She smiled. Even if Boone gave her hell, it would be worth it. She was fond of the old dog, too, even if Boone felt she was using his pet. It made her furious that Boone believed that heartless brunette. Keely wasn’t stupid enough to think that such a play would work on a man with a head like a steel block. Boone wouldn’t care if she was Helen of Troy, he’d walk right by her without looking. She knew better than to try to chase him. She was amazed that he didn’t realize that.
“Done,” Bentley announced finally when the last suture was in place. Keely took away the anesthetic and waited while the vet examined the old dog. “I think he’ll do, but don’t quote me. We’ll know in the morning.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’ll carry him in for you,” he volunteered, because the dog was very heavy and Keely had problems carrying weight.
“You don’t have to,” she began self-consciously.
His pale blue eyes were kind as they met hers. “You’ve had some sort of injury to your left shoulder. I don’t have to see it to know it’s there. It won’t let you bear weight.”
She grimaced. “I didn’t realize it was so obvious.”
“I won’t give you away,” he said with a smile. “But I won’t make you carry loads too heavy, either.”
“Thanks, boss,” she said, smiling back.
He shrugged. “You’re the hardest worker I’ve got.” He seemed self-conscious after he said that, and he made a big production of lifting Bailey, very carefully, to one of the recovery cages where he’d be kept and monitored until he came out from under the anesthetic.
“I can stay and watch him,” she began.
He shook his head. “I had a call on my cell phone while we were prepping Bailey,” he reminded her. “There’s a heifer calving over at Cy Parks’s place. She’s having a hard time. It’s one of his purebred herd and he wants me there to make sure the calf is born alive.”
“So you have to go out there.”
He nodded. “I’ll check on Bailey when I get back. It’s Friday night,” he added with a faint smile. “Usually we get emergency cases all night, you know.”
“Want me to stay and answer the phone?” she asked.
He studied her quizzically. “It’s Friday night,” he repeated. “Why don’t you have a date?”
She shrugged. “Men hate me. If you don’t believe that, just ask Boone Sinclair.”
He looked over her shoulder and his eyebrows lifted as a door opened. “Speak of the devil,” he said in a voice that didn’t carry over Winnie’s greeting to her brother.
Chapter Two
Boone stalked into the room where Keely and Bentley were standing together beside the recovery cage, which contained Bailey. He didn’t look very belligerent now, and his concern for the old dog was evident as he knelt beside the cage and touched the head of the sleeping animal gently with his fingertips.
“Will he live?” he asked without looking up.
“We’ll know that in the morning,” Bentley said curtly. “He came through the surgery very well, and I didn’t find anything that would complicate his recovery. For an animal his age, he’s in excellent shape.”
Boone stood up, facing the vet. “Thank you.”
“Thank Keely,” came the short reply. “She ignored your suggestion to leave the animal alone until morning. At which time,” the vet added with a glitter in his eyes, “you’d have found him dead.”
Boone’s own eyes flashed. “I thought he was trying to get attention. Like Keely,” he added with icy sarcasm.
Bentley’s eyebrows lifted. “Do you really think Keely needs to beg any man for attention?” he asked, as if the remark was incredible to him.
Boone stiffened. “Her social life is not my concern. I’m grateful to you for saving Bailey.”
“We’ll know how successful I was in the morning,” Bentley replied. “Keely, can you get my medical bag for me, please?”
“Yes, sir.” She left the room, glad for something that would take her out of Boone’s immediate presence.
Boone glanced again at the cage. “He and I have been through some hard times together,” he told the vet. “If I’d realized how dangerous his condition was, I’d never have left him.” He looked at Bentley. “I didn’t know that dogs got bloat.”
“Now you do,” the vet replied. “Most large dogs are at risk for it.”
“What causes it?”
Bentley shook his head. “We don’t know. There are half a dozen theories, but no definite answers.”
“What did you do?”
“I excised the dead tissue and tacked his stomach to his backbone,” Bentley replied quietly. “I’ll prescribe a special diet for him. For the next couple of days, of course, he’ll get fluids.”
“You’ll let me know?” Boone added slowly.
Bentley recognized the worry in those dark eyes. “Of course.”
Boone turned to Winnie. His eyes were accusing.
She grimaced. “Now, listen, Keely knows what she’s doing, whatever you think,” she began defensively. “I agreed with her and I’ll take full responsibility for bringing Bailey over here.”
“I’m not complaining,” he said. His stern expression lightened. He bent and brushed an affectionate kiss onto Winnie’s forehead. “Thanks.”
She smiled, relieved that he wasn’t angry. “I love old Bailey, too.”
Keely came back with the medical bag and handed it to Bentley. She was holding his old raincoat, as well.
“I hate raincoats,” he began angrily.
She just held it up. He grimaced, but he slid his long arms into it and pulled it up. “Worrywart,” he muttered.
“You got pneumonia the last time you went out into a cold rain,” she reminded him.
He turned and smiled down at her; actually, it was more of a faint turning up of one side of his mouth. Bentley Rydel never smiled. “Go home,” he said.
She shook her head. “I won’t leave Bailey until I’m sure he’s out from under the anesthesia,” she said, and she didn’t look at Boone. “Besides, you’re sure to have at least one emergency call waiting for you when you get back.”
“I don’t pay you enough for all this overtime,” he pointed out.
She shrugged. “So I’ll never
