Cowboy M.D.

Nick remained silent, something he’d been from the moment they’d called their truce.

“It’s beautiful,” she added.

“Yup.”

Yup. Obviously the man wasn’t fond of conversation.

There wasn’t a whole lot she could do about his dislike of her. He’d realize she wasn’t the enemy in a few days. And if he didn’t, oh, well. She’d enjoy herself on vacation. Darn it, it’d been too many years since she’d had a good time.

She studied the home at the end of the long, gravel drive, which was horseshoe-shaped with a patch of golf-course-green lawn in the middle of the U.

A mansion.

That was the only way to describe it.

Ali knew from the dude ranch’s Web site that Nick’s great-great-something-or-other had sold everything he’d owned to come out West. Building his wife a mansion had been part of the deal. And so the Diamond W Ranch looked more like it belonged in the South. Four stories tall, the main house had three white columns and a wide, ante-bellum-type porch. Green shutters framed the window like peek-a-boo hands and there was a double door with etched glass sparkling in the afternoon light. Acres and acres of oak trees and some sort of scrub sprouting tiny white flowers surrounded the place.

“Does Colonel Sanders live here?”

When he didn’t crack a smile, she sighed.

What was it about men that she always rubbed them the wrong way? Was she too aggressive? Was that it?

They pulled up in front, Ali oddly at peace as she studied the home.

“My mom’s probably getting dinner ready for the guests,” Nick said. “You might as well go on around to the back where the kitchens are.”

“What if she mistakes me for a servant?”

He looked at her blankly.

“You know. Like in the movies.”

The man had a way of making her feel as if she had antennae sprouting from her head.

“What movies do you watch?”

“The romantic type.”

“Uh-huh.”

And the way he said it…uh-huh. What? Didn’t the man ever go on dates?

He opened his truck door.

Apparently not.

Her hopes of hiring him faded with each passing second. And it wasn’t so much that she didn’t think he’d take the job, it was more that she was beginning to wonder if he was the right person for the job. He has a nice smile. Well, yeah…if he ever used it.

The California sun had started to set, but it was still high enough in the sky that she felt it beat down on her head when she got out of the truck. Bits of white pollen floated on currents of air, and Ali wondered if they came from the scrub trees. And the smell. She tipped her head back and simply inhaled. It smelled like an Old West movie. Okay, like she imagined an Old West movie would smell. Like hay and dust and just the faintest hint of livestock.

“Leave your cat here,” he said when she started to reach behind the seat to grab Mr. Clean. “You can get him after checking in with my mom.”

“Got it.”

He crammed his hat on his head as he came around her side of the big truck, and Ali had an out-of-body experience. One that had her blushing in mortification at the image of him scooping her up in his arms, mounting his horse and riding off into the sunset.

Time to get a life. She watched as he turned away, led her up the front steps, his spurs ching-ching-chinging on the well-worn steps, then turned left and followed the porch around. The man had shoulders so wide he looked like a walking suit of armor. Muscular legs supported the cutest butt she’d ever seen—

Ali!

Well, she could look, right? She was on vacation. Va-ca-tion, and since Dr. Doom and Gloom looked to be a dead end, she may as well get into the swing of things. And, no, she didn’t go in for flings, but she enjoyed a very active fantasy life. She had a feeling she’d be dreaming of cowboys tonight.

They passed a set of French doors, and then another set, the porch nearly as wide as a car. And then she caught a whiff of something, something that smelled like mouth-watering food. Butter, chives and…fried chicken.

“Oh, man.”

“What?” Nick asked as he stopped in front of an old-fashioned half door, the top portion swung open.

“That smells so good.”

He pulled open the bottom half of the door and said, “Mom, the woman you want me to marry is here.”

IF NICK HAD BEEN in a better mood he would have laughed at the expression on Alison Forester’s face.

“Nick,” his mother said, either ignoring him or not having heard him. “What are you doing here?”

“Mom, you wanted me to meet her, didn’t you? I know for sure there’s a waiting list to stay here. Ms. Forester seems to have magically risen to the top.”

It was funny, really, because everyone in the kitchen pointedly avoided looking their way, and there were a lot of people in the kitchen. But they were probably used to this conversation, or various forms of it. If she wasn’t harping on him about going back to a “real job,” his mom was trying to get him married off. Nick wished she’d make up her mind which she wanted most…not that he was going along with either of her plans. Not now. Not ever.

“Why, Nicholas Sheppard,” his mom said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” And to make matters worse, she shot Alison a glance meant to convince her of her innocence. “I’m Martha Sheppard,” she said, holding out her hand.

About as innocent as a barn cat stalking a mouse. Oh, yeah, Nick could see the way her eyes looked Alison over, as the two shook hands. She clearly approved of what she saw.

Wide hips. Check.

Ample breasts. Check.

Nice teeth. Check.

Nick decided to nip this right in the bud.

“She’s already seeing someone.”

“Actually, I’m not,” Allison said. “And I’m sorry your son doesn’t want to marry me.” She shot him a teasing look. “But it’s actually a relief. I’ve never married a man I’ve never kissed before.”

“I guess this means we’ll have to cancel the wedding,” his mom said, wiping her hands on her apron, which read, Old Women Make Better Lovers. A present from her best friend, Flora.