he’s wrapped me up before.” Dev helped him to his feet and the cowboy looked down at her as he cradled the injured arm to his chest. “Much obliged, ma’am, I mean Doc,” he said with a wan smile.
“You’re welcome.”
She stood beside Dev and watched the cowboy walk to the barn. Then the rancher met her gaze. “Much obliged.”
“Don’t mention it.” She covered her eyes to shade them from the sun and smiled up at him, glad that he’d seen her as competent and not just a yellow-bellied coward who was afraid of horses.
He folded his arms over his chest. “What can I do to thank you?”
“There’s no need. It’s what I’m trained to do.”
Before he could respond further, the sound of running feet caught their attention. Hannah turned and saw a pint-sized cowboy hurrying as fast as his little legs could go. On his heels and trying to keep up was her mother.
“Hi, Daddy,” the little guy yelled when he was still a few yards away.
“Ben,” Dev called back.
He took her elbow to guide her from the corral. Hannah fought the urge to yank her arm away from the sizzle that swept over her shoulder and down into her breasts. Pulling back would show weakness. And if there’s one thing being the youngest in her class through college and med school had taught her, it was to never let anyone see that you weren’t completely in control.
So she let him guide her out and watched him latch the gate, the muscles in his back rippling beneath his fitted cotton shirt. She swallowed the sound of female appreciation that rose in her throat, but the corresponding flutter in her stomach gave her trouble. It was as if she was plummeting down the longest drop on a roller coaster. She struggled for a facade of sophistication and polite, but cool interest, because inside she was ga-ga and hot enough to melt diamonds.
She watched Dev watch his son run toward him. The man’s lean, strong, muscular body tensed and somehow she knew he was bracing for impact. Several moments later, the little guy hurtled into the strong arms waiting for him. Dev held the boy close for a moment, then unselfconsciously kissed his cheek while he settled his son on his forearm and ruffled his brown hair.
“Hey, squirt,” he said. “Did you and Polly have fun?”
The boy nodded. Then he noticed Hannah. He pointed. “Who’s she?”
“It’s not polite to point, Ben. This is Polly’s daughter, Hannah.”
Her mother joined them, a little out of breath. “Don’t you remember, Ben? I told you she was coming today. She’s a doctor. Hi, honey.”
“Hi, Mom.” Hannah went into the arms her mother held out. Now she was home. It was several moments before they had hugged their fill and stood side by side, arms around each other’s waists. Hannah noticed Ben was still watching her.
The boy’s eyes grew wide. “Do you give people shots?”
“Sometimes. But only if it will help them feel better.”
He rested a small arm around his father’s strong neck and gave Dev’s shoulder a couple of pats. “I don’t like shots.”
“Me either,” Hannah agreed.
“Me either,” Polly said.
Pleasure swept through her again, feeling her mother beside her. She’d been a teenager when Hannah was born and was still a young, attractive woman. People often said they looked more like sisters than mother and daughter—the same blue eyes and blond hair. Hannah had always been grateful that she didn’t take after her father.
For a moment, she rested her cheek against her mom’s. “It’s so good to see you. I’ve missed you.”
“You’re too busy to miss me,” Polly answered, chuckling, “but it’s sweet of you to say so. You’re a sight for sore eyes. But too thin.”
As if on cue, Ben announced, “I’m hungry. Is it time for an afternoon snack yet? Aren’t you hungry, Daddy?”
“I am,” he agreed, meeting Hannah’s gaze. “How about you? You’ve had a long trip.”
“Starved.” She stared at his mouth, the fine chiseled shape. Before she could stop the thought, she wondered what it would be like to kiss Dev Hart. It was an absurd idea, but she couldn’t help thinking about what those smiling lips would feel like pressed against her own. She shook her head to chase away the image. “Thirsty, too,” she added.
She must be dehydrated from standing in the hot Texas sun too long. It was the only explanation for her wayward thoughts concerning the man’s mouth.
“Then let’s go,” he said. He easily lifted his son to his broad shoulders and started up the gentle rise to the house.
Hannah and her mother exchanged small talk as they walked arm in arm behind Dev. Hannah admired the long, easy stride of the man. The obvious close bond between father and son warmed her heart. She was curious about the woman Dev had married. And what had happened between the two that had left him alone raising his son.
A few minutes later they climbed up the steps of Dev’s imposing, two-story, white clapboard house with wraparound porch and overhang. The roofline was an interesting array of peaks, with a circular turret and balcony in front. She counted two chimneys that she could see and lots of decorative wood adorning the railing.
Her mother led the way into a large foyer with living room on one side, dining room on the other, each decorated with crown moulding and chair rails. Their footsteps rang on the distressed oak floor as they continued down the hall. Entering an enormous kitchen, she glanced around, noting the new-looking appliances, hunter-green granite countertops and cooktop range with oven below and built-in microwave above. Right across from it was a ceramic-tiled island with an overhang on the other side where four oak stools sat.
On the far side of the room in a nook complete with window seat, stood an oak table with ten matching ladderback chairs. Tasteful paper in a floral pattern hung on the bottom half of the walls while light beige paint contrasted beautifully with the white chair rail and decorative mouldings on the top half.
“This is charming,” Hannah said, looking around in awe.
“Thanks. My folks redecorated about a year ago.” Dev lifted Ben from his shoulders. “Go wash up, son.”
“I already did, Dad.”
“How long ago?” Dev rested his hands on lean hips as his son looked up at him with a slightly guilty look.
“In town,” Ben answered vaguely.
“About four hours ago,” Polly confirmed.
“Quit stalling, squirt.”
“Okay,” he grumbled, then disappeared down another hall.
“He’s going to need some help reaching the sink,” Polly said, as she set out cookies, milk, fruit and iced tea. “I’d send his father,” she commented, giving the hunk hovering nearby a phony stern look, “but nine times out of ten more water winds up
