Her Cowboy's Christmas Wish (Harlequin American Romance) (3 page)

“Ethan?”

His head snapped up when Caitlin called his name. “Yeah.”

“Right this way.”

He followed her down the corridor. Once he was weighed and his height taken, she escorted him to an examination room, where he sat on the table and she at the computer terminal.

“Why are you here today?”

Seriously? She knew darn well why. “I fell from a horse last night and hurt my shoulder,” he answered, playing along.

“What part of your shoulder?”

“You examined me.”

She gave him a very professional smile. “It’s procedure.”

He cupped his shoulder with his palm.

More questions followed, and she typed the answers into the computer. During the entire process, Caitlin treated him like any other patient, concerned, interested and like they hardly knew each other.

What did he expect? She was at work.

What did he want?

The answer was easy. To see that light in her eyes.

“The doctor will be right in to see you.” Before closing the door, she smiled and said, “I’m glad you came in today.”

He was tempted to jump to the wrong conclusion and reminded himself that her remark was medically motivated. Hadn’t she urged him last night to have his shoulder looked at?

After a brief consultation with the doctor, Ethan waited again, this time for the X-ray technician. Returning from the imaging room, he waited a third time.

The doctor’s news was good. Nothing was torn, only soft-tissue damage.

“Can I start riding again right away?” he asked.

“I recommend you take a few days off.” The man studied him over a pair of reading glasses. “A week would be better.”

“But there’s no reason I can’t ride.”

“You could sustain further injury.”

“Okay.” Ethan nodded. He had every intention of getting on a bronc tonight, and he was pretty sure the doctor knew it.

“I’m going to prescribe an anti-inflammatory and a muscle relaxant. If you aren’t better in two weeks, call for a follow-up exam or see your regular doctor.”

“Thanks.”

“You know—” the man removed his reading glasses “—if you’re really that determined to ride, you might consider physical therapy to speed your recovery.”

“Appreciate the advice, Doc.”

“The nurse will be in shortly with your prescriptions.”

Another wait, this one not long. Caitlin returned with three slips of paper in her hand. Ethan had to admit the sight of her in pale green scrubs was as surreal as seeing her in sweats. In college, she’d majored in journalism, with ambitions of being a TV reporter, and always dressed fashionably.

Admittedly, the scrubs looked cute on her, the loose material not quite hiding her very nice curves.

“Here you go.” She handed him the prescriptions. “The doctor wrote one for physical therapy as well, in case you need something for the VA.”

“I’ll probably skip PT.”

“Why? It will help.”

He stood, folded the prescriptions and placed them in his wallet. “The nearby facilities don’t take VA insurance. And I can’t afford the time off work to drive into Phoenix.”

“What if…what if I provided your physical therapy?”

“You?”

“I have some basic training. I’m not licensed, but I’ve taken several classes. For Justin. During his rehab, he’d strain his upper body muscles. And now that he’s involved in wheelchair athletics, he’s always overdoing it.”

“I can relate.”

“You two are alike when it comes to that.” Her expression softened, and suddenly she was the seventeen-year-old transfer student who’d been assigned to sit next to him in calculus class.

Ethan was caught off guard and needed a moment to collect himself. “I don’t think the VA will pay for a private physical therapist.”

“I won’t charge you.”

He shook his head. “I can’t ask you to do it for free.”

“Who said anything about free?” She smiled then,
really
smiled, and he caught another glimpse of the confident, carefree girl he’d fallen in love with. “I was hoping we could negotiate a trade.”

She had his attention now. “I’m listening.”

She motioned him into the hall.

“I’m on the Holly Days Festival committee,” she said.

The residents of Mustang Village had put on a big community-wide event the previous Christmas. None of the Powells had attended, but they’d heard about it. From everyone.

“The committee, huh?”

“You know me.”

He did. She’d been an involved student in both high school and college. Cocaptain of the cheerleading squad, student council, National Honor Society.

“I thought the festival was strictly for residents.”

“I’m a resident,” she said brightly as they entered the reception area.

“Really?”

“I’m renting a condo. In the complex right across the street.” She nodded toward the window. “I get to walk to work every day. Well, not to the middle school. But here.”

Working
and
living in Mustang Village. Was that another
bit of interesting information Gavin had conveniently forgotten to tell Ethan?

“The committee is hoping to try something different this year,” Caitlin went on. “The parade was fun, but more people participated than watched.”

“You saw it?”

“I did. I almost drove to the ranch, too.”

Just how often
had
they narrowly missed crossing paths since his return home?

