Rescued By The Farmer. Mia Ross
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He wanted the strong, loving marriage his parents had enjoyed until his father’s death a few years ago, and he kept trying to find the woman to build it with. His older brother’s wedding the year before had gotten him thinking about the future even more lately, but as he crept toward his thirtieth birthday, he’d started to wonder if he was destined to spend the rest of his days as everyone’s favorite uncle.
He didn’t really want to be stuck in his tiny hometown for the rest of forever, but his family’s struggling farm needed every pair of available hands to keep it out of bankruptcy. Gallimore was more than the Kinleys’ business—it was their home. Leaving to pursue his own dreams sounded good in theory, but the reality of it was he’d never be able to live with himself if his family lost the farm, and he hadn’t done everything in his power to stop it.
His brooding was cut short when they reached the sign marking the Oaks Crossing Rescue Center. Turning into the lot, he parked next to a dusty two-door that was the only other car there.
Going carefully to avoid scaring either of his passengers, he got out and went around to open Bekah’s door for her. She looked up at him with fearful eyes, and he smiled to reassure her. “Sierra’s here, and she’s the best. Your little friend will be in good hands, I promise.”
A flicker of something akin to hope passed over her features. “I guess I have to trust you, don’t I?”
She made it sound like a real stretch for her, which made him wonder what had happened to turn this intelligent young woman into a scared rabbit. Since he didn’t have a clue how to answer her question, he walked ahead and opened the entryway door for her.
“Good morning,” Sierra Walker greeted them in her characteristically chipper tone. “I’m set up for our new guest in back, so come on through.”
As they walked, he introduced the two women, who traded quick nods before getting down to business. Bekah rested her bundle on an exam table, and Sierra carefully opened the soft cocoon. Seeming to anticipate a struggle, she held the bird still, talking in a singsong voice he’d heard her use with dozens of other animals.
“Hello there, beautiful,” she crooned, running expert hands over the hawk. “You’ve had a tough morning, haven’t you?”
“I’m so sorry,” Bekah apologized, anguish clouding her eyes. “I never saw her until I hit her.”
“I’d imagine Drew explained it was probably the other way around.”
“Well, yes, but I thought he was just trying to make me feel better about hurting her.”
“Actually, that’s the way it usually happens, so you’ve got nothing to feel guilty about. They get this laser focus when they’re hunting, and they don’t notice anything else except their prey. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?” she added to the hawk.
“So she really is a girl?” Drew asked. When she nodded, he chuckled at Bekah. “Guess you were right about that.”
“And you were wrong,” she retorted with more than a little venom in her tone. That set off more alarm bells in his head, warning him to steer clear of this obviously troubled young woman. He preferred sweet, uncomplicated girls whose biggest problem was choosing what outfit they were going to wear on Saturday night. Bekah, on the other hand, had already proven to have more twists than a steep mountain road. Between long days at the farm and pitching in at the center most weekends, he had plenty to deal with already, he cautioned himself. The last thing he needed was a challenge.
Still, there was something about her that reached out to him in a way he’d never experienced before. Maybe it was that she needed him, or that he’d gained enough of her trust that she’d finally gotten the nerve to share her last name with him.
Or maybe it was something else altogether. That possibility bothered him more than he cared to think about right now.
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he replied smoothly, adding a grin to show there were no hard feelings on his part. She gave him an odd look, but he stubbornly kept the smile in place. He’d never let a woman get the better of him before, and he wasn’t about to start now. After all, he had a well-earned reputation to protect.
“Okay, here’s the deal,” Sierra interrupted in a crisp way that said she meant business. “It looks like our girl has some broken bones in her left wing, so we’ll wrap it to keep it stable while they heal. She also has what appears to be a decent concussion.”
“Is that why her one eye isn’t open very far?” Bekah asked.
“Yes, but it responds to light, so that’s a good sign. Judging by her size, I’d say she’s a couple of years old, strong and healthy up till now. That means that if she gets the right care, her chances of recovering and being released back into her natural environment are excellent.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful! I can’t tell you how grateful I am to hear that.” For the first time, Bekah smiled, her eyes lighting with pure joy. Pretty as she was, the fragile-looking runaway was absolutely beautiful when she smiled.
“It’s what we do,” Sierra told her. “Our certified wildlife rehabilitator is on her way over, and she’ll know exactly what needs to be done. I set up a cage in back for the hawk, so if you bring her in, we’ll get her settled and rustle up some breakfast.”
“Does that sound good to you?” Bekah asked the hawk as she scooped her up from the table with more confidence than she’d shown earlier. “You probably can’t wait to get out of this bag.”
Once they had her safely tucked into an oversize birdcage, their patient hobbled around the papered floor, checking out her new digs. Apparently satisfied, she settled down and let out what struck him as a very human-like sigh of relief.
“She needs a name,” Bekah commented in a thoughtful tone. Then, blushing as if just realizing she’d spoken out loud, she turned to Sierra with a questioning look. “Is it all right to do that?”
Normally, they only named animals who were staying at the center because they couldn’t find a home or go back into the wild. Drew caught Sierra’s eye and gave her a subtle nod. Bekah had clearly been having a rough time, and it seemed to him that naming the hawk might give her spirits a much-needed boost.
“Sure,” Sierra replied. “What did you have in mind?”
Bekah studied the resting bird intently for a few moments, then smiled. “With all those pretty burgundy-and-white feathers, I think she looks like a Rosie.”
“Rosie it is.” Grabbing an index card and permanent marker, Sierra wrote down the name, date and her estimate of the age. When she was finished, she asked, “Would you like to help me get her breakfast together?”
“That depends,” Bekah hedged. “What are you planning to feed her?”
“Raw chicken and water for now. When she’s feeling stronger, we’ll move on to live meals, but that’ll be a while.”
“Chicken and water I can handle.”
With that decided, she held Drew’s sweatshirt out for him. When he saw the condition it was