Once Touched (12 page)

Josh laughed. “Don't want to ruin your day, man, but my technique yields way sweeter results than milk in a bucket. So, word has it you and Quinn had quite the night.”

Ethan had wondered how long it would take Josh to get to the point. “Her horse got sick.”

“Yeah. Colic, huh? That can be real bad.”

His fist pressed against Hennie's udder. She wasn't at empty yet, damn it. He couldn't get up and walk away and leave the doe with milk in her bag. That would hurt. “Yeah. The vet had to operate.”

Josh whistled. “Must've cost a pretty penny.”

Ethan remembered the figure Cooney quoted to Quinn. He didn't share it with Josh. “I guess.”

A silence fell between them, and Ethan began to hope that was the end of the conversation. He was doomed to disappointment.

“Not sure I'd have opted for surgery myself.”

Ethan glanced over his shoulder. Josh looked serious. “You'd have put him down?” he asked, in case Josh didn't understand that was the only other option Quinn faced.

“Yeah. If it had been Domino or even one of the trail horses, I could see the point. But Tucker's a rescue. And given the way he shies at everything under the sun, he won't ever be able to be ridden by a guest, and I'd lay odds he'll never work cattle. Quinn would have a hell of a time selling him, so it's not like she'd ever recoup the money spent on the operation. On top of that, colic surgery doesn't always succeed. Tucker could die next week of complications, or he could come down with colic again four months from now. Then all that money would have gone to waste.”

What Josh was saying was reasonable. Pragmatic. A number of ranchers might come to the same conclusion. Spending the kind of money Tucker's operation cost when his chances of making a full recovery were by no means guaranteed wasn't something everyone would deem wise. That Tucker didn't earn his keep the way the trail or cutting horses on the ranch did made the decision even more problematic.

Ethan thought about Quinn, about how scared she'd been for the horse, and how her voice had shook when she'd spoken to Cooney and reiterated her determination to save the gelding if it was at all possible. He remembered wanting to wrap his arms about her, pull her close, and press his lips to the corners of her eyes, blotting the tears that threatened.

And when the operation was over and Cooney came out of the operating room to discuss the surgery, he remembered the trembling that seized her, and how he'd wanted to kiss her. Really kiss her because she was brave and generous, the most beautiful woman he'd seen in a long time.

He realized the sound of spurting milk had ceased. Hennie was done. Thank fuck. He straightened and lifted the bucket off the platform, taking care not to slosh its contents, and then stepped back. Hennie nimbly leapt to the ground, butting him affectionately before trotting off to rejoin the other does.

For a second he simply looked at Josh who, from the tip of his cowboy hat to the toes of his stitched boots, radiated supreme self-confidence. Was he ever troubled by a moment's doubt? Did he ever question his assumptions about the world? Ethan wanted nothing more than to send Josh on his merry way so he could share his views with anyone who would stop to listen—Quinn included. But she seemed to like Josh, and certainly appreciated his kisses. Ethan's mood soured at the thought.

“Let me give you a piece of advice, Josh. If you want any chance with Quinn, never breathe a word of the choice you'd have made for Tucker.”

Q
UINN DIDN'T BELIEVE
in ruminating. They had several hundred head of cattle for that. And the day had started on a great note: she'd called the veterinary clinic and was told that Tucker's temperature was in the normal range, he was drinking, and he had even nibbled a bit of alfalfa. Just as great, Cooney had given her the green light for an afternoon visit. Quinn knew the gelding's situation could change on a dime, but so far things were looking good for her horse. Reason enough to pay it forward and create some good karma by adopting an animal in need.

And by acting quickly, she would catch Ethan before he'd had a chance to retreat into his shell like a two-legged hermit crab.

Since she planned to go to the shelter alone, she borrowed her brother Ward's Jeep, stowing a large crate in the cargo area and placing a plate of brownies piled almost as high as the pyramids of Güímar in Spain on the passenger seat. Marsha and Lorelei, who ran the shelter on a shoestring budget, deserved nothing but the seriously decadent best when it came to chocolate indulgence.

She stopped in town on the way. A cup of joe was in order, and the baristas at Spillin' the Beans knew exactly how she liked hers: a triple-shot espresso with two sugars because everything in life should be strong and sweet. She'd downed half of it by the time she reached the end of the block and entered the general store, which also housed the post office, the branch bank, and the luncheonette—one-stop shopping at its funkiest and finest—to pick up her mail and extend Maebeth and Nancy their invitation to celebrate Thanksgiving at the ranch.

