Private Practice

  “Well, let’s pretend the answer is ‘maybe not.’ Why are you here?”

  “Maybe you’re crazy, Sophie.”

  “You know, as a spirit guide, you suck.”

  Bob laughed out loud. “Your spirit is just fine. It’s your heart that’s aching.”

  “What?” She turned incredulous eyes to an empty rock. “That just sucks,” she yelled into the peaceful meadow. “Get back here.” But only the birds remained.

  Sophie sat up in bed with a startled gasp. The pressure of saving the company must be driving her over the edge. “Damn it. Maybe I am crazy.”

  She pushed snarled curls off her forehead and swung her feet over the bed. The cold wood floor forced a chill up her legs, and she darted to her suitcase for socks and a comfortable cardigan. Her eye caught the soft light filtering through the silk curtains—and the clock. She gasped as she noted the time—she’d better hurry. What did one wear to a branding party?

  With a shrug, she donned dark jeans and a light purple blouse and grabbed a sweater in case the weather turned. A quick swipe of mascara and a clip to contain her curls finished her look. After pulling on her new boots, she secured the chief’s directions in one hand and darted out the door.

  Once in the Jeep, she sat for a moment. With an irritated sigh, she jumped out of the car and back inside to grab her sketchbook. She was going to be late.

  The directions were simple. Sophie drove through town and turned left at Rain’s Crossing. Soon enough, freshly painted white fences lined both sides of the road where horses ranging from light tan to colorful paints frolicked to the right, while steers and cows dotted the field to the left. She’d have to return when she had more time to sketch the placid scene of contrasting colors.

  She pulled in behind a green Ford pickup beside a trio of large brown cows chewing grass in their large mouths. Sophie gave the three an uneasy smile before following the line of trucks up a slight hill. She stopped at the rise and surveyed the ranch below. To the left of a large two-story log-planked house, colorful picnic tables perched among the trees near a large bunkhouse. Several barns, paddocks, and fenced areas stood to the right, as did most of the crowd.

  Her boots clomped a rhythmic tune down the hill, toward the sounds of hooting and hollering. Several people stood on or by a three-slatted white fence, shouting encouragement. She spotted Dawn standing on the bottom rail of the sturdy fence and made a beeline for her new friend. She had just placed one foot on the bottom rung when a cheer rose from the spectators.

  “This way, Colt!” a man called from inside the square corral.

  She knew that voice. Awareness fluttered in her stomach at hearing Jake’s deep baritone. She shifted up to see over the top rung.

  Good God. The man was in chaps.

  Actual chaps.

  Jake’s worn cowboy hat perched atop a grimy forehead as sweat ran in rivulets down his dirty face. Mud and dust caked his black shirt, and light jeans poked through the deep brown chaps protecting his legs. He dug scuffed cowboy boots into the earth while twisting two large horns in his leather-gloved hands, rolling a massive steer to the ground. Jake’s face set into hard lines of determination as he battled the beast.

  The steer bellowed when Jake shifted to press one firm knee into its neck, his hands pressing the horns to the ground, effectively immobilizing the animal’s body. Colton rushed in with a needle and inoculated the animal just before another man pressed a hot iron to its flank.

  The stench of burning fur filled the air in tune with the steer’s protest. Jake released him and jumped back. The steer leaped to its feet and ran out a narrow side exit into another pasture. The beast had to weigh at least a ton, maybe two. Fortunately, the pen safely kept the spectators from danger.

  Jake grinned at Colton across the dusty pen, his dimple winking through the grime. “It’s your turn to roll ’em to the ground.” He yanked off his hat and wiped his forehead with one muscled arm.

  “But you’re so good at it,” his brother returned, his face caked with mud.

  Sophie stood in shock as warmth pooled deep in her belly. She was so completely out of her element. Yet what a display. She had never seen such masculinity before.

  Man against beast.

  And man won.

  He was filthy. Covered in dirt and who knew what else. The urge to kiss Jake again tempted her. Her mother would be shocked.

  His dark gaze found her, and she forgot all about her mother. She may have forgotten how to breathe. Then he smiled and she forgot how to think.

