Take Me Again (21 page)

God only knows what came over her. Instead of turning around and beating the living crap out of the bastard, she ran out of the supply room. Yanking her head from left to right and back again, she stared down every hallway, desperate to find Dolan.

Dressed in green scrubs, Beth was coming out of the surgical room. She pushed her glasses up her nose, holding an x-ray she studied in her other hand.

Tracy pulled to a stop before her. “Crane,” she breathed his name. “Have you seen him?"

She shook her head. Her expression filled with concern. “Is something wrong, Dr. Marx?"

Tracy tried to smile, hiding the fact her pulse was racing out of control. Tears hid just behind her eyelids. Damn. She had never let a man get to her like Dolan did. “No. I just need to catch him before—” She caught a glimpse of Courtney as she turned around a corner. “Courtney?"

The young blonde reappeared into the hallway. “Yes, Dr. Marx."

"Have you seen Dr. Crane?"

The young technician released a nervous chuckle. “Left out the back door like his tail was on fire. Emergency I guess, but he looked mad enough to spit nails. Do you want me to get him on the telephone for you?"

"No.” Maybe Tracy could catch him. Moving hastily, she headed for the back entrance. The screech of tires met her as she opened the door. Dolan's truck fishtailed as he gassed it.

Gone
, whispered through her mind. She swallowed hard, fighting back emotion clawing at her throat.

Who was she kidding? Like Zach said, it was just a matter of time. A leopard didn't change it spots. Dolan was a steadfast bachelor. He lived in the fast line. She couldn't keep up with him. Besides there was much more at stake here—her career and Sheldon.

Swallowing hard, she struggled to pull herself together. Wiping angrily at tears, she took one more look down the road, and then she walked back to the building.

Inside, she tried to remember what she'd been doing before her world spun out of control. “Gauze pads,” she said aloud. She had used the last one on her most recent client, a curious cat with a two-inch laceration on its head. Hopefully, he had learned that there were some places that didn't need to be explored. She'd have to remember that in the future.

Dolan slammed his hand on the steering wheel. He still hadn't come to grips with catching Tracy in Zach's arms. His pain had turned to anger. For some damn reason he felt betrayed. Yeah. It was true that she had never promised herself to him. She hadn't even committed to moving in with him. The last week had been hell wondering what she was doing. Now he knew.

"Dumbshit,” he chastised. Here he was opening his home and more importantly his heart to her, while she was finding other entertainment. Damn it to hell. How could he have been so wrong about her?

Bring. Bring
. He glanced down at his cell phone. He was in no mood to talk to anyone. The insistent ringing made him extract the telephone from his belt and look at the caller ID. Cord's name flashed in green letters. He flipped the cover open and pressed it to his ear.

"It's time,” his cousin said with eagerness in his voice. “How close are you?"

Dolan looked around in a daze. He had left the office in a blinding rage, having no idea where he was going, only that he had to get away. Culver's ranch appeared in the distance and he knew immediately where he was. “About ten minutes. Has her water broke?” Just his luck that Taylor Tweeds, Cait's mare, took this moment to foal.

"Not yet,” Cord answered just as Cait squealed in the background. “Let me take that back. Better hurry."

Dolan gassed it. Looking both ways before he proceeded, he didn't hesitate at the four way stop he encountered. Neither did he slow down until he pulled to a stop in front of Cord's stables.

Grabbing his medical bag, he wasted no time getting out of the truck and making haste. As he entered the dim building, the black mare was lying on her side. Her stomach clenched. Her wrapped tail arched as she groaned and pushed. A smooth sac protruded between the mare's vulva. Another push and the foal's front hooves appeared, one slightly ahead of the other.

"Thank God, you're here.” Excitement and fear were written across Cait's taut face.

Cord draped his arm around her shoulder. “Honey, everything will be just fine.” But even his expression looked brittle.

"Yes. But—” She swallowed hard, tears in her voice. Taylor Tweeds had lost her first colt. The mare had come into labor too early. It was only normal that Cait would be apprehensive.

Dolan forced a smile. “She'll be fine.” He continued to watch the mare for any signs of distress. Finding none, he said, “She looks good."

