Can't Stop Loving You (15 page)

“Make him all better.”

“I will.” Brawley ruffled one head, then another. He knelt again to put himself on their level and hooked a finger under Trouble's collar. “You go inside with Sophie. By the time you've eaten lunch, Trouble will be fine. But I need to take care of him now. It's kind of like you guys going to the doctor.”

“Is he gonna get a shot?” Jonah asked. “They hurt.”

“I won't hurt him,” Brawley promised.

Josh wrapped his pudgy arms around Brawley's neck and kissed him.

He returned the kiss, then gave him a man-pat on the back. Sophie started toward the house with the boys in tow.

Brawley's gaze met Maggie's, then traveled down the length of her. He whistled. “Not much of those jeans escaped, did they?”

Her mouth dropped open and, despite herself, she tugged at the fabric.

He grinned. “I like the shorts. You make them look real good.”

“Now? Your head's going there now?”

He shrugged. “Works for me. You're hot as sin today, Red.” He raised the back of his hand and swiped at his forehead. “You turn even a cool spring day into a real scorcher.”

He scooped Trouble in his arms and headed to the barn.

Maggie watched him go. Did the cowboy ever think of anything else? she wondered. She looked at the kids racing each other to the house, then back at Brawley with an armful of dog. Yeah, he did.

Sophie must have been reading her mind because as Maggie reached her, she leaned toward her and whispered, “He's always here when we need him.”

Yes, he was, Maggie thought. He'd been there with Ty when Nathan had attacked Sophie and now when the rattler threatened the boys' and Trouble's lives.

If only he'd been there for her…and their baby.

As she'd watched him with the boys, she realized what a great dad he'd have made. What a great dad he might still make—with someone else.

T
he clinic was a madhouse. Brawley rushed from exam room to exam room. He needed caffeine. No wonder Doc Gibson hadn't been able to keep up this pace.

“Phyllis, will you finish up the poodle in Room One? I've cleaned the wound on his leg and bandaged it. His shots are updated, too. I need to see him in seven days. If you could set that up—”

“Got it. Mrs. Williams called. She wants to know if we're boarding dogs. She and her husband are taking a three-day cruise and need someone to watch their dachshund.”

“Nope. Call her back. Give her Dawn Marie's number. She'll take good care of Hannibal. After a couple days with her, he probably won't want to go home.” Brawley rubbed the back of his neck. “You think there's a chance of talking Bobby Sue into making a fresh pot of coffee?”

“You can try. Miracles happen every day.”

He rolled his eyes.

“Little Davey Iverson and his mom are in Room Three,” Phyllis said. “He found a bird with a broken wing and wants to know if you can fix it.”

“That Nate and Missy's son?”

“Yep. He's in first grade this year. Guess he's playing hooky today to take care of the bird.”

Halfway out the door, Brawley stopped. “You're kidding. They've got a kid who's that old already?”

“Time's moving on, Doctor. You might want to think of having some little ones of your own. I saw you and Maggie dancing Saturday at Fletch and Dottie's reception. It reminded me of the two of you during high school.”

“Don't hold your breath.” He opened the door and stepped out. “Maggie's—”

And there she stood at the reception counter. The smile she sent him was more than a little shaky, actually touched on shy. He hadn't figured she had a timid bone in her body. The cobbler she held smelled heavenly, even over the smell of animal and disinfectant.

“For me?”

“Yes.” She took a deep breath. “I wanted to thank you and thought a fresh peach cobbler might do the trick.”

“Don't suppose you brought coffee?”

She shook her head.

He strode across to her and took the offered dessert. “I won't say no to this, but…I'm not quite sure what you're thanking me for. If it's for Saturday night, let me just say the pleasure was almost mine.”

Intrigued, he watched the color bloom on her cheeks. Maggie Sullivan was an interesting mix of wanton sex appeal and unabashed innocence.

Her brow shot up. “If you're not careful, you might be wearing that.” She nodded at the dish. “You saved Trouble's life yesterday. Those boys dote on that rascal of a pup. If he hadn't got between Jesse and that rattler, or if he'd—” She blew out a breath, unable to finish the sentence.

Tears filled her enormous green eyes.

“Hey.” He set the cobbler on the counter. “Nothing happened. Jesse didn't get snake bit, and the mutt's good as new today.”

“Because you were there.”

He shrugged. “I drove out to Burnt Fork to check on him before I opened today.”

“Early morning for you.”

