don’t usually make house calls.”
“Is it on your list of things you never wanted to do, or on your list of things you just never have done?”
In spite of herself, she had to laugh. Shep’s sense of humor was one of his charms. Raina thought about the Victorian where she lived. It would be empty tonight. She’d missed Gina Rigoletti the day she’d moved out to live with her fiancé at his estate. Gina’s sister, Angie, had moved in with her last week. But as a pediatric nurse, she was working the night shift. And her friend Lily was away in Oklahoma with her recently deceased husband’s family. Her husband had been killed in Afghanistan while serving his country.
Raina suddenly realized that at one time she’d craved solitude, but that wasn’t the case now. After Clark died, her grief had gotten held up by everything surrounding September eleventh—the immensity of everyone’s loss, the days of horrible nightmares, the government settlement. She’d watched way too much TV, unable to tear herself away from it, hoping to learn more…to see Clark’s face somewhere. Grief had finally overtaken her the day she’d gone to Ground Zero, seen all the pictures posted and been overwhelmed with the realization that the man she loved was never coming home. Now, nine years later, she felt as if she’d finally found herself again. Returning to Sagebrush, being near her family, had helped her do that.
So here she was, with this rugged single dad asking her to his ranch. “Basically, you want my help with Manuel?” she asked Shep directly.
“Yes. I’ll pay you outright. Insurance won’t be involved.”
“You could hire a nurse, though I really don’t think you need one.”
“First of all, I don’t want a nurse. I want you.” The way he said it seemed to disconcert him a little. The muscle in his jaw jumped. But he went on anyway. “And secondly, I have two other boys to think about. They’re going to be worried about Manuel. I want to make sure they don’t have anything to be afraid of by the time they go to bed tonight.”
Making a sudden decision—from sheer instinct—Raina said, “No need to pay me. Let me tell my housemate where I’ll be. She’s working upstairs. Then I’ll come home with you for a little while, just to see how things are going.”
After an automatic last check of Manuel’s monitors, a look into his adorable dark brown eyes, Raina left the recovery room, wondering what in the heck she was doing.
As Raina’s hybrid followed Shep’s shiny new blue crew-cab truck down the gravel lane, she thought about how absolutely different she was from the rancher. The types of vehicles they drove were only the tip of the iceberg. So why was she following him to his ranch as if…
As if she were attracted to the man?
She was here for Manuel’s sake. That was the beginning and the end of it. Though she was curious how a single rancher managed to handle two rambunctious boys and a baby. Wasn’t it part of her duty as a doctor to find out?
The beautifully maintained split-rail fencing lined the lane. Pecan trees and live oaks kept the road in shade. To the left she spotted horses, at least ten or twelve, and a new-looking lean-to that could shelter them from the weather. When she drove a little farther, she caught sight of a huge red barn with Red Creek Ranch painted in shiny black letters above the hayloft doors. On the right stood a spacious two-and-a-half-story ranch house that looked as if it had been recently refurbished with tan siding and dark brown shutters. The wide, white wraparound porch appeared to be an addition to the original structure. A swing hung from its ceiling. She caught sight of curtains fluttering at the windows and was surprised to find herself thinking the house looked like a home.
To the left of the house, set back, a three-bay garage stood waiting. Shep headed for the parking area in front and she followed, her tires crunching on the stones as she parked beside him. Then she went to the back of his truck to help him with Manuel. The little boy was awake, but not altogether himself.
“He’s usually yelling and screaming to be let out of his car seat by now.”
“Give him some time to get back to normal.”
As Shep reached for Manuel, the two-year-old began to cry. “What did I do?” Shep asked worriedly.
“Are you grumpy after you have a tooth drilled?”
“Sometimes,” Shep answered warily.
“Well, think about how Manuel must feel.”
To Shep’s surprise, when he held Manuel in the crook of his arm and closed the back door of the truck, the little boy reached toward Raina.
“Do you think she can do a better job of making you feel better?” Shep asked, half serious, half joking.
Manuel stared at his dad for a few seconds, then reached for Raina again.
Shep shrugged. “Go ahead.”
“This has nothing to do with your ability to take care of him,” Raina assured him as she cuddled Manuel close and let the baby lay his head against her hair.
“There’s a basic difference between men and women,” Shep decided. “That’s what this is all about.”
“And that difference is?” Raina asked, not sure she wanted to know.
“Women are softer. Men are harder. It’s a matter of comfort.”
Raina couldn’t help but hide a smile as she followed Shep up the porch steps to the front door and into the house.
A ceiling fan hummed in the large living room and tempered the noise coming from beyond. Raina caught a glimpse of a colorful sofa, its covering stamped with rodeo cowboys and horses. Black wrought-iron lamps and comfortable-looking side chairs complemented the casual decor. Sand art on the wall appeared to be hand-crafted, as did the mandala over the sofa and the blue pottery painted with gray wolves high on the bookcase. The big flat-screen TV was a focal point in the room.
Manuel tucked his face into her neck and she snuggled him closer. She liked the feel of a baby in her arms. Once she’d hoped a child would be a possibility. But so many possibilities had died on September eleventh, along with her husband.
At first, she’d thought about him twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Memories still popped up now and then without her summoning them. But time was taking its toll, and life went on, whether she grieved and remembered or not. Life had swept her along with it, and she’d stopped resisting its force, though a deep ache was always there.
As they neared the kitchen, loud boys’ chatter turned into more of a shouting match. Six-year-old Roy and eight-year-old Joey were coloring at a large rectangular pedestal table. But Joey was now drawing on Roy’s picture, and in retaliation Roy was drawing on Joey’s.
They were pointing fingers and making accusations while a woman in her fifties, with white-blond spiked hair and long dangling earrings stirred a pot on the stove and firmly called their names. “Roy. Joey. Stop squabbling. You don’t want your dad to come in and hear you.”
“Dad’s too busy to hear us,” Joey said defiantly, his dark brown eyes snapping in his mocha-skinned face.
Roy nudged his brother’s shoulder. “Dad don’t want us to fight.”
