Her Cowboy Boss

She set the tray, a clean dishcloth draped over it, next to his kit on the blue barrel. Stark sat atop a wooden box and glanced at the tray.

“What’s this?”

“Your breakfast. Callie made pancakes and bacon. There’s coffee, too, and it’s getting cold. How do you take it?”

He frowned at her for a long moment before saying, “Black.”

She picked up the mug and held it out to him. “Here you go.”

He took the mug, sniffed, sipped, then slugged back a healthy gulp, sighing. “Why does coffee taste so good when you’re hungry?”

“I drink it, but I’ve never much learned to appreciate it,” she admitted.

“Why do you drink it, then?” he asked, after swallowing another mouthful.

“Two words,” she answered. “Shift work.”

“That’s right. Nurses work around the clock in shifts.”

“And caffeine and shift work go hand in hand.”

“I hear you.” He set the mug back on the tray, picked up the whole thing and brought it down to his lap. Balancing the tray on his knees, he slathered butter on the pancakes with the tines of his fork, then poured on the syrup, saying, “This is mighty nice. Of Callie.”

Meri rolled her eyes. “You don’t give an inch, do you?”

He squinted up at her. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really?”

“You going to stand there and watch me eat?” he muttered, stuffing pancake into his mouth.

She turned away. Okay, if he didn’t want an apology, she wouldn’t give him one. Instead, she moved to the horse, reaching out a hand to signal her presence. Trailing her fingertips over the butternut hide, now dull with illness, she crooned to the animal.

“Hey, boy. How ya doin’?” The horse blew through his nostrils, as if acknowledging her concern, and Meri smiled. “You need to get well. The Straight Arrow wouldn’t be the same without you.”

“That horse doesn’t understand anything but your tone,” Stark pointed out laconically. “You know that, right?”

“Do you always have to be so surly?” she asked, turning just in time to spy a yellow-on-gold-striped cat slink around the bottom of the blue barrel. “Tiger!” she gasped, starting forward, “How did you get out?”

Following her horrified gaze, Stark set the tray aside and slid to the floor, easily capturing the cat as it attempted to streak past him. Crossing his legs at the ankles and bending them at the knees, he brought the cat into his lap, scratching it under the chin.

“Well, well. Haven’t seen this guy before. Tiger, is it?” He held up the cat in one hand, checking its eyes, nostrils and teeth with the other. “Healthy fellow.”

“I don’t know how he got out,” Meredith said, fighting the urge to snatch Tiger out of Stark’s grasp. “I keep him in my room.”

The doctor checked the animal’s paws and inclined his head. “Well, a declawed cat shouldn’t be out-of-doors, especially not in the country, but a bedroom seems like a small space to keep a cat in.”

“It’s not permanent,” she snapped. “He’s usually in my apartment in Oklahoma City. And he was a lot more content before Tux...”

Stark glared at her but otherwise ignored the truncated comment. “Why don’t you give him the run of the house? Just keep him out of your dad’s room. Contrary to myth, clean animals do not spread contagion.”

“I know that. It’s just that everybody forgets, and they let him out.”

“Poor kitty,” Stark cooed, bringing Tiger nose to nose with him. “Nobody looking out for you.”

“I look out for him!” Meredith protested hotly. “He’s all I have now.”

Stark sent her a glance of pure censure, a silent scold that spoke louder than words. She hadn’t meant it, of course. She had her whole family, a growing family, which she seemed doomed to leave. And what right did he, a loner by choice, have to judge her, anyway?

Thankfully, Ann called her name just then. Otherwise, she—the quietest, smallest, youngest, mildest, most timid of the Billings siblings—might have been tempted to do Stark Burns harm. Real physical harm.

Chapter Two

“Meri? Meri, the cat’s out!”

“We’ve got him,” Meredith called, keeping her voice even. Stark had to admit, if only to himself, that he liked baiting her.

Ann showed up an instant later, breathless, her long, bright hair billowing about her shoulders as she strode confidently down the aisle behind the stalls. “Oh, good.”

She was an attractive woman, Ann Billings Pryor, but a mite too in-your-face for Stark’s taste, not that Ann’s little sister didn’t have spunk, too. She’d given him what-for since he’d picked up her injured cat off the road out there next to the house the day of her brother’s wedding.