“Anyway, I remembered that old farm wagon of yours and was wondering if we could decorate it and have you drive people around the park.”

“No one’s used that wagon in years.”

Her hopeful smile fell. “Well, it was just an idea.”

Ethan had no desire to participate in the Holly Days Festival. Nothing involving Mustang Village appealed to him—with the exception of Caitlin. And she appealed to him far too much for his own good.

But hadn’t he just told Gavin this morning that he wished he could make amends with Caitlin? Wagon rides at the festival wouldn’t exactly clean the slate. But it was a start, and obviously important to her.

“We could pull the wagon out of storage,” he said. “See what kind of shape it’s in.”

“Great!” Her green eyes lit up.

This was the moment Ethan had been waiting for, only her excitement was over an old wagon. Not him.

“Why don’t you come out to the ranch?”

“When?”

Ethan massaged his left shoulder. “As soon as possible. I still haven’t qualified for the jackpot next weekend.”

“What about tomorrow, say around noon? I have a two-hour break between the school and the clinic. If the wagon is usable, we’ll set up a schedule for your PT sessions.”

“Sounds good.”

“Hey, Caitlin.” The receptionist held up a manila folder.

“I have to go,” she said hurriedly. “Thank you, Ethan.”

She collected the folder and called the next person’s name.

Once again, Ethan was just another patient—and it didn’t set well with him.

In days gone by, Caitlin would have driven directly to the main house at Powell Ranch and parked there. Instead, she followed the signs and went around behind the cattle barn to the designated parking area.

“It’s weird,” her brother said from beside her in the passenger seat. “The place is totally different, but not different.”

“Yeah, weird.” She opened her door and stepped out.

Memories that had hovered the last few days promptly assailed her. Most were good, gently stroking emotional chords. One wasn’t so good, and it quickly overpowered the rest.

“When was the last time you were here?” Justin asked, already maneuvering his legs into position.

“Oh, about nine years ago.”

Nine years, four months and…she mentally calculated…eighteen days. Not that she was keeping track.

She’d arrived that last evening intending to join the Powells for dinner, something she often did in the past. Even before the meal was served, Ethan took her out to the front courtyard and sprang the news on her. He’d enlisted. Signed up a week after his mother’s funeral. A rather important decision he hadn’t even bothered discussing with Caitlin.

A fresh wave of hurt and anger unbalanced her now, and she paused, holding on to the van door for support.

Guess she hadn’t moved past her and Ethan’s bitter breakup, after all.

It must be seeing the ranch again. Or seeing
him
again—for the third day in a row.

Enough is enough,
she told herself. She could manage working with Ethan, seeing him at the clinic, administering his physical therapy. He was nothing more than her patient.

With actions honed from much practice, she removed her brother’s wheelchair from the rear of the minivan and carried it to the passenger side, where he waited.

She’d have set the wheelchair up for him, except he insisted on performing the task himself. Rather than argue, she gave in. Being independent was important to Justin, and she respected his wishes even though her instinct was to do everything for him.

After hoisting himself into the wheelchair, he and Caitlin made their way to the stables. She figured the office was as good a place as any to start looking for Ethan.

“Sure are a lot of people here,” Justin commented, rolling his wheelchair along beside her.

A half-dozen riders were gathered in the open area near the stables. Several more were in the arena, riding alone or in pairs. One enthusiastic mother clapped while her preschooler trotted a shaggy pony in circles.

“I hear it’s even busier when school lets out for the day.” Caitlin remembered when the only people on the ranch were the Powells and the cowboys who worked for them.

“I’ll wait here,” Justin said when they reached the small porch outside the office.

He could easily maneuver the three steps leading onto it, but he probably wanted to give Caitlin and Ethan some privacy.

Easing open the door, she stepped tentatively inside the
office. The sight of Ethan sitting with his back to her at an old metal desk gave her a start.

Not again,
she chided herself. No more going weak in the knees every time she saw him.

Clearing her throat, she said, “Hello,” then “Oh!” when the ancient chair swiveled around with a squeak.

The man wasn’t Ethan.

“Hey.” Gavin greeted her with a wide grin. “What brings you here?”

Caitlin vacillated between enormous relief and equally enormous disappointment. “I’m meeting Ethan.”

“You are?”

Obviously he hadn’t informed his family of her visit.

She didn’t know what to make of that.

“If he’s not around—”

“He’s here. Shoeing one of the horses.”

“Is it all right if I interrupt him?”

“I’m thinking he won’t mind.”

Caitlin wavered, then blurted, “Can I ask a favor of you?”