Cait whimpered when the horse groaned in pain. “Are you going to help her?"

"It's best if these things happen naturally. Let's just watch,
quietly
.” She took Dolan's suggestion, holding tightly onto her husband.

Several minutes passed. Another contraction and the foal's legs pushed out around the knees. If there would be any problems they would usually happened around this point in the process. The nose and head should follow shortly.

Dolan waited.

The next contraction resulted without any progress. The mare's stomach heaved again—no signs of the foal's head.

He was a breath away from intervening when the mare struggled to stand, her legs shaking like rubber beneath her. The foal slid back into the mare's womb.

Cait gasped.

Surely she knew that this was normal. “Standing is the body's way of repositioning the foal, Cait,” he whispered in an attempt to calm her.

Taylor Tweeds groaned, pushing to stumble back to the floor of straw.

"Cord?” Cait grabbed her husband's arm.

"Shhh, baby."

Another push and the foal's nose and head appeared. Dolan breathed a sigh of relief.

"Oh,” Cait cried softly, turning in Cord's arms and hugging him.

After the head and shoulders were delivered the mare rested. Her body quivered.

"There, girl,” Dolan spoke softly as he entered the clean stall lined with dry, fresh straw. He picked up a towel from a stack nearby and approached. Kneeling, he towel dried the foal's head, ensuring his nostrils and throats were clear. It was another ten minutes before the foal's rear feet appeared.

"Filly,” he said.

"Yes,” Cait hissed. “Are both okay?"

"Looking good."

While mother and foal rested, he got to his feet and stepped away. It was at this point that the mare transferred a large, vital amount of blood to the foal. Opening his bag he extracted his stethoscope, a large syringe filled with a mixture of Nolvasan, and a few more items he would need to examine the foal.

Cord shot Dolan a concerned look, but didn't speak until Cait walked toward the mare and filly. “Everything really okay?” he whispered.

"They're fine. Need to check the foal out more thoroughly, but they look good to me."

"How ‘bout you?"

"Me?” Other than his broken heart he was fuckin’ great.

"Yeah you? Tracy?” His cousin struck a chord when he said her name.

Visions of her kissing Zach popped in his head. Had she been with the sonofabitch every night he was gone? Jealousy followed pain with anger short on its heels. He just shook his head in disbelief.

"What happened?"

By the time he finished sharing all the ugly details with Cord, Taylor Tweeds had made it to her feet, breaking the umbilical cord. Her legs appeared steady as she nosed her new babe.

Dolan approached the foal that had yet to get to her feet. He eased the solution in the syringe into a small glass and set it aside as he began to examine the filly.

"Could you have misread what you saw?” Cait interrupted his thoughts as he checked the foal's eyes for pupil response.

So she had been listening.

Placing the ear tips of the stethoscope in his ears, he pressed the chest piece to the foal's damp skin and listened. “Strong heart sound and rate.” Repositioning the stethoscope, he remained quiet for several seconds. “Clear lungs.” When he was prepared to check the foal's mouth and leg conformation Cait spoke again.

"You know how much Zach hates you. Besides you'd have to be blind not to see Tracy is crazy about you."

"Yeah right.” What did Cait know?

Retrieving the glass, he held it over the filly's umbilicus and then shook the container so that the entire stump was well coated. “I'll leave you with a handful of these syringes. You should repeat this process two or three times a day for the first forty-eight hours."

"Dolan, don't be stubborn and miss out on someone like Tracy. I mean even if she—” Cait grew quiet, quickly turning towards the foal. “So is this little baby the cutest thing you've ever seen?"

Dolan and Cord shared a knowing glance. Cait was hiding something.

"Spill it?” Dolan demanded, closing in on her.

Cait looked askew rubbing her palms on her jeans. “Are you talking to me?” Too much innocence in her voice was a dead giveaway.

"You know damn well he's talking to you.” Cord had his back. “If you know something, tell him."

"It's not my place,” she insisted.

Both of them nailed her with a steely glare.

She rolled her eyes. “Okay.” Releasing a heavy sigh, she planted her palms on her slender hips. “Tracy has a child."

"What?” Dolan and Cord said in unison. Taylor Tweeds snorted her displeasure with their raised voices.

