But she had offered, and she owed him. She put her arm around him and together they hobbled to the van. “Maybe I should change,” he said, peering at the wet stains on his pants and wrinkling his nose at the accompanying foul odor. “I have clean pants in the duffel.”
Hardy had already headed for the ranch house. Had Clint waited until Hardy had returned to the house before making that decision? Maybe she was just too suspicious. “You can change in the back of the van,” she said. “I have a couple of calls to make.” She hesitated, then asked suspiciously, “Do you need any help?”
“Maybe to get into the van. Not to change,” he said with that oddly attractive upward turn of the left side of his lips. The half smile was crooked and endearing. Vulnerable. And as tempting as forbidden fruit.
She was in trouble. She needed to keep her distance from Clint Morgan. As soon as she helped him into the van, she closed the door without another word. She walked over to the fence, called Doc and told him she would be there in thirty minutes, then she called Josh for the second time.
“We’re a bit more delayed,” she said. “There’s been a little accident and I’m taking Mr. Morgan to Doc Bradley’s.”
A long silence at the other end, then, “What kind of ‘little’ accident?”
“A heifer stepped on his foot.”
Another silence.
“And...” Josh prompted, inviting a fuller explanation that she was loath to give over the phone.
“I’m pretty sure nothing is broken. Just want to be sure. He also...umm...kinda needs a bath.”
“What did you do, Stephanie?”
“You know Hardy Pearson. One of his cows was in trouble. A twisted stomach. Mr. Morgan offered to help. Isobel stepped on him.”
“Who in the hell is IsobeI?”
“The heifer. She’s one of Hardy’s prize breeding stock.”
Still another long silence. It was Josh’s quiet way to indicate he was not happy. “I’ll meet you at Doc Bradley’s,” he said finally and hung up.
Her passenger must have had enough time to change. Then she spotted the new-looking loafers near the fence. She picked them up and headed to the back of the van. She knocked. No way was she going to barge in.
The door opened. Clint Morgan hadn’t changed his soiled shirt, but now wore a new pair of khakis. His feet were covered only by socks, and his thick dark hair was rumpled, as if he’d just combed it with his fingers. His eyes were the color of rich dark coffee, and they appeared far more alive than before the heifer affair. Instead of reflecting pain, they practically danced with mischief.
An unwelcome warmth spread through her. She willed it away. She didn’t trust it. She didn’t trust him. Hell’s bells. She didn’t trust herself.
He stepped down on his good leg, then put an arm around her shoulder for the short hobble to the front of the van. Once again, she felt trapped. He was too close. Along with the lingering cow smell, she got a whiff of a tangy aftershave scent and, oddly enough, it was a sensuous mixture that probably only a vet would appreciate. His arm was warm. The air was also warm and getting warmer, and not just from the sun.
They made it to the passenger side, and he stepped inside, using the door handle for support. She handed his shoes to him and hurried around to the other side of the van. As she settled into the driver’s seat, she was too aware of him, much more so than during the trip to Hardy’s. She was afraid she liked him now. Liked the way he had laughed after Isobel kicked him and his quick quips with Hardy. She was fascinated by his subtle and not so subtle challenges.
Wow, she needed to get herself in hand. “I called the town’s doctor—Doc Bradley—and he’ll be waiting for us. Josh will be there.”
To take Clint Morgan off my hands.
His grin was just too potent. Whenever she saw handsome, smiling men nowadays, she searched for the treachery she was sure lurked within. Think Ted Bundy. Or her former husbands.
Clint Morgan was good-looking with a beguiling smile. Dark, slightly curly hair, dark eyes, strong cheekbones, a cleft in his chin and a slight wry turn to his lips. In short, Clinton Morgan raised every single one of her red flags. But she tried to reserve judgment. All she really knew about him was that he couldn’t drive because of his blackouts, and he was ex-military. Josh had been characteristically uncommunicative. Well, it was none of her business, nor the business of Covenant Falls.
She needed to keep it that way.
* * *
CLINT SAT BACK in the seat, shoved his good foot into a shoe and watched Stephanie drive. She drove with the same concentration she showed when treating the cow. He thought back to that moment she’d smiled. Openly. Not guarded as she had been since they met.
He’d thought her pretty before, but when she smiled, she was stunning. And when her blue eyes had darkened with concern while she examined his foot, he’d felt a tingling interest he hadn’t experienced in a long time.
Down, boy. He knew nothing about her. He had a pile of troubles at the moment. Plus, he wouldn’t be staying long. Just long enough to chart out a future.
But in that moment immediately after the cow had stepped on him and she’d knelt next to him, their eyes had clashed, challenging each other. It had made him feel alive for the first time since the car accident. Call it sexual attraction, awareness, or whatever, something was there, at least for him.
“I don’t need a doctor,” he said. “I’ve seen enough injuries to know this doesn’t even count as a pinprick.”
“Then you didn’t need my shoulder?”
She had him there. His foot hurt like hell, but he probably could have walked on his own. He just hadn’t been able to resist the offer. “It helped,” he said, somewhat lamely.
A small smile started on her lips, then faded. “We are going. So far my track record in seeing you safely to Covenant Falls is near zero.”
Was she being adamant because of this Josh? She’d made it clear she valued the opinion of his benefactor more than his. It was rather a blow to his pride, but then except for that one extraordinary moment on the ground, she’d been stilted since they’d met. It was as if she knew something about him, something she didn’t particularly like. The reason he’d left the army? That he failed his buddies for a dumb stunt?
At least he hadn’t had a blackout during the afternoon. He didn’t know what triggered them. The doctor suggested tension, anxiety, but they occurred at other times, as well. The only warning was a god-awful headache.
“I really am sorry,” she said, breaking into his thoughts. “I shouldn’t have asked you to help. You haven’t much experience with animals, have you?”
He shrugged. “It felt good to be doing something useful, even holding two legs of a reluctant cow.” He stayed silent for a moment, then said, “Tell me about Josh Manning. All I know is he’s a vet, not to be confused with your kind of vet.”
“He’s a good guy.
