Holiday In Stone Creek. Linda Lael Miller
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few moments for it to subside. “This horse,” she said when she’d regained her dignity, indicating the pony with a gesture of one hand, “is depressed.”
One dark eyebrow quirked upward, and the hint of a smile played at the corner of Tanner Quinn’s supple-looking mouth. That had to be who he was, since he’d said “I have horses,” not “we” or “they.” Anyhow, he didn’t look like an ordinary ranch hand.
“Does she need to take happy pills?” he asked.
“She wants Sophie,” the palomino said, though of course Mr. Quinn didn’t hear.
“Who’s Sophie?” Olivia repeated calmly.
Quinn hesitated for a long moment. “My daughter,” he finally said. “How do you happen to know her name?”
Olivia thought fast. “My brother must have mentioned her,” she answered, heading for the stall door and hoping he’d step back so she could pass.
He didn’t. Instead, he stood there like a support beam, his forearms resting on top of the door. “O’Ballivan,” he mused. “You’re Brad’s sister? The one who’ll be running the shelter when it’s finished?”
“I think I just said Brad is my brother,” Olivia replied, somewhat tartly. She felt strangely shaken and a little cornered, which was odd, because she wasn’t claustrophobic and despite her unremarkable height of five feet three inches, she knew how to defend herself. “Now, would you mind letting me out of this stall?”
Quinn stepped back, even executed a sweeping bow.
“You’re not leaving, are you?” the palomino fretted. “Butterpie needs help.”
“Give me a second here,” Olivia told the concerned horse. “I’ll make sure Butterpie is taken care of, but it’s going to take time.” An awkward moment passed before she realized she’d spoken out loud, instead of using mental email.
Quinn blocked her way again, planting himself in the middle of the barn aisle, and refolded his arms. “Now,” he said ominously, “I know I’ve never mentioned that pony’s name to anybody in Stone Creek, including Brad.”
Olivia swallowed, tried for a smile but slid right down the side of it without catching hold. “Lucky guess,” she said, and started around him.
He caught hold of her arm to stop her, but let go immediately.
Olivia stared up at him. The palomino was right; she couldn’t leave, no matter how foolish she might seem to Tanner Quinn. Butterpie was in trouble.
“Who are you?” Tanner insisted gruffly.
“I told you. I’m Olivia O’Ballivan.”
Tanner took off his hat with one hand, shoved the other through his thick, somewhat shaggy hair. The light was better in the aisle, since there were big cracks in the roof to let in the silvery sunshine, and she saw that he needed a shave.
He gave a heavy sigh. “Could we start over, here?” he asked. “If you’re who you say you are, then we’re going to be working together on the shelter project. That’ll be a whole lot easier if we get along.”
“Butterpie misses your daughter,” Olivia said. “Severely. Where is she?”
Tanner sighed again. “Boarding school,” he answered, as though the words had been pried out of him. The denim-colored eyes were still fixed on her face.
“Oh,” Olivia answered, feeling sorry for the pony and Sophie. “She’ll be home for Thanksgiving, though, right? Your daughter, I mean?”
Tanner’s jawline looked rigid, and his eyes didn’t soften. “No,” he said.
“No?” Olivia’s spirits, already on the dip, deflated completely.
He stepped aside. Before, he’d blocked her way. Now he obviously wanted her gone, ASAP.
It was Olivia’s turn with the folded arms and stubborn stance. “Then I have to explain that to the horse,” she said.
Tanner blinked. “What?”
She turned, went back to Butterpie’s stall, opened the door and stepped inside. “Sophie’s away at boarding school,” she told the animal silently. “And she can’t make it home for Thanksgiving. You’ve got to cheer up, though. I’m sure she’ll be here for Christmas.”
“What are you doing?” Tanner asked, sounding testy again.
“Telling Butterpie that Sophie will be home at Christmas and she’s got to cheer up in the meantime.” He’d asked the question; let him deal with the answer.
“Are you crazy?”
“Probably,” Olivia said. Then, speaking aloud this time, she told Butterpie, “I have to go now. I have a lost reindeer in the back of my Suburban, and I need to do some X-rays and then get him settled in over at my brother’s place until I can find his owner. But I’ll be back to visit soon, I promise.”
She could almost hear Tanner grinding his back teeth.
“You should stand up,” Olivia told the pony. “You’ll feel better on your feet.”
The animal gave a snorty sigh and slowly stood.
Tanner let out a sharp breath.
Olivia patted Butterpie’s neck. “Excellent,” she said. “That’s the spirit.”
“You have a reindeer in the back of your Suburban?” Tanner queried, keeping pace with Olivia as she left the barn.
“See for yourself,” she replied, waving one hand toward the rig.
Tanner approached the vehicle, and Ginger barked a cheerful greeting as he passed the passenger-side window. He responded with a distracted wave, and Olivia decided there might be a few soft spots in his steely psyche after all.
Rubbing off dirt with one gloved hand, Tanner peered through the back windows.
“I’ll be damned,” he said. “It is a reindeer.”
“Sure enough,” Olivia said. Ginger was all over the inside of the rig, barking her brains out. She liked good-looking men, the silly dog. Actually, she liked any man. “Ginger! Sit!”
Ginger sat, but she looked like the poster dog for a homeless-pets campaign.
“Where did you get a reindeer?” Tanner asked, drawing back from the window to take a whole new look at Olivia.
Ridiculously, she wished she’d worn something remotely feminine that day, instead of her usual jeans, flannel work shirt and mud-speckled down-filled vest. Not that she actually owned anything remotely feminine.
“I found him,” she said, opening the driver’s door. “Last night, at the bottom of my driveway.”
For the first time in their acquaintance, Tanner smiled, and the effect was seismic. His teeth were white and straight, and she’d have bet that was natural enamel, not a fancy set of veneers. “Okay,” he said, stretching the word out a way. “Tell me, Dr. O’Ballivan—how does a reindeer happen to turn up in Arizona?”
“When I find out,” Olivia said, climbing behind the wheel, “I’ll let you know.”
Before she could shut the door, he stood in the gap. Pushed his hat to the back of his head and treated her to another wicked grin. “I guess there’s a ground-breaking ceremony scheduled for tomorrow morning at ten,” he said. “I’ll see you there.”
Olivia nodded, feeling unaccountably flustered.
Ginger was practically drooling.
“Nice dog,” Tanner said.
“Be still, my heart,” Ginger said.
“Shut up,” Olivia told