At Ann’s heels trotted the spotted Australian shepherd, Digger. While Ann and Dean’s son, Donovan, was in kindergarten half days, the dog seemed to have attached itself to Ann. Tiger instantly took exception to the dog, bowing his back and hissing.

“Now, now,” Stark crooned, soothing the cat.

“I was looking for you,” Ann explained to her sister. “I just cracked the door to your room, and the thing darted out. Dean was coming in the house behind me, and the next thing I knew, it was out the front door.”

“Really, Ann,” Meredith admonished. “How many times do I have to tell you...and with the dog beside you, no less.”

What a prissy little thing she was—prissy, pretty, intelligent and entertaining, an unwelcome combination as far as Stark was concerned. He had no interest in developing a connection with any woman. Still, he felt an odd compulsion to mend fences if he could.

“Let’s see if we can introduce these two,” Stark suggested, holding out a hand and clucking his tongue at the dog. “Come here, Digger. Come on. That’s a boy.”

The dog trotted over, and Tiger tried to climb Stark’s chest using his back claws. When a cat was declawed, only its defensive front claws were removed. Without those, they had only their tiny teeth and speed for protection. Stark held fast to the feline, talking softly. The dog sniffed and snuffled, while the cat hissed and bared its teeth without making much impression.

“Our cats never act like that around Digger,” Ann complained. “Of course, most of them are still kittens.” She immediately clapped a hand over her mouth.

“I already spilled the beans on that,” Stark admitted with a sheepish grin, while Meredith glared at her sister and the dog trotted off to check out the horses, which were shuffling around their stalls in hopes of being let out soon.

Ann stiffened her spine and squared her shoulders, folding her arms. “Meredith,” she said sternly, “you cannot have another cat.”

“Why not?” Meredith demanded. “Because I’m the crazy cat lady?”

Stark sighed as Ann glared daggers at him. “One or two spoiled cats do not make a crazy cat lady,” he said calmly. In point of fact, Meredith Billings was the furthest thing from a crazy cat lady he’d ever seen. And there was that smile at last.

He almost wished he hadn’t seen it. She was really quite amazingly lovely without it. With it, she took away his breath. Her teeth blazed white in her oval face, her plump pink lips forming a perfect bow, while her cheeks plumped into creamy apples and her blue eyes sparkled.

Which was more than enough reason to keep his distance.

The timer on his phone tootled, as if reinforcing that fact. Putting his feet on the floor, he rose in one smooth movement, thrust the cat into its owner’s arms and shouldered past the two sisters to the horse.

“I’ll just remove the IV bag before I go,” he said, “and be back as soon as I can.”

“I’ll be glad to help,” Meredith began.

He gave her instructions as he worked. Nothing much could be done, but someone needed to keep an eye on the animal to make sure it didn’t take a turn for the worse before Stark could get back to set up another IV bag and administer more medication. Meredith watched as he removed the connections, leaving the catheter in the jugular.

“I’ll make sure Rex knows, and I’ll be out here every moment that Dad doesn’t need me.”

“Dean and I will be here as much as possible, too,” Ann promised.

Stark wrapped a bandage loosely around the catheter. “If his breathing seems labored, call me. I’ll drop what I’m doing and come.”

“Thank you,” Meredith whispered, looking worried.

Stark squeezed past her and picked up his kit, intending to walk out, but for some reason he couldn’t. He turned to face them, searching for some comfort to offer.

“Seems to be a law of nature,” he finally said, “that the crisis comes in the wee hours. I’ll be on hand.”

“We’ll be keeping watch on him all day,” Meredith said, stroking her cat.

He knew in his gut that meant she would be keeping watch. What he didn’t know was why that tied his stomach in knots. He didn’t have time to worry about it, though.

As usual, he had a full day of appointments, most of them in the field. Rushing to and from one ranch, farm or homestead, he managed to work in an IV bag for Soldier then return to remove it. Meredith was on hand both times.

