staring at her, uncomprehending.

“My scores are around 4,000,” Cappie said helpfully. “And my brother’s are about 15,000.” She chuckled. “The higher the score, the better the player. Also, the more often the playing.”

“I guess my score would be around 200,” Dr. King sighed. “You see, I get called in a lot for emergencies when Dr. Rydel is out on large animal calls. So I start a lot of games that my husband gets to finish.”

“Kell had buddies in the army who could outdo even those scores. Those guys were great!” Cappie said. “They’d hang out with us when they were off duty. Kell always had nice video gaming equipment. Some of them did, too, but we always had a full fridge. Boy, could those guys eat!”

“You lived overseas a lot, didn’t you?” Keely asked.

“Yes. I’ve seen a lot of exotic places.”

“What was your favorite?”

“Japan,” Cappie replied at once, smiling. “We went there when Kell was stationed in Korea. Not that Korea isn’t a beautiful country. But I really loved Japan. You should see the gaming equipment they’ve got. And the cell phone technology.” She shook her head. “They’re really a long way ahead of us in technology.”

“Did you get to ride the bullet train?” Keely asked.

“Yes. It’s as fast as they say it is. I loved the train station. I loved everything! Kyoto was like a living painting. So many gardens and trees and temples.”

“I’d love to see any city in Japan, but especially Kyoto,” Keely said. “Judd Dunn’s wife, Christabel, went over there with him to buy beef. She said Kyoto was just unbelievable. So much history, and so beautiful.”

“It is,” Cappie replied. “We got to visit a temple. The Zen garden was so stark, and so lovely. It’s just sand and rocks, you know. The sand is raked into patterns like water. The rocks are situated like land. All around were Japanese black pine trees and bamboo trees as tall as the pines, with huge trunks. There was a bamboo forest, all green, and a huge pond full of Japanese Koi fish.” She shook her head. “You know, I could live there. Kell said it was his favorite, too, of all the places we lived.”

“Are we going to work today, or travel around the world?” came a deep, curt voice from behind them.

Everybody jumped. “Sorry, Dr. Rydel,” Keely said at once.

“Me, too,” Cappie seconded.

“Nihongo no daisuki desu,” Dr. Rydel said, and made a polite bow.

Cappie burst out smiling. “Nihon no tomodachi desu. Konichi wa, Rydel sama,” she replied, and bowed back.

Keely and Dr. King stared at them, fascinated.

“I said that I liked Japanese language,” Dr. Rydel translated.

“And I said that I was a friend of Japan. I also told him hello,” Cappie seconded. “You speak Japanese!” she exclaimed to Bentley.

“Just enough to get me arrested in Tokyo,” Bentley told her, smiling. “I was stationed in Okinawa when I was in the service. I spent my liberties in Tokyo.”

“Well, isn’t it a small world?” Dr. King wondered.

“Small, and very crowded,” Bentley told her. He gave her a meaningful look. “If you don’t believe me, you could look at the mob in the waiting room, glaring at the empty reception counter and pointedly staring at their watches.”

“Oops!” Dr. King ran for it.

So did Keely and Cappie, laughing all the way.

There was a new rapport between Dr. Rydel and Cappie. He was no longer antagonistic toward her, and she wasn’t afraid of him anymore. Their working relationship became cordial, almost friendly.

Then he came to supper the following Saturday, and she found herself dropping pots and pans and getting tongue-tied at the table while the three of them ate the meal she’d painstakingly prepared.

“You’re a very good cook,” Bentley told her, smiling.

“Thanks,” she replied, flushing even more.

Kell, watching her, was amused and indulgent. “She could cook even when she was in her early teens,” he told Bentley. “Of course, that was desperation,” he added with a sigh.

She laughed. “He can burn water,” she pointed out. “I had so much carbon in my diet that I felt like a fire drill. I borrowed a cookbook from the wife of one of his buddies and started practicing. She felt sorry for me and gave me lessons.”

“They were delicious lessons,” Kell recalled with a smile. “The woman was a cordon bleu cook and she could make French pastries. I gained ten pounds. Then her husband was reassigned and the lessons stopped.”

“Hey, a new family moved in,” she argued. “It was a company commander, and she could make these terrific vegan dishes.”

Kell glared at her. “I hate vegetables.”

“Different strokes for different folks,” she shot back. “Besides, there’s nothing wrong with a good squash casserole.”

Kell and Bentley exchanged horrified looks.

“What is it with men and squash?” she exclaimed, throwing up her hands. “I have never met a man who would eat squash in any form. It’s a perfectly respectable vegetable. You can make all sorts of things with it.”

Bentley pursed his lips. “Door props, paperweights…”

“Food things!” she returned.

“Hey, I don’t eat paperweights,” Bentley pointed out.

She shook her head.

