Her Cowboy Boss

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 (#u06533cf9-665b-54d0-8c9e-1cf0bed3aac9)

“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.