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Bittersweet moments clogged his throat, and he didn’t have a clue why that tended to happen much more often when back home. He didn’t like it—those deep feelings, the kind that ripped at a person’s heart. Maybe that was why he preferred his hundred-mile buffer zone, living out in Laramie half the time and in Baltimore the other, except whenever he was on the road, which seemed to be close to 80 percent of the time lately.
He took another drink of champagne. Staying put for two months in the house he’d grown up in, seeing the continuing disappointment and blame in his father’s milky, aging eyes, and sensing the lingering love from his mother would prove to be a challenge. How long before he and his father finally had it out?
The old man’s health was failing; he grew weaker by the year yet still insisted on running the ranch. Cole couldn’t very well blast him with accusations and force an apology, could he? Damn, he needed more champagne.
When everyone else was joining in with the celebration, laughing, cheering, making a racket, Cole slipped a little farther back from the crowd. Julie prepared to toss the bouquet, and once she turned her back and threw the flowers over her head, the dozen or so ladies in the group started to squeal. The young blonde from the medical clinic, Rita the receptionist, caught it and screamed with delight. Her glittering eyes flitted toward his, and he quickly looked away, deciding now was the perfect time to refill his glass with bubbly.
Briefly, while on his quest for the server, he engaged Jack, the ranch foreman, in conversation. He felt him out as to how the family business was holding up, assuring Jack he’d be as helpful as possible in Trevor’s absence. In fact, Cole looked forward to getting on a horse again. The rodeo had been his passion in life throughout his childhood and early teens. He’d made a name for himself on the junior circuit, riding bucking broncos, until…
“Incoming!” he heard Jack say.
Cole looked up in time to reach up and pluck a shiny white lace garter out of the air, rather than let it hit him in the face. What the—? He glanced up at his brother’s mischievous dark stare, a smile stretched from ear to ear. Was that a challenge?
“You’re next, Cole,” Trevor said, laughing, knowing full well the absurdity of the remark.
Playing along, only to be polite, Cole mock kissed the garter, then stuck it in his handkerchief pocket. “I’ll keep you posted, Trev, but don’t hold your breath.” He made a shrewd effort to avoid Rita’s coy gaze at all costs.
He got his refill of champagne and finished it with three large gulps, enjoying the floating-in-water feeling in his head.
When he was a kid, he used to think the sky in Wyoming was the limit, and anything was possible on any given day. Wasn’t that why they’d called him Wonder Boy? These days, not so much. Still smiling, since everyone seemed to continue to stare at him, he hoisted yet another glass in another toast. “Cheers!” he said as expected, waggling his brows, as any lucky guy who’d just caught the garter on a glorious wedding day should. Then he took one more drink of champagne, letting that pleasant buffer of booze make everything fuzzy around the edges, and followed the crowd outside for the reception and lunch.
Tomorrow he’d saddle up and ride the range with Jack. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d ridden the entire Circle M Ranch or seen the thousands of head of pure English-bred steer roaming the grasslands, and, being honest, he’d missed it. Of course, he’d need a refresher course on the challenges of raising grass-finished cattle for meat. His father’s specialty. Genetics was the key, his old man had always said, and, being a scientist, Cole could easily wrap his brain around that. But all the finer details of animal husbandry he’d leave to Jack.
As for right now, he couldn’t very well zone out on the rest of his brother’s wedding party, so he stood, straightened his tie and headed toward Trevor’s table to tell him not to worry about a thing while he was on his honeymoon. His mother would want it that way.
“Just the man I need to talk to,” Trevor said, eyes brightening as Cole approached his table.
“I thought you’d already told me everything I need to know.” Cole had a sudden sinking feeling.
“I lined up some extra help for you at the clinic while I’m gone.”
Cole wasn’t about to complain about that. “Thanks. Someone from Cattleman Bluff?”
“Boston.”
“What?”
“It’s a complicated story, but, medically speaking, the doctor is qualified. Lawrence Rivers highly recommended her.”