  “Well hello, Sunshine.” He pounded his cowboy hat on his chaps and dust flew as he stalked toward her. “You look pretty today.” Then his dimple winked again. “I like your boots.” He stopped just on the other side, eye-to-eye with her as she stood, riveted, on the fence rung.

  “Me, too.” Warmth flushed her face. “They’re my favorites.”

  “You wear them well.” Something unidentifiable flashed through his eyes. For some reason, his look streaked heat through the rest of her. “Are you going to eat lunch with me?” The dimple returned.

  “I didn’t bring lunch.” Her eyes fixed on his mouth.

  “I brought enough for both of us.” The sound of another steer prodding toward the pen echoed behind him. “I have about ten more to do before lunch.” He turned back just as the beast rushed into view. “Dawnie, tell Sophie the rules for watching,” he called over his shoulder, his attention on the animal.

  Dawn tipped back her cream-colored cowboy hat and gave Sophie a big smile.

  “Rules?” Sophie muttered.

  “Oh yeah, there are always rules, trust me,” Dawn said with a practiced eye roll. “Basically, if a steer comes your way, take three steps back.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, we haven’t had one bust through the fence in a while, but it has happened.”

  Three steps? Man, she’d run for the car. “Okay.”

  “So how was your date?”

  Now Sophie rolled her eyes. “It wasn’t a date. It was business.”

  “Right.” Dawn straightened. “Colton, watch your left,” she yelled just as the steer turned its head.

  Sophie gasped as Colton shifted to the left, narrowly missing being gouged. “Good thing you’re here to watch your brothers,” she said quietly.

  Dawn nodded toward the third man in the pen. “I’m here to watch Hawk.”

  “Hawk?” The name fit. Thick black hair was cut short above a face too sharp to be rugged. Deep green eyes watched the steer as he waited with the branding iron, his chiseled face fierce in concentration. He stood well over six feet and filled out his black shirt hard. “Can’t say I blame you. Though he looks older than you.”

  “Yeah. This is actually his spread. He’s been Colton’s best friend since they were in diapers, and they’re only three and a half years older than me. Though it might as well be a million.”

  “Oh. Sorry.” In love with her brother’s best friend? That did suck.

  Dawn shrugged. “I’m of age. Next time he’s on leave, I will have graduated from college. Finally.”

  “On leave?”

  “Hawk’s in the navy, a SEAL. He’s on leave for a week and then he goes back. But,” she said, sadness creeping into the young woman’s words, “it seems like every time he comes back, he’s even further away.” She was quiet for a moment before perking up. “Though Jake was like that, too, and then he got over it.”

  “Jake was a SEAL?”

  Dawn shook her head. “No. Army Ranger. I don’t know what he did, but I think it took a toll.” A wry grin lit her face. “Though he’s all better now.” A thoughtfulness entered her pretty features. “Not so sure about Quinn.”

  “Quinn?”

  “Yeah. He was Special Forces—and he doesn’t like to talk about it much. He came back and is the sheriff now.”

  “Your brother’s the sheriff?”

  “Yep. Believe me, if it wasn’t bad enough trying to find a date with three older
brothers, having one of them become the law in town really makes it tough.”

  Sophie shook her head. “I can imagine.” What would it be like to have family actually care about you, actually be involved in your life? The Lodge-Freeze family intrigued her. “What about Colton? Is he in the service?”

  “Nope. He’s on spring break. He’ll graduate next month in finance. He runs all our family businesses now, but we won’t give him the title or salary until he finishes school.” She grinned. “It’s a family joke.”

  Probably had to be family to understand it. “The family business is the ranch?”

  Dawn shrugged. “The ranches are included in the family holdings. We’ve diversified over the years.”

  Sounded impressive. Sophie eyed the cowboys. There was a lot more to the Lodge men than she’d thought. “What about you, Dawn? Are you studying finance as well?”

  “No. I’m a photography major.” The woman teetered on her boots. “Well, and a business minor.”

  A hush came over the crowd, and several more people moved toward the fence.

  “Buttercup’s next,” Dawn whispered.

  “Buttercup?” Sophie asked, her eyes riveted on Jake.