Her mom had been delighted with the idea. “How nice,” she said when Quinn had floated it after they finished the breakfast Jeff and Roo cooked. “I hope Nancy and Maebeth haven't already made plans, but if they have, invite them to come by for pie and coffee, Quinn. We'll be at the table for some time.”

“Will do. And you're including Ethan in the head count, right?”

Her mother had looked at her strangely. “Of course.”

“I'm only asking because he and I got to talking about Thanksgiving while we were walking Tucker. He said he had no plans.” She kept her voice casual.

“Certainly we want him with us. I only wish we could have Cheryl and Tony join us, too. They're so worried about Ethan. We're all hoping he'll agree to come to Ward and Tess's wedding so that they can see him then and try to get a sense of his plans for the future.” She sighed. “I'm afraid it'll take some heavy-duty convincing to get him to New York for the wedding, though. And I'll ask Josh—”

“To the wedding?” Quinn squawked, sounding like Alfie when she vacuumed near his cage.

“Oh!” Her mother's face brightened. “Would you like that, darling? I'm so glad you and he have become friends.”

She thought fast. “You know, Mom, I'm not sure that would be fair. Jim isn't on the guest list, is he? And he's worked for us for four years. And we'll need dependable ranch hands here to make sure everything's running smoothly while we're away. Otherwise Dad would worry.”

“True. But we definitely need to invite Josh to Thanksgiving dinner. He was so sweet the other day, talking with Pete about his favorite side dishes. Apparently Josh's mother makes a macaroni and cheese with poblano peppers. This is the first year he won't be home with his family. I was thinking you might make the poblano macaroni and cheese for him, Quinn.”

Aha, at last the matchmaking moves were coming out into the open. Unlike her brothers, she knew the trick to dealing with Adele Knowles: play dumb.

She pinned a smile on her lips. “Sure, Mom. I guess I can boil up some noodles and melt some cheese, drop in some peppers, and voilà.”

Her mother barely managed to suppress a shudder. “I know he'll appreciate it. Josh is such a dear.” Her voice rang with happy conviction.

“He is. Absolutely. The ranch guests have all taken a shine to him. Got to go, Mom. Alfie's been neglected.” Seizing the excuse, she had beaten a hasty retreat before her mother could begin singing Josh's praises. When Adele liked someone, she didn't just hit a couple of notes; she offered up bonus tracks.

Soon Quinn would have to think about Josh, whether his kiss bore repeating, and if she wanted to venture further into new,
virgin
territory with him. She was certain she'd told Ethan the truth when she'd pronounced Josh a good kisser. Better still, he was a decent guy and likeable, which meant she probably should give it a shot and see whether they set off any sparks.

Heck, she'd be pleased if she could manage a little fizz.

But when she tried to picture Josh and her together, memories rose up of failures with other guys she'd also believed good and kind. The fear that history would repeat itself ballooned in her mind. The thought of seeing that look come into his eyes and for his smile to harden into a sneer…well, it would just suck. Plain and simple. Obviously she needed to stick a pin in her apprehension and watch it deflate to laughable proportions, but that was easier said than done. Until she managed it, she intended to keep a low profile. When that failed, as it was bound to at Thanksgiving, she wanted Josh to have plenty of distractions.

Who better than Nancy and Maebeth?

Stepping inside the building, she spotted the two of them working behind the counter. The luncheonette's tables were full, with only a couple of the round stools empty, but that didn't prevent either from glancing at the door and flashing a smile of welcome.

A few customers looked up, too, and on her way to the mailboxes she waved to a couple of familiar ones as she passed the cork bulletin board with its multihued fliers offering used tricycles, brass headboards, and guitars for sale as well as announcements for tai chi lessons and reading groups. Quinn had her own mailbox, separate from the rest of her family, because of the number of animal magazines and rescue newsletters she received. Today was no exception, but she didn't bother to look at any of them, just shoved the elastic-bound roll under her arm and made her way over to the lunch counter.

Nancy and Maebeth were a few years older than she, but Quinn considered them friends and shared a sense of solidarity since they all worked in the service industry. The two women could have easily gotten jobs at Silver Creek, but they liked being the epicenter of town gossip. And they loved their regulars, who left with their bellies full and their faces wreathed in smiles put there by Maebeth's and Nancy's easygoing chatter.

“Hey, Quinn,” Maebeth said as she cut a slice of pecan-sprinkled coffeecake and slid it onto a white china plate. “Heard you had some trouble with one of your horses.”

“Tucker's holding his own. Cooney's letting me visit later today.”