“Got that right.” He ran a hand over his already stubble-roughened chin. “Trouble apparently felt good enough sometime during the night to eat one of Sophie's new shoes. She might not be feeling as benevolent toward him this morning as you do. The only casualty was the snake—who was probably minding his own business till three rowdy boys and their overgrown pup intruded on his territory.”

Maggie grinned. “Thank you all the same.”

He lowered his voice. “I thought you hated me.”

“I never said that. I hate what you did, not you. And don't you dare read anything into that.”

He threw back his head and laughed. “Maggie Sullivan, you're impossible.”

“Good-bye, Doctor Odell. I'm leaving now.”

“Thanks for the dessert, Maggie.”

“You're welcome,” she threw over her shoulder.

“Mags, wait.” He reached out, took hold of her arm. “Are you in a hurry?”

“Not particularly. Ella's covering the store today.”

“Great.” He held up a finger, then stuck his head in the first exam room. “Phyllis, no one's waiting right now. Can you hold the fort while I take ten? I'll handle Davey and his bird before I go.”

“You bet.” She eyed the cobbler he held again. “Don't suppose this break has anything to do with the redhead who brought that in.”

He tossed her a careless smile and closed the door. Then he turned back to Maggie. “Do you mind waiting a few minutes? Davey Iverson found an injured bird this morning.”

“Go. Heal. I'll be right here.”

“Thanks.”

He watched her walk to the waiting area, those incredible hips swaying and driving him insane. He sure wished she was wearing yesterday's short denims. There couldn't have been a half a yard of material in them. They showcased those legs of hers and made a man hungry. Made him want to slide a finger up the length of all that creamy, silky skin.

The longing was even more intense now, after their close encounter. He'd thought if he could have another taste, he'd be satiated. Instead it had been like a drop of water on the tongue of a man dying of dehydration. A single taste of what he couldn't have.

Davey's bird turned out to be a male painted bunting. “Wow, he's a real beauty, pal.”

“He looks like somebody colored him.”

“Yeah, you got that right.”

“He's hurt.” Davey got close to the cage and pointed.

“Yes, he is. We can fix him, though. Sure glad you brought him to me. You did a good job.”

The boy grinned and puffed out his chest.

It didn't take long. Brawley splinted the wing and talked to Davey and his mom about the care the bird would need till it could fly again.

Brawley shook Davey's hand. “He'll be good as new in no time. Nice job, buckaroo.”

“Thanks.” Davey lowered his eyes and studied the floor. “Mom says I can't keep him.”

“Your mom's right. He's a wild creature and needs to be free.”

“Okay.”

“I thought maybe next time we went to Austin we could stop at a pet store,” Missy said. “Give a canary or a finch a home.”

“Really?” A grin split the little boy's freckled face.

“Really.”

“Oh, boy.” He skipped around the room.

“Okay, settle down.” His mom handed him the cage. “Here you go. You can carry this out to the car while I pay our bill.”

Brawley shook his head. “No bill. No charge. This one's on the house.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

Davey walked out, proud as a peacock, with his wounded bird.

“Thanks again, Brawley. We're all glad you've come home.”

Brawley smiled at her and watched her walk away. Not everyone was all that happy he'd returned. He leaned against the doorjamb and watched Maggie.

She stopped Davey and oohed and ahhed over the bird, listening to his plans for one of his own. Her enthusiasm was genuine. She was good with kids.

He wondered if she'd ever have any.

Right now, though, the two of them had a date—of sorts. He didn't have time to take her anywhere. Sally's would be too slow. Besides, it wouldn't be private enough. Not that they'd particularly need privacy. Still…

He considered his options. His office was out. It reeked of emotion after Saturday evening. Maybe they could take a short walk. Right now was when he missed the myriad of coffee shops he'd grown used to in Dallas.

Ducking into his office, he grabbed two sodas from his mini-fridge. Cold caffeine. A quick glance showed no patients in the waiting area. Thank God. After that flurry this morning, they could use a breather.

Maggie studied the photos he'd hung along one wall.

“Are these yours?” she asked.

He nodded.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“You've captured such emotion.” She stopped in front of one with a young boy kissing a large Dalmatian, then at another of a very elderly lady, her wrinkled face not totally unlike that of the pug she cradled.

“I try.”

“You succeed. Did you get some this good at Pops's wedding?”

Oh, if she only knew. He thought guiltily of the ones he'd taken of her. In one, she'd been pouting and looked especially sexy. Not sure what had made him do it, he'd printed that shot and then framed the damned thing. If she wandered into his bedroom—his breath caught just thinking about that—she'd pitch one hell of a fit.