Larry Rivers was a respected professor who’d mentored Trevor during medical school, and he’d become a trusted colleague for Cole when he’d made the decision to learn transcatheter heart-valve replacement. “But?” Cole’s instincts waved yellow flags, waiting for Trevor to come clean with the rest of the story.
“The problem is, she only applied for internal medicine residencies at the top five most competitive hospitals in the country, so she didn’t get a single spot.”
“She’s fresh out of medical school? And that’s supposed to be a help, how?”
“You know Larry wouldn’t recommend her if he didn’t believe in her.”
“Believing in and actually being competent are two different things.” Ah, hell, Cole didn’t want to get in an argument with his brother at his wedding. Mom wouldn’t like that. He’d back off for now.
“She might be a little rough around the edges.”
Are you kidding me? “You’re joking, right? Is this some sort of weird wedding joke?”
“Larry said she’s a tough Boston girl, from the wrong side of the Charles River. She can handle anything.”
“So Larry’s playing both of us, right?”
Trevor bit his lower lip and grimaced. “She needed a job. I said she could have it. You’ll need help at that clinic, trust me.”
“And I want all the help I can get, but—”
“Come on, Trevor,” Julie said, a huge smile on her face, a warning gaze in her eyes. “It’s time to change clothes for the send-off. The limo is going to be here in twenty minutes.”
Trevor lifted his brows, cast a quick glance at Cole, then put his arm around his new wife.
“What’s this doctor’s name?”
“Elisabete Silva.”
Great, he’d be working with a wet-behind-the-ears doctor who probably thought she knew it all. Didn’t he think the same thing when he’d first graduated from medical school?
Trevor was the most conscientious man Cole knew, and wouldn’t set him up for failure. Instead of acting like his father, blowing a gasket before getting the whole story, he’d take his mother’s approach. He’d reserve his opinion until he’d met the new doctor at the clinic himself, but he suddenly had a kink in his gut that had nothing to do with the baked chicken served at the wedding-reception dinner.
Trevor started to walk off with Julie, but turned back. “Oh, one more thing. The doctor will be living here at the ranch. Dad said it’s okay.”
What in the hell was going on?
Trev looked as if he wanted to say something else, but Julie snagged him firmly by the elbow and led him off. Cole stood and watched as they headed off to change clothes while those waving yellow flags in his head started turning red.
Ten minutes after tossing rice and grinning along with everyone else, then watching the new couple drive off in the fully decorated “Just Married” limo, Cole saw a town car heading up the long road. The Circle M Ranch wasn’t exactly on the main highway—anyone coming out this way generally had a reason.
He looked on with interest from the yard as the car came to a stop in front of the house and Jack, his father’s ranch foreman, along with the family cook, Gretchen, rushed toward it.
“Cole, come and dance with me.” Rita, the attractive blonde medical-clinic receptionist, linked her arm through his, her still-lingering potent perfume overpowering his nostrils. “It’s tradition for the bouquet and garter catchers to have a dance together.”
First he’d ever heard of that tradition. Cole didn’t want to come off as impolite at his brother’s wedding reception—his mother would be disappointed—especially since he’d be working with Rita all summer, so he let her lead him to the dance floor, losing sight of the limousine and the house as he did.
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_7c6d4da1-8886-57c3-bc51-fe137ef81456)
THE LAST OF the wedding guests had finally left. It was getting dark, and Cole had handed the mantle to the lead of the cleanup crew. He’d done his brotherly duty for Trevor’s wedding, and looked forward to getting out of his suit and unwinding with a good novel before calling it a night.
He wandered toward the porch and the front door. Gretchen, the family cook, met him with an anxious look.
“Hello, Cole,” she said, trying to sound calm but not coming close.
“Hi. What’s up?” He remembered the limousine from earlier. “We have company?”
“Uh, yes.” She wouldn’t look him in the eyes.
“Is something wrong?” He stopped and waited for Gretchen to look up.
