Falling For The Rancher. Tanya Michaels
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conduct with Lloyd Carson had ever been flirtatious or unprofessional, Sierra could have been more of a team player. She could have made an effort to care about occupational politics.
As Eileen went over the legal details of the termination, Sierra’s mind wandered to the future. Her savings account was skimpier than she’d like, but she was a trained specialist. She’d land on her feet. It was a point of pride that she’d been making her way for years, without asking her parents for money.
You’ll find a new position. And when you do? Stay under the radar instead of racking up a file of grievances. In the interests of her career, Sierra could be detached and diplomatic.
Probably.
“Darling, you’re being needlessly stubborn,” Muriel Bailey chastised through the phone. “Coming home for an extended visit would be a win for everyone. Since you aren’t busy with work—”
“I’m busy looking for a job.” Word had spread through the medical grapevine from Dallas to Houston that Sierra had been fired. Ever since Muriel had learned about it last week, she’d been relentlessly campaigning for Sierra to move back to Houston. There’s a better chance of my being elected president and moving to the White House.
Her mother sighed. “But it’s always difficult to get vacation time approved after starting a new position. What if they won’t give you the days off for your brother’s wedding?” According to Muriel, Kyle’s December nuptials would be The Social Event of the Decade. “I need you here so you can help me with the millions of details! Then you’ll start job-hunting again after the holidays. New year, new career.”
Trapped under her parents’ roof from September until January? Little spots appeared in front of Sierra’s eyes, and she gripped the edge of the granite-topped kitchen island for support. “I’ll be sure to mention that my brother is getting married during interviews and give prospective employers a heads-up.” Assuming she got any more interviews.
By affronting the hospital’s board of directors, she seemed to have damaged her options here in Dallas. Only two people had been willing to meet with her so far—a sleaze who’d ogled her breasts throughout the entire conversation and a sycophant who’d gushed about what an honor it was to meet the daughter of esteemed Chief of Neurosurgery Frederick Bailey. She didn’t want to take a job that was offered because of who her father was, but if nothing better materialized...
“Sierra, are you even listening to me?”
“Um.” Not for the past five minutes or so. “I may have missed that last part.”
“Douglas Royce has been asking about you. He can’t wait to see you at the wedding.”
Oh, for pity’s sake. Her mother couldn’t possibly think there was still a chance Sierra might one day become Mrs. Douglas Royce? Opening the fridge, she searched for a bottle of wine. Damn. The downside of no paycheck was a serious lack of groceries. “We broke up years ago.”
“Yet you haven’t had a serious relationship since! Perhaps because, deep down, you—”
“Paul and I were plenty serious.” Just not transcontinental serious. When Dr. Paul Meadows had left a couple of months ago to do medical work in Africa, they’d shared an affectionate goodbye. It was true she hadn’t dated much between Douglas and Paul, but three years of grad school and twelve months of residency hadn’t left much free time. “You’re conveniently forgetting, I never loved Douglas half as much as you and Dad did. So you’re not going to use him to lure me home.”
“Parents shouldn’t have to ‘lure’ their own flesh and blood. Where’s your sense of familial duty?” Muriel huffed. “Who’s going to help me with this mountain of wedding tasks?”
Sierra supposed it would be sheer lunacy to suggest the bride. Was poor Annabel getting any say in her big day? I warned Kyle they should elope. “Don’t be afraid to delegate to the zillion-dollar-an-hour wedding coordinator, Mom. That’s what Annabel’s family is paying her for. I hate to cut this short, but I have a phone interview this evening.” Could her lie have sounded less convincing?
“Really? With whom?”
“Um...” Sierra rubbed her temple. “Oh, I think that’s my other line. Gotta go, love to Dad, ’bye!” She disconnected before her mother could respond, poured a glass of water and went to the living room, where her laptop sat on the couch. For a moment, she considered checking flights to Africa. Maybe she should follow Paul’s example—go help people in another part of the world and put an ocean between her and her parents.
Instead, she checked email to see if her job search had netted any new responses, then fired off a quick note to Kyle.
Subject: Our Mother Is Off The Rails
Annabel must REALLY love you to put up with Mom. Hope you know what a lucky guy you are. See you in December—and not a single day sooner! S.
Her brother never replied to any of her messages. No doubt he was too busy plotting corporate takeovers.
She started to close her email, but her gaze lingered on a name in her inbox. Daniel Baron. He’d written to her two days ago, but she still hadn’t decided whether to act on the information he’d passed along.
Daniel was a former bull rider and past patient. She’d reached out to him last week when it became clear she needed more references. Not only had Daniel been happy to hear from her and more than willing to endorse her, he’d learned of an unusual job posting through a friend of a friend. He’d told her about a family in Cupid’s Bow, Texas. She’d almost rolled her eyes at the town name, but she supposed it was no quirkier than Gun Barrel City, Texas. Or Ding Dong, Texas.
According to Daniel, the teenage daughter of the family had been in an accident, and the Rosses were looking for someone to live on the ranch and work with the kid for about a month. A ranch...where there were horses. She shuddered.
I am not a small-town person. But she prided herself on being tough when she needed to be, and it wouldn’t be a long-term situation. With a guaranteed roof over her head, she would have time to investigate other opportunities. Three and a half weeks could make the difference between finding a position where she truly fit and simply accepting a paycheck so she could continue indulging in luxuries like food and water.
After she’d first read Daniel’s email, she’d looked up Cupid’s Bow online. It was tiny. Her parents’ country club probably had a higher population—ironic, since the club worked at actively excluding people. Sierra doubted there were any symphony performances or science museums in Cupid’s Bow. But worse than a potential dearth of culture or even the presence of horses was the possibility of nosy neighbors. Weren’t people in close-knit communities subject to scrutiny and gossip? Given her parents’ wealth and high social standing, Sierra had spent her teen years feeling conspicuously visible. People who’d never even met her had opinions about who she was and who they thought she should be. She detested feeling as if she had to answer anyone.
All right then, don’t call the Rosses. Stay here and get a job waitressing. With your gracious nature, you’re sure to make enough tips to pay off those student loans.
Lord. No wonder she couldn’t get a job—she even gave herself attitude.
Decision made, she pulled her phone from her pocket before she could change her mind. As she dialed, she reminded herself there was no guarantee the Rosses would hire her. If they did, she’d survive roughing it in Cupid’s Bow one day at a time. How many times had she lectured patients on the necessity of breaking down tasks into less intimidating chunks?
“Quit looking at it as months of PT,” she’d tell them. “Just get through each set of exercises, one day at a time. This first set’s only ten minutes. It may be uncomfortable, but you can handle ten measly minutes. Don’t wuss out on me now...”
She cajoled, encouraged and