the right veterinary practice to buy had occupied his thoughts for months. Finding one within a reasonable distance to horse breeding farms and also the active horse show circuits in Wisconsin and Minnesota had been high on his list.
The Aspen Creek Vet Clinic and associated property had ticked every box. It had once been a mixed practice, so it included a good clinic building with a corral and small stable out back, which made it perfect for conversion into an equine practice. And a few miles out in the country, Dr. Boyd’s house sat on twenty fenced acres with another stable. The house and all of the buildings needed updating, but at least he hadn’t needed to hunt for a place to live.
The fact that this little Wisconsin town was far from Montana made it even better.
But all of those thoughts about the property and his future here had instantly fled the moment he’d come face-to-face with Darcy Leighton this morning. Warning bells had clanged in his head. His jaw had almost dropped to the floor. He’d had to force himself to stand his ground.
Curvy, with brown hair and sparkling hazel eyes, she could easily have been the much prettier sister of his former fiancée back in Montana, though for just a moment he’d imagined he was staring into Cathy’s deceitful eyes and his stomach had plummeted.
His business plan aside, seeing Darcy on a day-to-day basis would be an intolerable reminder of the past. A time when a pretty face and calculated charm had blinded him to clues so obvious that in retrospect he could not believe his stupidity. Two months. He could manage two months. Maybe.
Why hadn’t he just said no, offered Darcy a nice severance bonus and sent her on her way? And what on earth was that rush of sensation when he’d accepted her handshake? He’d felt his arm tingle and his blood warm, and when his eyes locked on hers he couldn’t look away.
It was only when she’d smiled a little and stepped back that he realized he’d held her hand a little too long.
He certainly hadn’t felt this instant connection with Cathy...which made those warning bells clang all over again. He could not afford a second mistake.
He ordered a cheeseburger and Coke when the waitress—Marge, given the name embroidered on her uniform—stopped by his booth. Then he pensively stared out the large plate glass window overlooking Aspen Creek’s Main Street.
For a chilly Monday morning in mid-April, there was a surprising amount of activity in town. Most of the parking spaces were filled. Pedestrians were window-shopping as they passed the various boutiques and upscale shops probably meant to lure tourists from Minneapolis-St. Paul and Chicago.
Farther down the street, he’d spied some high-end outfitters displaying kayaks, canoes and pricey backpacks in their windows. A quaint two-story bookstore. Cozy-looking tea shops. Bed-and-breakfast signs in front of grand old Victorians.
The town hardly looked like it could be in horse country, but his research had proved otherwise, and so he had started making his plans. Remodeling. Equipment purchases. Supplies. Promotion, to let horse owners know about him.
Under Dr. Boyd’s ownership the clinic had been focused on small animals, so he’d figured he would let the current staff go and then hire people with the equine expertise he needed. People he would carefully interview, and then he’d follow up with background checks on. Thorough background checks.
He felt a shudder work down his spine, wishing with every beat of his heart that there’d been more careful scrutiny of staff at the multi-vet clinic where he’d worked back in Montana. But that was over, done with, and now he had a chance to start his own clinic and do things right.
The waitress returned, gave him a narrow look and set his Coke down with a thud. A few drops splattered onto the table, but she wheeled around for the kitchen without a second look.
Curious, he watched her go and realized that every eye in the place was fixed on him. None of them looked friendly. Feeling as if he’d slipped into some sort of time warp, he eyed the Coke but didn’t try it.
A stooped, gray-haired man in a bright plaid shirt, khakis and purple tennis shoes appeared next to his booth. “I figure you must be the new vet,” he muttered. He leaned closer to peer at the veterinary emblem on Logan’s vest. “Yep. Figured so. Lucky man, buying Doc Boyd’s place. He was the best. Best gals working for him, too. Couldn’t find any better. You can count your blessings, sonny.”
He stalked away, muttering under his breath.
Three elderly women seated at a round table a dozen feet away craned their necks to watch the old guy leave. As one, their heads swiveled toward Logan. If glares could kill, he’d have been turning cold on the floor. Still, he nodded and smiled back at them. “Ladies.”
The oldest one harrumphed and turned away. The one with short silver hair fixed him with her beady eyes. “Paul is right. Everyone loved Dr. Boyd, you know. He wouldn’t ever have treated his staff badly.”
“People care about each other in a small town.” The third woman lifted her chin with a haughty sniff.
He politely tipped his head in acknowledgment, then startled a bit when a thirtysomething woman slipped into his booth and propped her folded hands on the table.
Judging from the blinding sparkles on her wedding ring, she surely hadn’t stopped by to flirt, and given the decidedly unfriendly mood in the café, he hoped she didn’t plan to whack him with her heavy leather purse.
“Beth Stone. I own the bookstore in town,” she said briskly. “It looked like you might need a bodyguard, so I figured I’d stop by for a minute. Thought I might need to warn you.”
He glanced at the other customers in the café, who were all pushing eighty if they were a day. “I think I can handle them. At least, so far.”
Her long chestnut hair swung against her cheek as she slowly shook her head. “Your business affairs are your own, of course. I don’t mean to pry, and whatever you decide to do is totally up to you. But as you can see, word spreads fast in a small town. Gossip is a bad thing, but people really do care about each other here, just as Mabel told you. No one wants to see a friend hurt.”
Clearly eavesdropping from her seat at the round table, Mabel gave him a smug smile.
“I just wanted to offer a little friendly advice,” Beth continued. “If you can, take things a bit slow. Settle in. Get to know people. And if you’re going to fire everyone at the vet clinic right off the bat—”
“I haven’t,” Logan said quietly. Yet.
“But that’s the word on the street, as they say. Not because your employees are blasting the news all over town,” Beth added quickly. “There might have been...uh...a client who overheard something while in the waiting room...who happened to stop here at the café, where no secret is ever kept. Ever.”
The waitress scuttled up to the booth and delivered his hamburger, then fled back to the kitchen. “Sounds like my hometown in Montana,” Logan said.
“Businesses have failed here over far less, and you don’t want to drive every last client to some other vet practice in the next town. Just be prepared.”
“Thanks.”
“People care about each other here. And they are as friendly as can be.”
He
