The Bull Rider's Redemption. Heidi Hormel
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Rico Pueblo. With that accomplished, her father would make her CFO. It might feel good, too, knowing that she’d fix something Knox had messed up—for the first time in their lives, maybe.
“If you have any other questions, just give me a call,” Knox said. Why was he being so nice? “It’s great having you with the company.”
“Thanks,” Clover said before she hung up. She didn’t really believe Knox wished her well. They had always been in competition, especially for their parents’ attention. He’d agreed to help her now, even though their father had sent him to Hong Kong. She knew there was more to his banishment to the China office than he was letting on.
She shook her head, wondering if siblings ever got past being ten-year-olds with each other.
Outdoing Knox wasn’t childish, though. It would get her the job she’d trained for at the Wharton business school and really start her life as an adult. No more picking out tablecloth colors or deciding whether roses or lilies were better in the centerpieces, as she’d done for Cowgirl’s Blues. She would be reshaping a town and leading VCW into an entirely new business venture. First, though, she needed to find the owners of the next properties on her list, then make offers. That would provide VCW with enough land to begin the process of rezoning.
* * *
CLOVER TURNED ONTO Miner’s Gulch—the name of the street would need to be changed. Picturesque for a ghost town, but not so much for a fun, yet sophisticated village and resort that would be Rico Pueblo. She reached for her phone on the passenger seat to record a reminder about the street name. Where was it? She turned to look and saw that it had slid out of reach. She glanced back to the road. “Oh, no!” she said, seeing a dog cowering in her path. She slammed on her brakes and swerved just as the dog unfroze and ran toward her turning car. The thud of car into dog made Clover wince and cry out.
She couldn’t see the animal. Her heart beat in her ears. She put the vehicle in Park, her hands shaking as she turned off the engine and hurried out of the car. She didn’t want to look. She didn’t want to see the animal’s mangled body. But it might be alive. She walked toward the side that would have hit the dog. No body, but there were drops of blood. She’d definitely hit the dog. She left the car and followed the trail of red dots toward an alley. Should she call someone for help? Her first thought was Danny. No. She’d deal with whatever she found when she reached the end of the blood trail.
A howl lifted the hairs on the back of Danny’s neck. Not a coyote, though they did creep into town. Definitely a dog, and one in distress. Danny stopped for a moment, listening to figure out where it was. His own hound had died just after he’d stopped riding bulls. He hadn’t been able to make himself adopt another.
He moved as a whine echoed off the wooden facades of the buildings. The animal was definitely in pain. He stopped again, squinting down the sidewalk for the dog or someone looking for it. Whimpering drifted to him from his left, down a short alley that led to a parking lot. He hurried as the whimper scaled back up to a howl.
“Doggie,” a female voice said as he rushed down the narrow passage and toward the lot. He scanned the empty area until he noticed a woman standing near a Dumpster. The whimper changed to a growl. Didn’t she know what that meant? That was more than a warning.
“Hey,” he yelled. She whipped around as a dirty dog darted away despite a heavy limp.
“Darn it,” Clover said because, of course, it had to be Clover. “I finally had him cornered.”
“You’re lucky you didn’t get bitten.”
“I have on gloves and I have a coat to cover him,” she said, moving past Danny. “He won’t have gone far. Could you call the police for help?”
“I’ll help.” They walked toward a narrow space between the buildings, too small for a vehicle but large enough for a dog or a person.
Clover pulled a tiny light from her huge purse. She shone it into the darkness. The dog’s eyes glowed, its teeth bared as he growled long and low.
Danny put his hand on Clover’s arm. “Wait. I don’t want either of us to get bitten. Give me the coat. You go around to the other end to keep him from getting away. But don’t go near him.”
“This is all my fault. He came out of nowhere. I couldn’t stop—”
He didn’t want to hear her confession now. “Have you ever had a dog?” She didn’t answer. “I didn’t think so. I grew up around dogs and cattle and every other ornery animal there is. We have to be careful.”
She handed him her coat and jogged around the building. He waited for her to appear at the other end of the narrow passageway. The dog was whimpering again in a way that made Danny want to rush to him. Finally, he saw Clover and the dog did, too. It turned to her, and Danny moved slowly forward with the coat in front of him. By the time the dog looked his way, Danny was close enough to drop the Pendleton-patterned jacket over him. Clover hurried from her end of the lane. In the dimness, she whispered over the dog’s low growls and whimpers, “What do we do now?”
“Wait until he calms down. Then we’re going to use the strap on your purse to lead him out of here.”
“This is an Alexander McQueen,” Clover said.
“Do you want to save this dog?”
She didn’t reply, instead taking the strap off her purse, and two minutes later he lifted the brightly colored coat off the dog enough to reveal a dirty collar—thank God. He hadn’t been sure how else he would have gotten the lead on the animal. He clicked on the “leash” and the dog froze. Then Danny lifted the coat at the same time he pulled up on the lead to keep control of its head. After a few feeble attempts to snap, the fight went out of the creature. Its medium-length matted fur was mostly white with brownish-red patches and ears that drooped. Danny could see the gleam of blood on its flank.
There wasn’t a vet in town and the nearest was an hour away. But he knew who could help. Angel Crossing’s physician’s assistant Pepper Bourne treated humans; she could care for dogs, too. He hoped. “Clover, can you get to your phone?”
“Are you going to call the dog catcher?” she accused.
“I want you to phone Angel Crossing Medical Clinic and speak with Pepper Bourne. I bet she can fix him up.”
“Oh.” Clover sounded both confused and a little sorry. He gently led the limping and whimpering dog from the lane. He only half listened to Clover’s side of the phone conversation.
“Pepper says she can’t work on him at the clinic. Can you take him out to the ranch?”
“Tell her we’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
“Thank you,” Clover said. She stepped forward. He moved his head a fraction of an inch, from habit, from want, and the peck she’d been ready to land on his cheek found its home on his lips. Like biting into the ripest peach, the taste of her exploded in his mouth. He pulled her close with his free arm. She didn’t protest. Her mouth opened under his and the peaches became spicy with need. This was not the kiss of fumbling, horny teens. This had nothing to do with their past at all. This was its own connection. One that Danny hadn’t known before. He deepened the kiss, explored her mouth and her amazing curves. None of it was enough because of this suddenly huge feeling between them.
The dog yanked on its leash and he stepped away. The ache and the need were not what he wanted. He hadn’t kissed her for that. He had kissed her because— “Let’s go,” he said, knowing his voice growled like the dog’s. He didn’t care. He was only helping her now because he couldn’t let this dog suffer.
* * *
“YOU’RE LUCKY I keep a kit here at the house,” Pepper said as she stitched. At least Clover assumed the other woman with a honey-colored ponytail