  “Buttercup,” Dawn confirmed, a grin in her voice. “Jake named him a few years back after he connected with a horn.”

  “Was he hurt?”

  Dawn shrugged. “He needed stitches, but it didn’t slow him down any.” Her gaze stayed on the opened gate to Hawk’s left as cowboys prodded the steer inside the pen. The gate slammed shut, and the beast sauntered into the pen.

  Sophie lost her breath.

  Chapter Six

  Two sharp, massive horns perched ominously on the largest animal head Sophie had ever seen. Gray fur covered a gigantic body that had to be at least double the size of the last animal, and its black eyes shone with a devil’s light. It pawed the ground and huffed, its enormous head swiveling to challenge Jake.

  Jake leaned casually against the side fence. “Hi, Buttercup,” he said to the amusement of the watching crowd.

  Buttercup flicked its tail and muscles bunched as it snorted again.

  “Ready for the timer, Jake?” an older man, his face hidden by the brim of a brown cowboy hat, shouted from the far side of the pen.

  Jake looked to Colton and Hawk, who both nodded. “Start the timer.”

  Fast as a whip and just as unforgiving, Jake struck. His gloves latched onto those deadly horns. Buttercup blew out a snort and tossed his head. Jake slid to the side, his face set in brutal concentration, his hands holding tight. A roar rose from the crowd as the steer bucked both feet toward Colton while frantically trying to shake off Jake.

  Jake’s head jerked back.

  With a burst of speed, he pivoted and thrust a muscled thigh into the steer’s side. His foot swept the animal’s hind legs before he threw all of his weight back, his arms twisting.

  Dust swirled around the two.

  Buttercup bellowed, legs pawing the ground, before throwing his enormous bulk toward Jake. With a fierce grin, Jake dodged to the side, barely avoided being crushed, and let the steer’s momentum propel them to thud against the hard earth.

  Smooth as silk, quick as lightning, Jake rolled to his side and wedged one knee against the steer’s neck, his hands pressing the horns to the ground. The beast fought to regain its feet. Both man and beast panted furiously as dirt drifted around them.

  “Sorry, Buttercup, I win today,” Jake said softly to the animal.

  A round of laughter rose around the pen.

  “Whose steer is he?” Sophie released the breath she had been holding, ignoring a sudden buzzing in her ears and a tightening in her belly.

  “He’s ours.”

  “So are the rest of the steers owned by the tribe?”

  Dawn shook her head. “Some are owned by tribal members, some by other ranchers in the area. The entire Maverick County gets together once or twice a year to inoculate the animals. Plus”—she jumped down from her perch and sent dust flying—“it’s a good reason for a party.” She peered up at Sophie. “I’m going to meet some friends by the picnic tables. Do you want to come?”

  “No thanks.” Sophie smiled down at her. “I’ll stay here.”

  “Don’t blame you. There’s nothing like a man in chaps, is there?” Dawn headed off.

  Sophie turned back to the pen where sharp green eyes followed Dawn’s movements. Hmm. Maybe Hawk wasn’t as oblivious as Dawn thought. And the woman was right. There was nothing like a man in chaps.

  A tall figure took Dawn’s place at Sophie’s side. “How are my boys doing?” A deep voice rumbled the question as one scuffed brown boot perched on the bottom railing and two broad arms rested on the top fence slat.

  “Your boys?” Sophie glanced into eyes the exact shade of Dawn’s.

  “Yes. Those two…” He nodded to Jake and Colton. “And that one’s close enough—his mama died way too young.” He inclined his head toward Hawk. “I’m Tom.”

  “Sophie.” She appreciated the gentle touch in the large calloused hand enclosing hers. “They’re doing well.” She met him eye-to-eye from her position on the higher rung. Thick gray hair was cut short under a brown Stetson, a prominent jaw claimed a rugged stubbornness, and dark Wrangler jeans showed a man still fit and ready to ride. Competency and kindness swirled around him like leaves around a massive tree trunk. Her chest tightened at Tom’s words. He considered Jake his son. Roger had always referred to her as “June’s daughter, Sophia.”

  “Oh man, did I miss Buttercup?” Tom glanced toward the far field.

  Sophie shook off old memories and laughed. “Yeah, a few minutes ago.”