“Why don’t you bring in that terrific dessert you made?” Kell prompted.

“I guess I could do that,” she told him. She got up and started gathering plates. Bentley got up and helped, as naturally as if he’d done it all his life.

She gave him an odd look.

“I live alone.” He shrugged. “I’m used to clearing the table.” He frowned. “Well, throwing away plastic plates, anyway. I eat a lot of TV dinners.”

She made a face.

“There is nothing wrong with a TV dinner,” Kell added. “I’ve eaten my share of them.”

“Only when I was working late and it was all you could get,” Cappie laughed. “And mostly, I left you things that you could just microwave.”

“Point conceded.” Kell grinned.

“What sort of dessert did you make?” Bentley asked.

She laughed. “A pound cake.”

He whistled. “I haven’t tasted one of those in years. My mother used to make them.” His pleasant expression drained away for a few seconds.

Cappie knew he was remembering his mother’s death. “It’s a chocolate pound cake,” she said, smiling, as she tried to draw him out of the past.

“Even better,” he said, smiling. “Those are rare. Barbara sells slices of one sometimes at her café, but not too often.”

“A lot of people can’t eat chocolate, on account of allergies,” she said.

“I don’t have allergies,” Bentley assured her. “And I do hope it’s a large pound cake. If you offered to send a slice home with me, I might let you come in an hour late one day next week.”

“Why, Dr. Rydel, that sounds suspiciously like a bribe,” she exclaimed.

He grinned. “It is.”

“In that case, you can take home two slices,” she said.

He chuckled.

Watching them head into the kitchen, Kell smiled to himself. Cappie had been afraid of men just after her bad experience with the date from hell. It was good to see her comfortable in a man’s company. Bentley might be just the man to heal her emotional scars.

“Where do you want these?” Bentley asked when he’d scraped the plates.

“Just put them in the sink. I’ll clean up in here later.”

He looked around quietly. The kitchen was bare bones. There was an older microwave oven, an old stove and refrigerator, a table and chairs that looked as if they’d come from a yard sale. The coffeepot and Crock-Pot on the counter had seen better days.

She noticed his interest and smiled sadly. “We didn’t bring a lot of stuff with us when we moved back to San Antonio. We sold a lot of things to other servicemen so we wouldn’t have to pay the moving costs. Then, after Kell got wounded, we sold more stuff so we could afford to pay the rent.”

“Didn’t he have any medical insurance?”

She shook her head. “He said there was some sort of mix-up with the magazine’s insurer, and he got left out in the cold.” She removed the cover from the cake pan and got out cake plates to serve it on. Her mother’s small china service had been one thing she’d managed to salvage. She loved the pretty rose pattern.

“That’s too bad,” Bentley murmured. But he was frowning behind her, his keen mind on some things he recalled about her mysterious brother. If Kell was friendly with the local mercs, it was unlikely he’d gotten to know them in the military. They were too old to have served anytime recently. But he did know that they’d been in Africa in recent years. So had Kell. That was more than a coincidence, he was almost sure.

His silence made her curious. She turned around, her soft eyes wide and searching.

His own pale blue eyes narrowed on her pretty face in its frame of long blond hair. She had a pert little figure, enhanced by the white sweater and blue jeans she was wearing. Her breasts were firm and small, just right for her build. He felt his whole body clench at the way she was looking at him.

He wasn’t handsome, she was thinking, but he had a killer physique, from his powerful long legs in blue jeans to his broad chest outlined under the knit shirt. Beige suited his coloring, made his tan look bronzed, the turtleneck enhancing his strong throat.

“You’re staring,” he pointed out huskily.

She searched for the right words. Her mouth was dry. “Your ears have very nice lobes.”

He blinked. “Excuse me?”

She flushed to her hairline. “Oh, good heavens!” She fumbled with the cake knife and it started to fall. He stepped forward and caught it halfway to the floor, just as she dived for it. They collided.

His arm slid around her to prevent her from going headlong into the counter and pulled her up short, right against him. Her intake of breath was audible as she clung to him to keep her footing.

She felt his chin against her temple, heard his breath coming out raggedly. His arm contracted.

“Th…thanks,” she managed to say against his throat. “I’m just so clumsy sometimes!”

“Nobody’s perfect.”

She laughed nervously. “Certainly not me. Thanks for saving the cake knife.”

“My pleasure.”

His voice was almost a purr, deep and soft and slow. He lifted his head very slowly, so that his eyes were suddenly looking right into hers. She felt his chest rise and fall against her breasts in an intimacy that grew more smoldering by the second. She looked up, but her eyes stopped at his chiseled mouth. It was very sensuous. She’d never really paid it much attention, until now. And she couldn’t quite stop looking at it.

She felt his fingers curling into her long hair, as if he loved the feel of it.

“I love long hair,” he said softly. “Yours is beautiful.”