“Sure.”

“My brother’s outside. Would you check on him for me? Without making it look like you’re checking on him?”

“How’s he doing?”

“Good. And he’s perfectly capable of handling himself in new situations.”

“But you worry.”

“Constantly.”

“Not a problem.” Gavin’s cell phone rang. “Let me take this call first.”

“Thanks.” Caitlin hurried across the office and out the door leading to the stables.

It was like stepping back in time.

The rich, familiar scents of horses and alfalfa filled her nostrils the moment she crossed the threshold. Daylight,
pouring in from the large doorways on both ends of the long aisle, illuminated the interior better than any electric-powered lights could. Soft earth gave beneath her feet with each step she took. A barn cat dashed behind a barrel, then stuck its head out to peer warily at her.

Caitlin glanced around, her breath catching at the sight of Ethan not thirty feet away. He was bent over at the waist, the horse’s rear hoof braced between his knees as he used a file to trim it.

How did he do that with a prosthetic leg?

How did he do that with a bad shoulder?

Fine, he was resilient. She appreciated that quality in an individual. Admired it. But shoeing a horse while injured was just plain stupid. So was bronc riding.

She started to say something, only to close her mouth when Ethan released the horse’s hoof and straightened.

He stood tall, his blue work shirt rolled up at the sleeves and stretched taut across his muscled back. The leather chaps he wore sat low on his hips, emphasizing his athletic frame. She couldn’t remember him ever looking better. Or sexier.

When they were in high school, Caitlin had liked him best in his football uniform. Next best in the tux he’d worn to their senior prom. She’d been the envy of every girl on the cheerleading squad, and had relished the attention.

What an idiot she’d been. Shallow and silly—placing too much importance on things that didn’t matter.

Ethan turned, and she wished suddenly she was wearing nice clothes. Not an oversize hooded sweatshirt and scrubs.

“You made it.”

“I did.”

He set the file he’d been using down on a box of tools. Next, he removed his chaps and draped them over the box. “Ready to take a look at the wagon?”

“Is that Chico?” Caitlin advanced a step, then two. “Can I pet him?”

“Of course.”

“I remember him. I can’t believe he’s still around.” She stroked the old horse’s soft nose, and he snorted contentedly.

“That’s right. You and Chico are already acquainted.”

Caitlin was never much of a horse enthusiast, though she’d tried her best to share that interest with Ethan. When they did go on a ride, Chico was her mount of choice.

“He’s Isa’s horse now.”

“Isa?”

“Sage’s daughter. Gavin’s soon-to-be stepdaughter. She’s six and in love with this old guy.”

“I’m glad.” Glad the horse Caitlin remembered with such fondness was adored by a little girl and that some things around Powell Ranch hadn’t changed.

“Do you still ride?”

“No, not since Chico.” She didn’t want to admit to Ethan how much riding—or any physical activity that held risk—scared her. She hadn’t been like that before Justin’s accident. Quite the opposite.

“I’ll take you sometime.” Ethan moved closer.

Caitlin’s guard instantly went up. She continued stroking Chico’s nose in an attempt to disguise her nervousness—at Ethan’s proximity and the prospect of getting on a horse again. “We should probably take a look at the wagon. I have to get to the clinic soon.”

They left the stables. Chico, Ethan assured Caitlin, would be just fine tied to the hitching rail, and was probably already napping.

As they rounded the corner of the cattle barn, she noticed lumber stacked nearby, along with a table saw, ladder and toolboxes.

“What are you building?”

“We’re converting the old barn into a mare motel for the stud and breeding business. Clay and his men are helping us.”

Ethan took her elbow and guided her around more piles of construction material. She started to object and insist she was fine, then changed her mind. Like the other night when he’d insisted on unloading her medical supplies, it would be like arguing with a brick wall.

He led her to a corner of the barn where, behind a tower of wooden crates and beneath a canvas tarp, the wagon stood.

“Not sure we can get much closer,” he said, stepping over a roll of rusted chicken wire.

Caitlin squeezed in behind him, acutely aware of his tall, broad frame mere inches from her.

He leaned over and lifted the tarp, revealing a wagon wheel. Without thinking, she reached out and touched the worn wood.

A memory of Ethan driving her around the ranch in the wagon suddenly surfaced, of her bouncing in the seat beside him and both of them laughing. How carefree they’d been back then.

She suddenly missed those days with a longing she hadn’t felt in years.

Stop it!