"Actually it's her nephew,” she clarified in a whisper.

Dolan's heartbeat eased some.

"Her sister was killed in a horse accident. Tracy's the boy's guardian. For all purposes she's his mother now.” Cautiously she watched Dolan.

"She never mentioned—I mean.” He paused. Tracy had a child.

"Did you ever give her an opportunity?” Cait asked. “Sometimes you two are more interested in physical activities. Talking takes the backseat with you boys."

"Ah, honey.” Cord reached for her.

She dodged his grasp, but Dolan saw the amusement in her eyes. “Don't, ‘Ah, honey’ me. It's true."

"It's just that you are so fucking sexy. I can't keep my hands off of you,” Cord confessed with laughter in his tone.

Dolan could have kicked himself. Tracy had tried to talk to him the last time they were together, but he had been more interested in physical activities as Cait put it so delicately. Had this been what Tracy had wanted to talk about or had it something to do with Zach?

"Do you love her?"

"What?” he turned his attention back to Cait.

"I said, ‘Do you love her?’”

Did he? Of course he did. “The night we all had dinner together I asked her to move in with me."

Cord choked. Cait slapped her husband hard on the back.

"That's before I found her in Zach's arms.” The thought made the knot in Dolan's gut twist.

"Did you let her explain?” Cait asked condescendingly. “Or did you stomp out of the room leaving her to fight off that bastard alone?"

Holy shit. Had he left her unprotected? Had Zach taken advantage of her? The fire in his blood roared to life again. He'd kill the sonofabitch.

"Soooo.” Cait held on to the last letter. “You condemned her without knowing all the facts. Hung her without a trial."

Cord pulled her into his arms. “I think you got your point across, dear."

Yep. She did that quite well.

"I guess the only other question is, does it matter that she has a child?” Cait had a way of cutting through the chase and getting straight to the point.

He didn't even have to think twice. The answer was no. He wanted Tracy. If she came with a child then Dolan would welcome the boy into their lives.

"What do I do now?” The lost voice he heard didn't sound like his own, which proved he had it bad for Tracy.

"Grovel? Apologize? Beg?” Cait suggested with a gleam in her eyes. “Now finish checking my mare and filly and get the hell out of here."

This love thing could really hurt a man's pride. Yet when he looked at Cord gazing upon Cait with so much love, Dolan knew it was worth it.

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Tracy needed to get out of town to reevaluate the situation. She finished washing her hands and dried them off. For two hours she had tried to get Dolan off her mind, but it did no good. The more she thought of him, the more depressed and angrier she got. He hadn't even given her a chance to explain how she wound up in Zach's arms.

As she walked out of the examination room, she recalled the fury in Dolan's eyes—eyes turned accusingly on her.

How dare he.

She swatted at the lock of hair that fell before her eyes, boots clicking against the title floor as she entered the empty waiting room. The light scent of antiseptic was present. Florence, the middle-aged receptionist, stopped typing and looked up as she passed by.

"I'll be in Dr. Zimmerman's office if you need me,” Tracy threw over a shoulder.

"Yes, Dr. Marx.” The click of Florence's long nails on the keyboard followed.

With each step through the sterile hallway Tracy's footsteps grew heavier. She was running away, going back to the only place she had ever felt safe—home.

Stopping before the door that sported Dr. Zimmerman's name plate, she raised her hand and then hesitated.

Dammit. This was unprofessional and immature.

"Shake it off,” she chastised as her arm lowered to her side. “Just start anew."

Which meant exactly what?

Whatever it was, she had to deal with it. This was her career. She stood a little taller. So what if she'd screwed up? She could make it right. It wasn't too late to put Dr. Crane out of her mind and focus on what was important, her career and Sheldon.

She was about to leave when the door jerked open, startling her. Zach's face was still flushed, cheeks red. He glared at her, not even attempting to camouflage his animosity.

"Move aside, boy, and let her in,” Dr. Zimmerman demanded. She peered over Zach's shoulder and his father waved her in.

His son eased to the side, but not very quickly, each step a show of pain across his face. Pride squeezed her chest, knowing she had contributed to his discomfort. Her only disappointment was that she hadn't incapacitated the sonofabitch completely.