A Cowboy's Angel

Don’t look at him. Do not look at him.

She looked at him.

Zap!

That was what his stare felt like. Zing. Zoom. Zam.

“More internet research?” he teased.

Breathe.

“Actually,” she all but wheezed, “I’m a vet.”

He slammed on the brakes. She had to throw her hands forward to avoid slipping off the seat.

“What?”

They’d made it to the shed, but one glimpse into his eyes and she realized she’d shocked him. Good. If she kept him on his toes, maybe then he wouldn’t spot the way she blushed every time their gazes met.

“A vet. Graduated two years ago. That’s part of what I wanted to talk to you about. I have some ideas about the aftercare of horses with an injury like Dasher’s.”

She really wished he would quit looking at her like that. It made her all kinds of uncomfortable and...quaky inside. Yes, quaky, especially since she was closer than she’d ever been to him before. She could see up close how perfectly his features all melded together into a picture of utter male handsomeness.

“Where’s your practice?”

“I don’t... Well, I mean, I do have one. I mean, I could if I wanted to, and I do, sort of....”

She took a deep breath. “I work for nonprofits, mostly. Did a year in Mexico and Chile gelding stallions for rural farmers. These days I’m focusing on problems that are closer to home. I work for a temp agency that specializes in placing veterinarians. It means I have to travel a lot, but that’s okay. Working temp jobs gives me lots of free time to focus on CEASE.”

There. That hadn’t sounded so bad. He didn’t need to know that she’d been looking for full-time work for months now. Let him think she selflessly devoted herself to her cause.

He turned off the cart. “Be right back.”

“What? Wait. I’ll go with you.”

“No, no. Just stay there.”

He left her there sitting all alone.

She slumped against the seat in disappointment. She’d been hoping for a “Good for you,” maybe even a “Wow, I’m impressed,” but all she saw was his impressive backside disappear inside the shed.

You should be grateful he put some distance between the two of you.

Instead she dwelled on her disappointment at his nonreaction, and that worried her all the more. What did she care if he wasn’t impressed by her vocation? He was a racehorse owner. The enemy.

A handsome enemy.

She covered her face with her hands and groaned. She had the hots for him, all right. And she had them bad.

“Not good,” she heard herself say.

Not good at all.

* * *

A VET.

Zach pulled the string on a brand-new bag of grain, the threads sliding free with a pop-pop-pop-pop, all the while trying to figure out what would make a woman go through years and years of schooling only to toss them all away and found an organization like CEASE.

Crazy.

Well, he knew that. Everyone at Golden Downs knew it. When she and her buddies had picketed the entrance to the track, she’d arrived in a horse costume, complete with long flowing mane made out of yarn.

Crazy.

Outside he heard the rhythmic thud of horses’ hooves. Belle and Baby must have spotted his arrival and were now galloping to the shelter in anticipation of gorging themselves on grain. One of them nickered along the way.

“Hold on, hold on,” he said, opening a feed door along the back wall. Two anxious faces stared back at him, ears pricked forward, eyes bright. He smiled. “Did you honestly think I would forget about you?”

They nodded their heads as if answering his question but were really just exhibiting equine impatience, manes flying, forelocks waving. He poured out the feed. They acted starved. The two of them had all the grass in the world, but he gave them supplements to help the growth of their unborn foals.

“Slow down, you guys. You’re going to choke.”

“I, ah, I think I’m going to head on up to the house.”

He just about jumped. His horses, too, both of them lifting their heads as if to ask, “Who’s that?”

A pain in his backside.

She stood in the doorway, her pretty hair lit up like a sorrel-colored horse. He’d never seen hair such a golden-red before and not for the first time he wondered if it was fake or natural. He would bet natural.

“I brought something I should warm up, and so if you don’t mind...” She motioned back toward the parking area. “I don’t want it sitting in the sun, either.”

“Hang on. I’ll drive you.”

He tossed the horses some grain, then all but threw the scooper back into the garbage can he used to store their feed and closed the lid with a snap before turning back around and brushing by her, their arms grazing. She jumped as if he’d hit her with flames.

It drew him up short. “Did I scratch you or something?”

“No, no.” She wouldn’t meet his gaze. “I’m fine. Just a little off-balance.”

He spotted the blush then. Saw how her pulse beat at the base of her neck. The way her gaze darted all over the place—anywhere but at him.

She was aware of him.

He stepped closer. “You sure you’re okay?”

She nodded. “Oh, yeah. Great. Just hungry. That’s why I want to start heating up my dish. I didn’t have any lunch and I’m starved. I’m such an idiot sometimes. I really should eat. Surprised I don’t just keel over sometimes.” She made the sound of a splat, using her forearm to mimic falling over. “Plop. That’s going to be me one day. Not eating makes me light-headed. That’s all.”