Dwelling on that period of her life would do more damage than good. She and Ethan might have renewed their acquaintance, but that was all it was, an acquaintance. All it could be. Even if she finally got past the hurt he’d caused her, he rode saddle broncs for pleasure and broke green horses for a living. Caitlin wasn’t capable of caring for someone who courted danger on a daily basis. Not after what had happened to her brother. She couldn’t live with the constant worry and fear.

“Going to need a few repairs.” Ethan wiggled a loose spoke.

Caitlin was relieved to get back on track. “And lots of cleaning.”

“Hope you have enough volunteers.”

She studied the wagon with a critical eye. “I might need more.”

“I’ve been thinking. Would it be all right if we asked for a small donation? Completely voluntary, of course. Sage, my future sister-in-law, is starting a wild-mustang sanctuary here on the ranch, and she’s having trouble obtaining funding.”

“What a good idea. I can’t imagine the festival committee having any objections.”

“That’ll make her happy.”

Caitlin brushed dirt off the wheel. “When can we get started?”

“Saturday soon enough?”

“We’ll have to be here early. I’m due at Clay’s arena after lunch.”

“Me, too.”

“You’re not riding!”

“Planning on it.”

“Your shoulder!”

“I can’t afford to miss any practices.”

“Isn’t it dangerous to ride with an injury? I’d think your reaction time would be slowed.”

“I’ll wrap it.”

As if that would fix everything. His attitude was exactly the reason they would never date again, no matter how attractive she found him. Riding broncs was bad enough. Riding broncs with an injury was idiotic.

“I’ll have a couple of the guys help me pull the wagon out,” he said.

“I recommend you
supervise
a couple of the guys.” She leveled a finger at him. “If you’re going to ride on Saturday, you need to rest that shoulder and let it heal.”

“Right.”

He was impossible.

“I need to get going.” She stepped over the roll of rusted chicken wire. “I don’t want to leave Justin alone too long.”

“You brought him with you?”

“He doesn’t have class on Fridays and sometimes comes by for a visit.”

“Justin drives?”

“A Honda Civic. Modified, of course.”

“And he lives with your parents?”

“No, he has an apartment near campus with a roommate.”

“Not that it’s any of my business,” Ethan said, “but if the kid lives on his own and drives, don’t you think he’ll be okay alone for a few minutes?”

She sighed with exasperation…at herself. “I can’t help worrying about him. Call it big-sister-itis.”

“His accident wasn’t your fault.”

Caitlin went still, swallowed a gasp. No one other than Justin and her parents knew of her guilt and the reason for it.

How in the world had Ethan guessed?

Stupid question. He’d always been able to read her better than anyone.

She averted her face, hiding the sudden storm of emotions churning inside her. Him, this place, the memories of happier times—it was all too much.

Ethan took her elbow again, helping her navigate the narrow path through the construction material. His fingers were warm and strong and far too familiar. Any hope Caitlin had for control flew out the window.

“You weren’t at the river that day,” he said, his voice gen
tle with understanding. “You couldn’t possibly have been involved.”

His compassion and sympathy were her undoing.

“I encouraged him to go,” she admitted, her throat burning. “If he had stayed home, he wouldn’t have landed on that rock and damaged his spinal cord.”

“Come on. Name one senior at our school who didn’t tube down the river and jump from the cliffs the week after graduation. It was a rite of passage.”

“Justin didn’t normally disobey our parents.” As she had, she thought. “I told him he was eighteen and it was time he stopped acting like such a geek. I drove him to his friend’s house, then lied to our folks about where he was going.”

“Teenagers disobey their parents. It’s what they do.”

“Being popular was so important to me in high school. Justin was such a nerd back then. Shy and scrawny and brainy. He was practically invisible. I thought if he went tubing, he’d break out of his shell. Because of me, his life is ruined.”

They came to a stop at the entrance to the barn. Ethan released her elbow, only to drape an arm around her shoulders.

“Trust me, you weren’t the only one pressuring him to go tubing. His buddies were, too.”

It would have been nice to lay her head on Ethan’s chest as she’d done so often in the past, and let him comfort her.

She might have, if she wasn’t convinced she’d be sending him the wrong message.

Wiping her eyes, she tried to ease away from his embrace.

He’d have none of it.

“When someone’s seriously injured, like Justin, it’s pretty common for family members and friends to blame themselves. My dad and brother were the same way. Kept thinking if they’d been there for me when Mom was sick, and after she died, I wouldn’t have enlisted and been caught in that ex
plosion. Eventually, they came to accept it was my decision to join the marines, and rotten luck I was standing where I was that day. Same with Justin.”