appeared to have no sense of humor. Typical doctor.
“Seriously—”
“Hop in the truck.” He turned away, his spurs chinking like they did in old movies.
Ching, ching, ching.
“Wait,” she said, realizing it was time to give up. “I’ve got to get my cat.”
He faced her suddenly, quickly, like a gun-fighter. “Your what?” he asked. Oh, but now he looked like a doctor, one who’d just been told by a cancer patient that they’d been outside smoking a pack of cigarettes.
“I brought my cat.”
“You brought your cat,” he repeated.
“It’s okay. I talked to your mom. She said it was all right.”
He just stared at her. Alison could hear Mr. Clean howling inside the car.
“Go get your cat.”
“I know, I know,” she muttered. She’d have been better off leaving him at home. Her next-door neighbor probably wouldn’t have forgotten to feed him or left the door open or a window….
“What is that?” he asked when she’d pulled the cat carrier from the car. It was one of those Quonset-hut-shaped things, the kind made from wire mesh so you could see the animal inside.
“This is Mr. Clean,” she pronounced, holding the cage up.
“That is the ugliest damn cat I’ve ever seen.”
She straightened. “He’s not ugly. He’s just…hairless.”
“It looks like something out of E.T.”
“Nope. He’s from this planet. Russia, actually. He’s a Russian Peterbald.” Clean gave another howl. “I’m allergic to cat hair,” she explained. And something about the bald cat appealed to her, something that had to do with the poor thing being laughed at by everyone who saw it at the pet store. She knew what it was like to have people laugh at you.
“Where should I put him?”
“Put him in the back.”
“Of the truck?”
“No. The backseat.”
Oh. Well, okay. Shaking her head, she did as asked, Mr. Clean protesting from the back.
“Tell me I don’t have to listen to that all the way home,” he said as he climbed into the driver’s seat. Ali told herself to relax. Sure, he wasn’t exactly pleased to see her. And sure, he didn’t look exactly thrilled that she was staying at his parents’ dude ranch. But he’d adjust.
“I thought you needed to go someplace,” she said. It would have made things a whole lot easier if he’d put on weight or lost his hair. She didn’t like this awareness she felt while sitting next to him.
“I do—did. I’ll be late.”
He started up his truck, the onslaught of noise from the big diesel making it impossible to think for a second. “You were going to a friend’s house while dragging this big old horse trailer behind you?”
“Do it all the time.” He put his truck in gear. She hadn’t even known big trucks came with stick shift.
“No wonder your horse wanted out so bad.”
He shot her a look. “This from a woman who drags her cat across the country.”
As if agreeing, Mr. Clean let out another howl. “I was afraid to leave him at home. He’s delicate.” Like I once was.
“Does my mom know it’s bald?”
“He’s a hairless, and it didn’t come up in conversation. Why do you ask?”
“Because I worry about it frightening the other guests.”
She opened her mouth to defend her cat’s looks, only to realize that he was—miracles upon miracles—joking. She could tell by the way the side of his mouth twitched up a bit—just once—but she spotted it, and when he looked over at her, the twinkle in his green eyes confirmed the fact.
“You got to admit, that is one ugly cat.”
Ali glanced to the back seat, and though Mr. Clean was all she had in the world, she knew that he was, well, ugly.
“When I first saw him I thought he looked a lot like something from Sesame Street.”
This time he let himself smile openly.
What an improvement. Until that moment she’d managed to put from her mind what he’d looked like with just his Jockey—
“…adopt him?”
He raised a brow in question. He’d asked her something. She searched that fuzzy part of her brain that had heard what he’d said but not really registered it. Something about her cat…
“Everyone was making fun of him,” she said quickly.
He made a slow right-hand turn, his truck picking up speed as he headed toward the Diamond W Ranch. “I’d gone to the pet store to get myself a fish, for my desk at work. But I took him instead.”
His smile faded. She jerked her gaze forward, feeling strange things that made her distinctly uncomfortable, given that she was supposed to be in Los Molinas to recruit him. Granted, she was being underhanded in her recruitment tactics, but she was nothing if not determined.
“Look,” he said, and Ali realized they’d arrived at a sort of truce. “I’m not sure if you’re nuts or what. But I would appreciate it if you didn’t mention my going to work for your hospital while you’re staying at my mom’s.”
“Why not?”
“My dad just died and I don’t want her thinking I’m leaving her to deal with the ranch alone.”
Funny, his mom hadn’t mentioned anything about that—not that it was something you’d admit to a guest.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s not easy to lose a parent.”
“No, it’s not.”
She didn’t know what else to say and so she said nothing for about a mile, but she needed to clarify something.
“Dr. Sheppard—”
“Nick,” he corrected her.
Nick. She liked that so much better than Nicholas. It suited him, too.
“Nick,” she said. “I know you don’t want me around, but I am here on vacation. When I heard your family owned a dude ranch, I thought to myself how much fun that would be. I’ve always loved horses. And so while I don’t blame you for being upset with me, I’m really here for a vacation.” Not precisely, but he didn’t need