“Thanks,” she whispered.

“Soft hair. Pretty mouth.” He bent and his nose slid against hers as his mouth poised over her parted lips. “Very pretty mouth.”

She stood very still, waiting, hoping that he wasn’t going to draw back. She loved the way his body felt, so close to hers. She loved his strength, his height, the spicy scent of his cologne. She hung there, at his lips, her eyes half closed, waiting, waiting…

“Where’s that cake?” came a plaintive cry from the living room. “I’m starving!”

They jumped apart so quickly that Cappie almost fell. “Coming right up!” Heavens, was that her voice? It sounded almost artificial!

“I’ll take the coffeepot into the living room for you,” Bentley said. His own voice was oddly hoarse and deep, and he didn’t look at her as he went out of the room.

Cappie cut the cake, forcing her mind to ignore what had almost happened. She had so many complications in her life right now that she didn’t really need another one. But she did wonder if it was possible to put this particular genie back in its bottle.

And, in fact, it wasn’t. When they finished the cake and a few more minutes of conversation, Bentley got a call from his answering service and hung up with a grimace.

“One of Cy Parks’s purebred heifers is calving for the first time. I’ll have to go. Sorry. I really enjoyed the meal, and the cake.”

“So did we,” Cappie said.

“We’ll have to do this again,” Kell added, grinning.

“Next time, I’ll take the two of you out to a nice restaurant,” Bentley said.

“Well…” Cappie hesitated.

“Walk me out,” Bentley told her, and he didn’t smile.

Cappie looked toward Kell to save her, but he only grinned. She turned and followed Bentley out the door.

He paused at the steps, looking down at her with a long, unblinking stare in the faint light that shone out from the windows.

She bit her lower lip and searched for something to say. Her mind wouldn’t cooperate.

He couldn’t seem to find anything to say, either. They just stared at each other.

“I hate women,” he bit off.

She faltered. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“Oh, what the hell. Come here.”

He scooped her up against him, bent his head and kissed her with such immediate passion that she couldn’t even think. Her arms went around his neck as she warmed to the hard, insistent pressure of his mouth as it parted her lips and invaded the soft, secret warmth of her mouth. It was too much, too soon, but she couldn’t say that. He didn’t leave her enough breath to say anything, and the pleasure throbbing through her body robbed her mind of the words, anyway.

Seconds later, he put her back on her feet and moved away. “Well!” he said huskily.

She stared up at him with her mouth open.

His eyebrows arched.

She tried to speak, but she couldn’t manage a single word.

He let out a rough breath. “I really wish you wouldn’t look at me in that tone of voice,” he said.

“Wh…what?” she stammered.

He chuckled softly. “Well, I could say I’m flattered that I leave you speechless, but I won’t embarrass you. See you Monday.”

She nodded. “Monday.”

“At the office.”

She nodded again. “The office.”

“Cappie?”

She was still staring at him. She nodded once more. “Cappie.”

He burst out laughing. He bent and kissed her again. “And they say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach,” he mused. “This is much quicker than food. See you.”

He turned and went to his car. Cappie stood and watched him until he was all the way to the main highway. It wasn’t until Kell called to her that she realized it was cold and she didn’t even have on a coat.

After that, it was hard to work in the same office with Bentley without staring at him, starstruck, when she saw him in between patients. He noticed. He couldn’t seem to stop smiling. But when Cappie started running into door facings looking at him, everybody else in the office started grinning, and that did inhibit her.

She forced herself to keep her mind on the animal patients, and not the tall man who was treating them.

Just before quitting time, a little boy came careening into the practice just ahead of a man. He was carrying a big dog, wrapped in a blanket, shivering and bleeding.

“Please, it’s my dog, you have to help him!” the boy sobbed.

A worried man joined him. “He was hit by a car,” the man said. “The so-and-so didn’t even stop! He just kept going!”

Dr. Rydel came out of the back and took a quick look at the dog. “Bring him right back,” he told the boy. He managed a smile. “We’ll do everything we can. I promise.”

“His name’s Ben,” the boy sobbed. “I’ve had him since I was little. He’s my best friend.”

Dr. Bentley helped the boy lift Ben onto the metal operating table. He didn’t ask the boy to leave while he did the examination. He had Keely help him clean the wound and help restrain the dog while he assessed the damage. “We’re going to need an X-ray. Get Billy to help you carry him,” he told her with a smile.

“Yes, sir.”

“Is he going to die?” the boy wailed.

Dr. Rydel put a kindly hand on his shoulder. “I don’t see any evidence of internal damage or concussion. It looks like a fracture, but before I can reduce it, I’m going to need to do X-rays to see the extent of the damage. Then we’ll do blood work to make sure it’s safe to anesthetize him. I will have to operate. He has some skin and muscle damage in addition to the fracture.”