“Good to hear.” She placed the coffeecake in front of a customer who was poring over the sports pages and then gestured at the glaze-topped cake. “Want me to cut you a piece? It's fresh from the oven.”

“No thanks, I'm still eating my way through the goodies Roo baked yesterday to cheer me up.”

Nancy came over with a toasted bagel. With deft movements she smeared it with cream cheese and then added smoked salmon, chives, and two slices of lemon. “Lucky you. I love her desserts. I still remember this hazelnut cake she made last winter. To. Die. For.”

“Come join us at Silver Creek for Thanksgiving, and I'll put in a request for the hazelnut cake.”

They both paused to flash her smiles.

Nancy spoke first. “That's real nice of you, Quinn. But I'm celebrating with my folks. They like to make a big deal of it. Dean sits on my pop's lap and helps carve the turkey, and this year Kayla's helping Mom bake the apple pie.”

“Can't miss that. But if your feast is on the early side, you and the kids could come around afterward. If you don't have room for more dessert, we do takeaway.”

Nancy laughed. “Your mom probably has super-nice containers.”

“Could you doubt it? We usually congregate at my folks' house around five o'clock, after we've tended to the animals. It also gives Roo and Jeff a chance to finish up at the restaurant and join us.”

“Thanks. I'll see how pooped the kids are.” Nancy picked up the bagel-and-lox plate and brought it over to a man who was sitting at the other end of the counter and was brave enough to tackle the crossword puzzle with a ballpoint pen.

“And how about you, Maebeth?”

“Honestly? I'd love to join you. I hadn't gotten around to making plans yet. My folks are away on a cruise and my brother's having Thanksgiving with his in-laws. They're up in Madeline, kind of a haul. Some friends were talking about ordering Chinese and eating a few Peking ducks and watching a marathon of
Friday the 13th
movies, but I really love turkey and stuffing, ya know?”

Dear Lord, chowing down on sliced duck
and
watching slasher movies? Wasn't that overkill? “It'll be awesome if you come, Maebeth. Mom will be really pleased—you know how much she likes parties.”

“What can I bring?”

“Oh, you don't have to—” Quinn began, but then inspiration struck. “Actually, you know what? Josh was talking about this side dish he loves. It's a macaroni and cheese made with poblano peppers.”

“Yum, sounds delish.”

“Could you make that?”

Maebeth frowned. “Wouldn't you rather make it?”

“Oh, no.” Quinn shook her head firmly. “You're a way better cook than I am. Why don't you talk to Josh and get the recipe from him?” Mission accomplished, she checked her watch. “Listen, I gotta skedaddle. I need to see some gals about a dog. Catch you two later.”

Karma, the fates, the Almighty, or possibly a combination of all three were definitely smiling on her this morning, Quinn decided forty minutes later as she stood in the exercise run of the animal shelter looking at an Australian shepherd that had been dropped off two days ago.

The Aussie was a blue merle with bicolored eyes, one blue and the other brown. His name was Bowie. Quinn threw the ball again, watching him tear across the enclosure, jump, and catch it in midair. He was fast, almost as fast as Sooner.

“He's good with Frisbees, too,” Marsha said, brushing her hands against her jeans. Lorelei was still working on her brownie.

Bowie ran back, dropped the tennis ball at her feet, and wagged his hindquarters.

With a smile she picked up the ball and threw it even farther. One advantage to having brothers was that she had a good throwing arm. They'd been so proud when she started pitching on the high school softball team. “What's Bowie's story?”

“He's three, right, Marsha?” Lorelei popped the last of her brownie in her mouth and licked her lips. “That brownie was amazing, by the way, Quinn.”

“If you and Francesco and Marsha drop by on Thanksgiving, I'll make a couple of batches for dessert.”

“And there goes ten pounds straight to my ass,” Marsha lamented.

Quinn snorted. “Nonsense. You'll burn it off running around with rascals like Bowie here. So he's three, socialized, and likes balls and Frisbees. Why in the world hasn't someone adopted him?”

Marsha made a face. “We thought we had a couple lined up to take him. The husband loved him, but when he brought his wife to meet Bowie yesterday after work, it all fell to pieces. She was freaked out by his eyes.” Marsha rolled hers. “Sometimes this job makes it really hard to respect the human species. The thing about Bowie is that we can't place him just anywhere. Look at him. He needs exercise and lots of it. You can throw that ball for an hour and he's still raring to go.”

A good example of the breed. “How'd he end up here?” she asked.

“A kid in his twenties dropped him off. Just got a job as a sales rep for a fastener manufacturer and he'll have to travel two weeks out of every month. The job's located in Michigan.”

“No family member would take him?”