“Uh. No. I was just a little surprised, that’s all.” Still not looking at him, she turned toward the screen door.
“Surprised? About what?”
Tiberius appeared on the other side of the screen. “That she has a baby, that’s what.”
“Who has a baby?” His feet stuck to the porch floorboards.
“The doctor Trevor hired,” his father said with a lopsided grin.
“A baby?” What was going on? The new doctor was here already?
“You know, the little tykes in diapers, a baby.” His dad seemed to take great joy in rubbing in the news, though he looked tired beyond his years just then. It’d been a long few days preparing for the wedding; Cole would cut him some slack. “They cry a lot and need undivided attention?”
Cole sped up the last few steps to the front door, pulling out his cell phone on the way, ready to speed-dial his brother. “Trevor didn’t mention that.” In all honesty, Trevor hadn’t had the chance.
“Of course not, because you would have thrown a fit if he did,” Dad said, not splitting hairs, holding the door open for Gretchen and him to go inside.
“That’s not necessarily true. But it would have been nice to know.”
Before he could press dial, a tall and slender, dark-haired woman with vivid green eyes and ivory skin appeared in the entryway. She’d come from the east wing where she must have left her baggage, and had some sort of swaddling sling across her torso with a good-sized bulge buried inside.
“Hello,” she said, a natural rasp in her lower-than-usual female voice. “I’m Elisabete, but everybody calls me Lizzie.”
Out of the blue, Cole wondered how her laugh would sound. He guessed smoky and…
She reached out a thin hand with long delicate fingers, and, instead of dialing Trevor to curse him out, Cole pocketed the phone, took her hand and shook. Warmth emanated from both her grip and her wide gaze, which was truly stunning, and stole some of his thunder.
“I’m Cole. Nice to meet you. I’m a bit surprised by your… er… bundle there.” He nodded to the lump dangling snuggly from her middle.
She gave a fatigued smile and glanced down beneath fuller-than-usual dark brows at her baby. “My little Flora screamed the entire flight from Boston. I think she’s worn herself out. At one point I thought the flight attendant wanted to shove me out the door.” She lifted her gaze, tension dwelling in those lovely, though bewildered, eyes even as she tried to make light of her situation. “I’ll carry my load at the clinic, Dr. Montgomery. I promise.”
Had she read his mind? Only then did he think to let go of the comfort of her hand. Those deeply inquisitive eyes studied him, obviously hunting for a sign of his humanity.
“With an infant that will be a huge challenge. Are you sure you can handle the job?”
“I don’t know how much Dr. Rivers told you—”
“Dr. Rivers spoke to my brother, who left for his honeymoon today. I don’t have a clue if Trevor knew about the bambino part or not.” So much for his humanity.
“I’ve made some tea—why doesn’t everyone sit down and I’ll bring it?” Gretchen said, having never been able to handle tension, even though, having worked for years for the Montgomery family, she should have gotten used to it by now.
“Yes, why don’t we?” Tiberius said, an amused smirk on his face. He led the way to the living room.
Cole gestured for Lizzie to follow, noting her jeans-clad long legs, narrow hips and flip-flop-covered feet, thinking how impractical the footwear was for a ranch. But there was something else he noticed beyond her travel-weary appearance, and besides the single long, thick braid down her back: it was the confidence with which she walked. The way she held her head high even under his less-than-gracious welcome. This one was a fighter. Maybe she had to be.
“What kind of name is Silva?” Tiberius asked just before he sat in his favorite overstuffed chair.
“It’s Portuguese.”
Cole wasn’t exactly sure what he’d signed on for taking over his brother’s practice, but, with the arrival of Lizzie sporting a baby, that task had suddenly gotten a hell of a lot more challenging.
While Gretchen served tea in the living room, Cole asked Lizzie about medical school, but got distracted with the dozens of other questions flying through his head.