By nightfall he’d put nearly 200 miles on his truck and missed lunch, so he’d swung by the diner on his way out to the Straight Arrow. He needed a shower, a shave and a change of clothes, but he couldn’t imagine when he’d have found the time. Seeing Meredith trying to coax Soldier to do more than hang his nose over a bucket of nutritional mash came as no surprise. As he walked down the aisle of the stable, the sick horse pushed his broad forehead against her chest. After a moment, she wrapped her arms around the horse, bending her own head to the animal’s neck, essentially hugging him, before scooping up a handful of the grainy glop in the pail. Soldier lipped up some of the mash.

The sight did strange things to Stark’s chest, things he didn’t even want to think about, and that made his voice sharper than he intended.

“You been feeding him by hand all day?”

She nodded defensively. “It’s the only way he’ll eat.”

“Has he taken any water?”

“A little.”

Stark laid his kit on the barrel and took off his hat, hanging it on the corner of the stall gate. “Well, he’s on IV fluids. But he needs to up his intake if he’s going to beat this. Is there anything special he likes to eat?”

“I don’t know. I’ll ask. He sure doesn’t seem to care for that mash of yours.”

Her phone dinged. She slipped it from her hip pocket with her clean hand and swiped her thumb over the screen. “Speaking of eating, Rex says we should come in. Dinner’s on the table.”

Stark held up the paper bag in his left hand. “Brought my own.”

Meredith frowned at him. “You must know Callie expected to feed you.”

“I’m not here to eat. I’m here to take care of your horse,” he retorted, turning his back to unzip his kit.

“How come you make it so hard to be nice to you?” she demanded.

“How come you make it so hard for me to do my job?” he shot back.

“We’re just trying to help.”

“And I appreciate it, but this is what I do.” He turned to face her, holding up the IV bag and moving toward the pole.

“Don’t you ever make time to see your friends and family?” she asked, backing up a step.

“I see my friends all the time,” he said, hanging the bag. “On the job.”

“What about your family?”

Exasperated, he glared at her. “Aren’t you supposed to be eating dinner? Or would you rather keep me from mine?”

Huffing, she grabbed a rag from the corner of the stall and scrubbed her hand, muttering, “Why do I even try?”

She slid by him and stalked off down the aisle, only to halt after several steps and pivot on her heel, bringing her hands to her narrow waist.

“Just so you know,” she told him smartly, “while I’m praying for my dad and his horse, I’m going to be praying for a wholesale change in your lousy attitude.”

“Don’t bother,” Stark snapped over his shoulder. He turned back to his task, mumbling, “God forgot I existed a long time ago.”

He felt her shock and her stare. For a long moment, he expected her to speak again, to demand an explanation or make an argument. Instead, she quietly turned and left him. Grimacing, Stark wished he’d kept his mouth shut. He didn’t know why she so easily goaded him into saying too much, but if he wasn’t on his guard with her every moment, he found the most surprising things coming out of his mouth.

Sighing, he rubbed the horse’s mane, grumbling, “Will you get well so I can get out of here?”

The more distance he could put between himself and Meredith Billings, the better it would be.

* * *

Shaking her head, Meredith went into the house and washed up. Sometimes that man made it awfully difficult to be civil to him. Yet, she couldn’t fault his dedication. He’d clearly worked all day, and here he was, ready to take his dinner in a stable and spend the night tending a sick horse. Plus, everyone else in the family thought he was the next thing to perfect, even after she’d told them that he wouldn’t be joining them for the meal. As the family bowed their heads over the food, she prayed they were right, at least about his skill as an animal doctor.

Her father’s nausea had lessened during the day, and he seemed a little stronger than he had been the day before, but between him and Soldier, she’d had a busy day and suddenly felt quite tired.

Rex spooned the lasagna Callie had made onto his plate, then looked at Meredith and asked, “How’s Soldier?”

“I don’t know. You’ll have to ask Burns. You know, I didn’t realize what a sweetheart he is.”

“Stark?” Rex asked in obvious surprise.

“No! Soldier. Stark Burns is a grumpy, pigheaded... Well, never mind that.”

Rex chuckled. “I think Burns is a better man than you know. As for Soldier, he’s always been especially good-natured for a stud.”

Meri shook her head. “If you say so. I remember him being frisky and stubborn.”

“All studs are that way at first,” Rex told her. “Soldier settled down right nice, though. That’s why so many of Dad’s friends want to breed him. Albright brought some mixed Arabian stock from South America to Texas especially for Soldier. Too bad he brought along a mosquito, too. Even the mosquitos like our Soldier. But at least we get our pick of the colts, and Albright’s insurance will cover the vet fees. He’ll keep any fillies and remaining colts, so it’s still not a bad deal.”

