Jazzy gazed at Brooks in stunned silence. Had he asked her to do what she thought he’d asked her to do?
“I asked you to marry me. I know you think I’m absolutely crazy.”
“No…” she started and didn’t know quite how to finish or where to go from there.
“This isn’t a joke, Jazzy. I’m not out of my mind. Really. But I need to solve this problem with my father. The only way he’s going to let me in on the practice, the only way he’s going to rest and stop wearing himself down, is if I’m really settled. I have to give him what he wants.”
“I don’t understand,” she said very quietly.
“He wants me to have a wife, so I need a wife. The way we’ve worked together the past week, I just know you’d be perfect.”
“So you really do want me to marry you?”
“It wouldn’t be a real marriage.”
When he said those words, she found herself amazingly disappointed. How stupid was that?
* * *
MONTANA MAVERICKS: RUST CREEK COWBOYS Better saddle up. It’s going to be a bumpy ride!
Marrying
Dr Maverick
Karen Rose Smith
Award-winning and bestselling author KAREN ROSE SMITH’s plots are all about emotion. She began writing in her early teens, when she listened to music and created stories to accompany the songs. An only child, she spent a lot of time in her imagination and with books—Nancy Drew, Zane Grey, The Black Stallion and Anne of Green Gables. She dreamed of brothers and sisters and a big family such as the ones her mother and father came from. This is the root of her plotlines, which include small communities and family relationships as part of everyday living. Residing in Pennsylvania with her husband and three cats, she welcomes interaction with readers on Facebook, Twitter @karenrosesmith and through her website, www.karenrosesmith.com, where they can sign up for her newsletter.
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To my family and friends who love animals as much as
I do—my husband Steve, my son Ken, Suzanne, Sydney,
Liz, Jane, Ryan, Heather, Abby, Sophie, Chris. Special
thanks to my pet sitter, Barb, whose expertise allows
me to leave home with a free heart.
Contents
Chapter One
Brooks Smith rapped firmly on the ranch-house door, scanning the all-too-familiar property in the dusk.
His dad didn’t answer right away, and Brooks thought about going around back to the veterinary clinic, but then he heard footsteps and waited, bracing himself for this conversation.
After his father opened the door, he looked Brooks over, from the beard stubble that seemed to be ever present since the flood to his mud-covered boots. Tending to large animals required trekking through fields sometimes.
“You don’t usually come calling on a Tuesday night. Run into a problem you need me for?”
Barrett Smith was a barrel-chested man with gray hair and ruddy cheeks. At six-two, Brooks topped him by a couple of inches. The elder Smith had put on another ten pounds over the past year, and Brooks realized he should have been concerned about that before today.
There was challenge in his dad’s tone as there had been since they’d parted ways. But as a doctor with four years of practice under his belt, Brooks didn’t ask for his dad’s advice on animal care or frankly anything else these days.
“Can I come in?”
“Sure.”
Brooks entered the living room where he’d played as a child. The Navajo rugs were worn now, the floor scuffed.
“I only have a few minutes,” his father warned him.