“And after spending a month in the emergency department, I knew for a fact I didn’t have what it takes to work under that kind of pressure. That place made me wicked crazy,” she said without seeming to take a breath. “Internal medicine seemed the right fit for me. It’s kind of like taking a good mystery—the patient’s symptoms—and step-by-step solving the case by diagnosing and treating them properly. Makes me feel like a medical sleuth, kind of like that TV show, House, you know? So I’m really looking forward to working in your clinic, Dr. Montgomery.”
Just what he needed, his own House. Didn’t she understand that guy would have lost his medical license a hundred different times because of his antics? Cole definitely had his work cut out for him training a new, dreamy-eyed doctor.
Plus, she spoke rapid-fire, with a thick Bostonian accent, and to be honest he often had trouble following her. Depahtmint. Pressha. Lookin’ farwid. But it was kind of amusing at the same time. He suppressed a smile as she talked on and on, probably nervous and wanting to make a good first impression. Meanwhile, he grasped for ways to make this situation work. New doctor. New mother. New clinic. And he’d thought he was out of his depth taking over the clinic before!
For a new mother, she certainly seemed to have a lot of energy, or maybe she was just a hyper type. He hoped she wouldn’t talk his ear off all the time because that would get old fast. Gee, thanks for sticking me with your sight-unseen doctor, Trev, old buddy.
She continued on with her story, and Cole hoped she’d get around to mentioning the baby, but she conveniently skipped over that part. Instead she talked about experiences in medicine and kept assuring him she’d carry her load at the clinic, then stopped midsentence when her eyes settled on Tiberius, who still had an amused smirk on his face.
“Is that how you always smile?” she asked bluntly.
Granted, it was an odd lopsided smile, but Cole figured it was typical of Dad to be a smart aleck over the mixed-up circumstances Cole had found himself in. Then he looked closer. She was right: something was off.
Lizzie popped up from the chair and walked straight to his father. “Smile again,” she said. “Hmm. Give me your hands. Squeeze.” She glanced over her shoulder at Cole, her full arched brows raised, then quickly back to Tiberius. “Are you feeling numbness or tingling on either side?” Tiberius looked confused. “Cole, he’s noticeably weaker on the right. Is this always the case?”
Cole jumped up and strode toward his father and Lizzie. “No.”
“Raise your arms for me, Mr. Montgomery.” The right arm went only half as high as the other. “Can you say ‘the sky is blue’?”
It came out slurred and jumbled. “Sy… boo.”
“I’ll call 911.” Cole dug for the phone in his pocket and made the call.
“He seemed to walk in here just fine, but then I noticed his droopy smile.” Lizzie went down on her knees to look Tiberius in the eyes. “Is your vision blurry?”
He made a tiny shake of his head.
“He needs thrombolytics ASAP. Time is brain,” she said, slipping into doctor mode, stating the obvious door-to-IV necessity for early treatment. “We’ve got a three-hour window.”
Cole filled in the emergency operator. “We need a stroke team ready to go,” he said when he’d finished. She assured him an ambulance would be on the way with estimated time of arrival twenty minutes. The nearest hospital was in Laramie. He did the math and knew time was of the essence if they wanted the best results with his father’s evolving stroke. Panic ripped through him at the thought of losing his dad. He went to him and squeezed his shoulder. “We’ll get the help you need, Dad.”
Tiberius glanced up, seeming a bit disoriented. Trevor’s wedding had taken more of a toll than Cole had realized.
“We should give him an aspirin right now,” Lizzie said.
“He’s already on daily aspirin.”
“Let’s give him another. Research shows the benefits outweigh the risk of causing bleeding in the brain.”
Cole also knew this was an ongoing debate among clinicians. Some researchers said early aspirin was beneficial, others said it could prove risky. The key was whether a clot or a burst vessel was the cause of his father’s stroke, and only a CT scan could prove that. Yet, the overemphasis of TPA, tissue plasminogen activator, as the only treatment could also cause bleeding in the brain. He wasn’t about to take up that debate now with Lizzie when his father was in the middle of a stroke.
“Out of…” Tiberius mumbled.