“And we get another stud,” Meri said.

“That’s the plan.”

Meredith smiled. “I hope he looks like Soldier.”

“He is a fine-looking animal,” Rex agreed. “A little Soldier look-alike might soothe Dad if the worst happens.” Rex shook his head as if to clear away the gloom and dived into his food. After chewing and swallowing, he said, “I don’t know how Stark keeps up the pace. He’s planning to spend the night again, isn’t he?”

“I assume so.”

“How he manages his practice all on his own, I’ll never know. That man’s busier than a whole litter of hunting dogs.”

“Why doesn’t he have help?” Meredith wondered aloud.

“I’ve wondered that myself,” Callie put in, setting a big dish of banana pudding on the table. “He’s obviously very successful.”

“Ooh, my favorite,” Rex said, pulling Callie down for a kiss.

Callie chuckled. “You say that about every dessert I serve you.”

“I was talking about you.”

Meredith sighed mentally, telling herself that it was unbecoming to envy one’s siblings. Still, it hurt to feel so...alone. Callie pulled away from Rex and finally took a seat at the table.

“Meri, do you think Wes could manage a bowl of pudding?”

“I think so,” Meredith answered. “I’ll take some to him in a minute.”

She quickly finished her meal, filled a small bowl with banana pudding and carried it into her father’s room. He sat in his hospital bed, watching television.

“Hi, sugar. What you got there?”

“Sugar,” she quipped. “Callie made banana pudding.”

“Yum.” He clapped a hand to his flat middle. “Sounds good. I hope it’s still warm.”

“It is.” She handed over the bowl and a spoon.

Wes scooped up the first bite, humming his approval. With the second bite, he said calmly, “When are you kids going to tell me what’s going on?”

Meredith’s gaze shot to his. She bit her lip, half-a-dozen options rolling through her mind, but she wasn’t about to lie to her father. Not telling him troubling news was one thing, lying to him was something else. On the other hand, this wasn’t her decision alone. She walked to the door and stepped out into the hall, calling for her brother. Rex came right away, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

“What’s up?”

“The jig,” Meri said grimly.

“I’m not deaf,” Wes said, “and I keep hearing Stark’s name, along with Soldier’s.”

Rex sighed and gave him an abridged version of the facts, leaving out the detail that they’d found Soldier down in his stall.

Grimacing, Wes set aside his pudding. “And you’re sure it’s encephalitis?”

“Yes. But Stark’s doing all he can,” Rex said.

Wes nodded. “I don’t doubt it.” He glanced at Meredith, adding, “You don’t give him enough credit. I’ve never known a better animal doctor than Stark Burns. I haven’t seen many people doctors better than him. And I’ve had my share of both.” Meredith couldn’t argue with that. Wes handed the bowl of pudding back to her. “Think I’ve lost my appetite.”

He reached over to his bedside table and picked up his Bible, opening it to Philippians. She knew exactly where he was going. They’d traveled this familiar ground together quite often lately, whenever it was necessary to turn off troublesome thoughts. She’d read the familiar verse to him so often—or vice versa—that she had it memorized.

“Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.”

A job. Staying close to her family, especially her dad, not slinking away in petulant envy. That was noble, right, admirable. Wasn’t it?

She wondered suddenly why Stark Burns didn’t have help with his practice. Maybe he couldn’t find anyone willing to put up with his special brand of obnoxiousness. Or maybe he just hadn’t found anyone with enough experience to be of use to him.

Hmm.

It was worth a shot. If he hired her, she might even be able to bring a little real compassion to his practice.

She blew a kiss to her dad and left him talking to Rex, then went out to fill another bowl with pudding. Draping a napkin over it, she took a spoon and slipped out to the stable.

Burns was nowhere to be seen—until she drew closer and looked over the stall gate. He reclined on his camp bed, fully clothed, reading on a handheld device.

“Come to check on the horse or badger me?” he asked without so much as glancing in her direction.

She ignored her spiking temper—really, no one else did that to her—and held out the bowl. “I brought you some dessert.”