  “Darn it. Who won the bet?”

  “What bet?”

  “On how long it took Jake to take him down.”

  “I don’t know.”

  Tom shrugged. “I would’ve heard if I won. So how was your date with my son?”

  “It wasn’t a date,” Sophie protested as Colton wrestled with the newest steer while Jake remained ready on the sidelines.

  “Pity,” Tom murmured. “It’s about time that boy had some fun.”

  “He’s having fun now.” Sophie nodded toward a grinning Jake. White teeth were illuminated against trails of dirt and sweat.

  “He sure is,” Tom agreed. “But I meant the other kind. I thought he might finally be moving on.”

  “Moving on?” It wasn’t any of her business, but…

  “After Emily died, well, we wondered if he’d ever smile again. But he had Leila to worry about.”

  “He mentioned his wife died young.”

  “Too young. Way too young to learn what matters in this life.” Soberness mellowed Tom’s words as Colton jumped back from a newly released steer.

  “Which is?”

  “Hawk, to your left,” Tom called out, tensing until the young man shifted away from kicking hoofs. He returned to their conversation. “You know, learned what’s important. People. Memories. Family.” Tom focused over the fence and acknowledged Jake’s nod with a nod of his own. He turned toward Sophie and extended an arm. “That was the high sign from Jake. Why don’t I escort you over to the picnic tables? He’ll be along shortly.” All around them people stepped back from the fence, though most kept their attention on the pen.

  “High sign?” She took his proffered arm and jumped from her perch.

  “The next three steers are known kickers. Tulip always goes for the crowd.”

  “Tulip?” Sophie chuckled.

  “Yep. Tulip, Snuggles, and Lola. The boys have a sense of humor.”

  Sophie shook her head as she allowed Tom to lead her across the road to the picnic tables. The walk took some time, since they stopped to chat with people along the way; most had heard of her, some asked about her date, and all seemed to like Tom.

  Bright red, yellow, and blue-checked cloths covered massive tables where people dug in to delicious-smelling chicken, steak, and sweet fruit salad. Children ran around g
leefully while elderly women patted babies and people chatted. Several were obviously of native descent, but just as many people were blond with blue eyes. The whole county must have been in attendance.

  “Here we are,” Tom said as they arrived at a table where a petite Native American woman uncovered plastic containers. “This is my wife, Loni.” Pride filled his words.

  “Hi.” Sophie released Tom’s arm to extend a hand to the pretty woman. Jake’s eyes gleamed from a tanned oval face with delicate features and a genuine smile.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Sophie.” Loni smiled and shook her hand. “Please sit. The boys should be along shortly.”

  Sophie sat and studied Jake’s mother. Intelligence that matched Jake’s glimmered in her eyes. Sophie took a sip of the sweet, tart lemonade she offered. “Thank you.”

  “Sure. So what did you think of the branding? Did you see Buttercup?”

  “Yes. Very impressive.”

  “I heard Quinn won the bet,” Loni informed her husband.

  “Again?” Tom rubbed his chin. “Man, that boy has a second sense about that stuff. Unless…”

  Loni shook her head. “He and Jake are not in cahoots, Tom. Give it up.”

  “I don’t know.” Tom tugged his wife’s braid before pecking her cheek with a kiss.

  Sophie marveled at the couple’s closeness. Her mother and Roger had never seemed to actually like each other. Well, the few times she saw them together, anyway.

  “Hey, Mom.” Quinn moved into sight, carrying a little girl snuggling her face into his neck. “We have crocodile tears here.”

  “Tears?” Loni reached up as Quinn transferred a small girl into her waiting arms. “What’s wrong, Leila?”

  A feminine sniff came from the small child. She lifted her head. “Tommy McAlister pulled my braids and the sheriff won’t shoot him.”

  “Oh.” Loni stifled a laugh. “I’m pretty sure the sheriff isn’t supposed to shoot people, even if he is your uncle. So, your braids, huh?”

  “Yeah.” Sniff.

  “Did it hurt?” Loni snuggled her closer.

  “Well, no…”

  “But it hurt your feelers?”

  “Kind of.” Another sniff.