LOVE OF A RODEO MAN (MODERN DAY COWBOYS) (18 page)

Afraid to hope even yet,
Sara took the paper with trembling fingers and studied the concise figures. The amount he’d arrived at as a purchase price wasn’t outrageous, but it made her gulp all the same. Doc wasn’t giving her anything...except an unheard-of opportunity to own her own practice, which Sara wouldn’t have dared even to begin dreaming of for at least another five years.

“Take the damned paper away with you and go over it carefully. Nobody should buy anything without giving it time,” he ordered. “Not too much time, however. If you decide it’s what you want, then the business is yours as soon as I get the papers drawn up, and I’m through on Friday.” He glanced beyond her to the door, where they both knew Floyd was probably hovering, hoping to hear what was going on, and Doc’s voice lowered until she had to lean forward in order to hear.

“There’s one thing, not a condition, of course, but...I’d be grateful if you could see your way clear to keeping Floyd on. I know he’s drinking heavy again, but I’ll throw the fear of God into him for you if you agree. He does need the job...” Doc was embarrassed, avoiding her eyes as he made the request.

“Of course.” If she hadn’t met Judy, would she have agreed so readily to keeping Floyd on? Sara didn’t pause to think about it right now. She understood a great deal more than she had before about Doc, and about Floyd, too. She looked at the old vet, her heart full of gr
atitude, unable to say anything of what she felt because she knew he would wave it impatiently away with some caustic comment or other.

“Thank you, Doc,” was all she managed, and sure enough, he waved a hand at her as if he were brushing away a pesky fly.

“Don’t you have calls to make, girl? You young vets seem to waste an awful amount of time having coffee breaks and lunches,” he harrumphed, and Sara couldn’t resist.

She walked behind the desk and boldly planted a hearty kiss on his cheek.

Doc turned magenta and glared at her until she left the office. “See you phone me the minute you make up your mind,” he all but snarled after her.

She heard him snort, “Women,” as she shut the door behind her.

Sara couldn’t remember
afterward just which farms she visited that afternoon or even what animals she treated. Once she was out of the office, her brain went from Mitch and his proposal to Doc and his, and the more she thought of both, the more uncertain and confused she became, and the more anxious she felt.

Mitch had already complained in a good-natured way about how little time they had together because of her job. If she accepted Doc’s offer and bought the vet practice, she was practical enough to admit that even the small amount of free time she now had would most likely be sacrificed to work—she wouldn’t be able to afford any assistant other than Floyd, and financially, she needed all the work that opportunity presented.

In other words, she’d be forced to work as many hours a day as possible. Would Mitch be able to accept that? The alternative was to refuse Doc’s offer, which would result in the practice selling to someone else, and more than likely, with Sara having to move away if she wanted to go on practicing.

She couldn’t refuse, she simply couldn’t. Doc was making a dream come true for her. Somehow, she’d balance her job and her love for Mitch.

Just before she drove home to Bitterroot, she phoned Doc. “Could you have the lawyer draw up those papers, please, just the way you suggested this morning?” she asked with a catch in her throat. “I want very much to buy the business.”

Doc snorted. “Damn well took you long enough to make up your mind, young woman” was all he said before he hung up.

Sara found that she was shaking as she drove home slowly to Bitterroot. Too much had happened in just two days, too many changes were imminent in her life.

At Bitterroot, t
oo, things were changing fast. Instead of Jennie or Gram calling out a greeting and having a leisurely cup of tea with her when she came home and giving her an opportunity to discuss what was on her mind, the place was a maelstrom of frenzied activity. A new dishwasher had been installed that afternoon in the kitchen, and a huge freezer had been delivered.

Gram was already busily stirring an immense pot of chili while Sara’s mother tossed a salad in a bowl nearly large enough to bathe in when Sara walked into the kitchen.

Mitch hadn’t arrived yet. Should she tell her family about buying the business, or should she wait for Mitch and announce their engagement first and her business dealings second? Or should she tell Mitch privately about the business, and then...

“Sara, grab that pot holder, child, and get those rolls out of the oven, will you? And then take these plates out and pile them with the cutlery on the buffet
, we’re serving things casual like tonight. Jennie, d’you figure we’ve got ample dessert made or should I whip up some more?”

Jennie gave Sara a quick
hug on her way to the fridge.

“We’ve got plenty, Mom, barring an army invasion. Hi, Sara, Ruth was here till half an hour ago
, that woman’s an absolute treasure. Her husband finally phoned and she had to go home to make him supper. Do you think he’s going to mind her starting work here tomorrow? She was just wonderful, helping us today, and she said she hadn’t had such fun for a long time.”

That gave Sara pause for thought. On top of everything else, she started thinking about Wilson’s reaction when he found out his wife had a job at Bitterroot and
that his son was engaged to the woman vet.

Wow.

If both Ruth and Mitch broke their news tonight, Wilson was in for a bad evening, Sara mused with a wicked grin, setting out baskets for buns and getting roped into three more jobs before she finally managed to slip away to her own cabin to shower and change into a sleeveless top and a brightly printed cotton skirt before Mitch arrived.

It was nearly midnight before Sara and Mitch even had a chance to exchange more than a few words with each other, and they didn’t tell Jennie, Dave and Gram about their engagement at all that evening.

In fact, everyone was too tired to do more than grunt, anyway, by the time the crowd cleared.

Mitch planted an exhausted kiss somewhere to the left of Sara’s mouth and went home without giving her an engagement ring.

“I’ll come by tomorrow an
d pick you up at the office after work,” he promised her, his voice a little grim. “If you can be finished by five, that is. I want to do this properly, without fifty million starving people watching me put a ring on your finger.”