He sent her a dark look, switched off the device and got up to ease past the end of the gate.

“That smells like banana pudding,” he said, carefully reaching for the bowl.

“It is.”

He made a face.

“Don’t you like it?”

“Love it.”

She laughed. “Sorry to have pleased you.”

Ignoring that, he gingerly took the spoon, crossed to the toolbox, sat and began to eat.

“Good, huh?”

“Very.” He continued to eat for several minutes, while she petted the horse and looked around. Suddenly he said, “What do you want, Meredith?”

She tried not to jump at the deep, dark timber of his voice. “I, uh, want to help. In any way that I can.”

He said nothing to that, just set aside the empty bowl and spoon. She examined the IV setup carefully from the suspension hook to the catheter, just as if she hadn’t already done so repeatedly.

“Very neat job of stitching,” she commented. “Do you always stitch the catheter in place?” She didn’t think he would answer at first, but eventually he did.

“Even the smartest animals will instinctively pull out something sticking in their bodies, either intentionally or accidentally. Soldier might be too sick now to even realize it’s there, but as soon as he’s better, he’ll try to get rid of it. Can’t let that happen. And there’s always the chance someone messing around with him will accidentally pull it out.”

She shot him a dry look. “I’m the last person you have to worry about doing that.”

“Just saying.”

“And I’m just saying that I could be of real help to you if you’d trust me and show me what you need.”

“Is that right?”

“I’d go so far as to say that I could help out with a lot of things if you’d let me,” Meredith told him cautiously, thinking that had gone easier than she’d expected.

He folded his arms. “Ever seen a calf caught in barbed wire for so long that gangrene has set in?”

She blinked, caught off guard by the change of subject. Then she saw the quirk of his lips just before he swiped the napkin over them, and she knew instantly what he was doing.

Parking her hands at her waist, she said, “No. But I’ve seen plenty that would turn your stomach.”

They traded horror stories for several minutes, each more gory than the last.

Laughter bubbled up inside of her when she finally called a halt. “Look, I’m a nurse. You can’t gross me out.”

A grin split his tanned face. “Okay. Okay. Truce?”

She nodded. “Truce.”

“And thank you for the pudding,” he said, picking up the empty bowl and spoon.

Well, that was progress. She took a deep breath and plunged in.

“I was wondering...hoping you might need help with your practice.”

Sobering, he looked down. “No.”

Just like that? “But Rex says that you work alone and that your practice is huge, too big for one person.”

“Meredith,” he said, “I prefer to work alone.”

Her heart sank. Could he be that antisocial? “Truly?”

Shoving up to his feet, he held out the spoon and bowl, nodding. “That’s how I like it.”

“But why? Everyone says you have too much to do.”

“That’s true,” he admitted. “Still, I prefer to work alone.”

“That makes no sense.”

“Why would you want a job with me, anyway?” he asked, not even denying her last statement. “You’re an RN.”

“In case you haven’t noticed,” she retorted, snatching the bowl from his hand hard enough to rattle the spoon, “there aren’t any nursing jobs around here. I’ve checked. I’ve put my name on the lists at all the hospitals and nursing homes within driving distance, and I’ve registered with every local agency. I’ve even called every doctor I can find. No one’s hiring.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “What happened to your job in the City? I’m sure Rex told me you were taking a leave of absence.”

“It’s still there,” she admitted glumly. “But I don’t want to go back. I want to be here. I’ve always wanted to be here. Not at the ranch, necessarily, but in War Bonnet or close to. And now that Rex and Ann have come home to stay...” She shook her head.

“Just because they’ve come home doesn’t mean you have to,” he pointed out.

“You aren’t listening. I never wanted to be in the City. You’ve no idea how much I hate it there. I want to come home. I want to be close to my family. I wasn’t really close to Dad growing up, and now it’s like we have a second chance. I want to be here.”

“I want lots of things I’ll never have again, Meredith,” he said softly. “I’m sorry, but I can’t help you.”

Struggling not to weep, she shrugged, nodded and whispered, “Well, I have some time yet. Something might turn up.”

“You never know,” he said.

But she did know, all too well, and his tone said that he did, too. The truth was that if he didn’t give her a job, she wasn’t going to find one locally. The worst part was that it didn’t make sense. She could help Stark. They could help each other.