“I got some really nice ones, yeah.” He held out a hand to her. “It's a gorgeous day and not too hot yet. How about a short stroll?” Looking down at her feet, he saw strappy little sandals. Dark green toenails peeked up at him.

“Those okay for walking?”

“Absolutely.” She bit her lip. “We're not going to, um, rehash our, ah, last conversation, are we?”

“Why, Maggie, you sound nervous.”

She frowned. “I'm not nervous.”

“Of course not. You're not afraid of anything, are you?”

“You might be surprised.”

“No. We don't have to talk about Saturday.” He handed her a soda.

“Ahhh.” She popped the top as she stepped into the sunshine. “Exactly what I needed.”

Neither spoke for a couple minutes.

“You leave Wednesday?”

“Yep. Which means I have today and tomorrow to wrap things up. I'm not taking much with me. Two suitcases. That's it. If it doesn't fit in one of them, it doesn't go.”

“What are you doing with the rest of your things?”

“I'd intended to leave some of my stuff in my bedroom at Pops's and stash a few boxes in the attic. But considering the recent changes, I've rethought that plan. I'll pack most of it and cart it to my parents'.”

“You think your grandfather will sell his place?”

“Eventually. Dottie's going to want to stay in her home. Women get more attached to a place. It would be a good move for Pops, really. I'll worry a lot less with him here in Maverick Junction than alone at his place, miles from town. And he'll be closer to my parents.”

“You think you'll like New York?” Brawley glanced at her, watched as she tipped the can back for a drink. When she flicked a drop from her lips, he bit back a groan.

“I know I will.” Her eyes sparkled. “Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine this actually happening. I've been to New York twice now. Mom went with me last time. The city is energy and excitement. It's twenty-four-seven. It's—” She spread her hands.

“All the things Maverick Junction isn't.”

Her smile faded. “I love Maverick Junction and Texas. I love the people here. This has been my whole life. But I need more, Brawley. So did you.”

He nodded and stuffed a hand in his pocket. “Guess so.” Studying her, he said, “We can't seem to get the timing right, can we?”

She didn't say anything.

After a few seconds, he asked, “What did your mom think of the city?”

Maggie sighed. “She loved the shopping, the plays, the restaurants. She didn't like the mass of people, though. Didn't like that she couldn't get in her car and simply go. If you ask her, she'll say everything is more complicated there. No stopping into the grocery store and hauling things to your car. You need bottled water? You'd better be willing to tote it back to your apartment.”

“None of that bothered you?”

“To be honest, I was so busy working, it didn't even register. We stayed in a hotel and took all our meals out. Mom, however, extrapolated the myriad necessities of life and decided she couldn't live in the city.”

“It's different.”

“Yes. You'd know that, wouldn't you?”

He glanced at her and decided the comment wasn't snarky.

“To an extent,” he answered. “Dallas isn't New York, though. Dallas/Fort Worth has less than seven million people. You take the New York, northern New Jersey, Long Island area? Almost nineteen million. Big difference.”

“But you enjoyed Dallas.”

“I did. Always something going on.”

They both stopped, looked down Maverick Junction's one main street. Other than Sadler's Store, which was just down the road, this street comprised the town's entire business district. The post office, a florist, Mel's newspaper office, Sally's Place, and a couple other small stores. That was it.

It was what it was, and Brawley didn't regret his move.

“I can't wait.” Maggie grinned.

“I can see that. Since it doesn't sound like you hit the streets sightseeing, what
did
you do while you were in New York before?”

“The first time, I met with my backer, Owen Cook.” She reached, without thought, for his hand. He took it, linked their fingers.

“I was so nervous, Brawley, I thought I'd pee my pants.”

He quirked a brow. “That might have been a first.”

She giggled. “Don't I know it. The restaurant he took me to…” She rolled her eyes. “Incredible. I tried to talk Ollie into adding a couple of the items to his menu, but he refused. He didn't think they'd go over as well in Lone Tree.”

“He was probably right,” Brawley said. “How about the second trip?”

“Oh, boy, was that ever labor intensive. Poor Mom. I didn't get nearly as much time with her as either of us would have liked. I did all the prep work for my show. I chose fabrics, got the workers started on the patterns and production. My designs for my very first ever show are in place minus whatever last-minute tweaking I decide to do.”

“You're happy with them?”

“I am.” She smiled smugly. “I intend to knock 'em dead with my line. The pieces work. I've run them up in my workroom, fussed with them some more. Bottom line? I love every single garment.” She closed her eyes. “Fingers crossed the buyers will, too.”