Sara agreed and
apologized for what had happened that evening. Things at the lodge had gotten quite out of hand, because about thirty rambunctious and hungry young men had descended on the place expecting supper.

It seemed that Gram, in an excess of enthusiasm, had told several customers on Satur
day that there would be an all-you-can-eat chili dinner on Monday night, same price as the spaghetti feast had been, and they’d eagerly spread the word among their friends.

Mitch had barely climbed out of his truck when he was hauled into the lodge and put to work helping Dave fashion makeshift tables out of boards and sawhorses.

Sara wasn’t waiting for him in her cabin, anyway. She was up to her elbows in dishwater in the kitchen, washing plates because the new dishwasher had sprung a leak the moment it was turned on.

It was the only night at Bitterroot that she found herself wishing desperately for a veterinary emergency so she could insist she needed Mitch’s help and spirit them both away, and it was one of those rare times when the phone didn’t ring for her services even once.

More and more hungry people arrived, Sara’s hands shriveled from hot water and detergent, and there wasn’t a chance for a stolen kiss all evening, much less a proper time to receive a ring and announce an engagement.

It was unbelievable how m
uch people could eat at an all-you-can-eat chili dinner.

‘‘Mitch, it’s gorgeous.” Sara stared down at her left hand, admiring the antique ruby ring Mitch had finally slid onto her finger moments before.

“Best of all, it fits,” he an
swered with practical satisfaction.

They were in the veterinary office with the doors safely locked. It was after hours, and Sara had carefully switched on the answering machine and made sure Floyd was gone. She’d even insisted the cats go outside and stay out.

After last night, she wasn’t taking any chances.

“It was my grandmother’s ring. She had two, this and an emerald. Mom gave one to Bob and one to me years ago, to give to the women we’d marry someday,” Mitch explained, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close. “Mine’s never been out of the safety deposit box, because there’s never been anyone li
ke you,” he told an enthralled Sara. A pleased, little-boy grin spread across his rugged features. “I’m glad you like it, Doc.”

“I absolutely love it. I’ll treasure it as long as I live, and that’s how long I’ll love you,” Sara assured him, planting a kiss on his chin and then gasping as he took over and made a much more thorough job of the whole thing.

One thing led to another, and soon they were making good use of the couch in the waiting room. Sara knew she’d never look at that couch again without feeling a blush rise in her cheeks.

Mitch told her much later
that his father nearly had apoplexy when his mother broke the news about her job at Bitterroot. His mother had never worked outside of her own home before, and Wilson considered this a blow to his male ego.

Mitch didn’t tell her that Wilson also blamed Sara for the whole thing. And that he’d nearly had a seizure when Mitch announced that he was about to marry her. As a result, he and his father had had another massive blowup.

What with one thing and another, Sara never did find exactly the right moment to tell Mitch she was buying the business from Doc Stone.

Just as Sara had expected, Gram and Jennie were beside themselves with excitement over the engagement. They saw it as an ideal opportunity to invite the residents of Plains and outlying areas to a celebration at Bitterroot, which would introduce the entire community to the new restaurant.

A barbecue, held outdoors by the pool. And, of course, it was to announce that Sara and Mitch were to be married, but wasn’t it superb timing on their part, getting engaged just when publicity for
the Bitterroot Resort and Dining Room was most needed?

“Every pot has a lid,” Gram said to Sara when they finally had a quiet moment together. “I knew right off when I met him that Mitchell was the right lid for you.”

“Gram, for heaven’s sake, you make us sound like a set of cookware or something,” Sara protested.

“Stainless steel,” Gram pronounced. “That boy is steel through and through. I know quality when I see it. And no question about you, dear. You come from good stock. Stubborn, but good stock all the same.” She narrowed her eyes and peered at Sara over her glasses. “You gotta remember, though, honey, any marriage is sixty-forty. You give sixty percent, the man gives forty. That’s why I never married again after your grampa.”

“Not anymore, Gram, it’s been renegotiated. It’s straight fifty-fifty now.”

Gram snorted eloquently. “Bull,” she stated succinctly.

The engagement party was planned a week from Sunday. On Wednesday, Sara signed
on the dotted line, the scared-stiff new owner of Stone’s Veterinary Service.

The lawyer’s name wa
s Martin Leskey. He was contemporary to Doc Stone, and he talked and moved so slowly every single thing took twice as long as it ought to take. He was determined that Sara should understand all the aspects of the transaction.

As one hour slipped into an
other, Sara found herself looking at the clock first curiously and then with growing concern as the lawyer went on and on in excruciating detail about every last thing.

There were still two calls she had to make before she could go home, and Martin Leskey seemed ready to prolong the meeting until midnight. “Now, this is an itemized
list of exactly what the business includes, this is the percentage of the purchase price allotted to goodwill, this is..”

Sara knew what she was buying down to the last cotton swab.

“You understand that the business leases the premises it occupies from—” Martin consulted his closely typed notes yet again “—from Equity Holdings, and that notice has been given that the owner is raising the rent beginning in September?”

Sara sat up straighter.
Doc Stone hadn’t mentioned that, and Sara was appalled at the amount of the proposed increase. She thought of the decrepit old house and the faulty plumbing, and indignation took the place of boredom.

“If they’re raising the rent, then I feel something should be done about necessary repairs to the building,” she said firmly, and Martin dutifully noted down all the things Sara listed, from the leaky toilets to the falling-down fence at the rear of the building.

Finally it was finished. Leskey stood up and beamed at Sara, holding out his hand for a congratulatory handshake. “I’ve never met a woman vet before. Never dreamed Doc Stone would sell out to a woman. Well, best of luck, my dear, and if you ever need any legal advice, you know where to reach me.”