Callie Endicott - The Rancher's Prospect

Poor kid. She’d cried on his shoulder and asked what was wrong with her...following the question with a passionate kiss. Carl had declined the overture and made sure she got home safely. He doubted she remembered much about the evening and would rather keep it that way.

Karen gestured to the door on her left. “Go ahead. Room ten.”

Carl spotted Lauren at a computer station as he turned the corner. She was entering information, only looking up when a patient approached her with a question. As she talked to the man and his child, her face lit with the smile that had drawn Carl from the first time they’d met.

Smiling himself, he stepped into her office.

He’d liked Lauren from their initial meeting at the Hawkins wedding and had been pleased when she decided to move to Schuyler. As the story went, a few days after the wedding she’d called the clinic to see if a job was available. A month later she was living in Schuyler. It was easy to imagine how delighted the clinic had been to hire a PA who didn’t have to be convinced that moving to a remote town, two hours from a commercial airport, wasn’t a fate worse than death.

Of course, that didn’t mean she hadn’t changed her mind once she’d arrived and faced the prospect of a long Montana winter. Could that be part of the reason she’d started putting him off...uncertainty she wanted to stay, after all?

Carl was annoyed at himself for making excuses for her refusals; he didn’t suffer from a lack of confidence, but Lauren’s absence of enthusiasm had tweaked his ego, especially since his instincts said that she liked him.

Restless, he got to his feet again. The office suited Lauren—well organized with personal touches that made it inviting without being unprofessional. On the bookshelves were a few photos of an older man and woman—presumably her adoptive parents—along with one that appeared to be a selfie of her and Tara Livingston in Paris, the Eiffel Tower behind them.

Just then the door opened behind him, and he turned around. It was Lauren.

“Hi, Carl,” she said as she came into the room. “Karen mentioned you needed to see me. Is there a problem?”

“Not at all. I was driving past and wanted to touch base with you about tomorrow evening. We’ve tried some places here, so how about going to Windy Bluffs for dinner? There’s a steak house, an Italian place, Mexican and Chinese. The Chinese place isn’t as good as it could be, but it’s edible. Does one of them sound okay to you?”

“All of them, I guess.”

“Do you have a favorite?”

“Uh...usually Chinese,” she told him, looking nervous. “But if it isn’t that good, maybe it would be best to go elsewhere. How about the...um, Mexican restaurant?”

“Fabulous,” he answered, pleased. Deep inside he’d wondered if she would say she didn’t want to go out with him again after all. “Maybe after dinner we could see a movie, or perhaps take a walk along the river.”

“Either would be nice. The trail beside the water is pretty, though I’m uncomfortable going there alone.”

“It isn’t a good idea to go into isolated areas by yourself,” Carl agreed. “Let’s see what appeals once we finish dinner. Okay?”

“Sure.”

“I won’t keep you—I know how busy this place is. How about tomorrow at five?”

“Sure.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Carl walked out, refraining from whistling. She hadn’t canceled and seemed to be okay with his suggestions for the following evening.

Eating in Windy Bluffs had been his top choice, since he preferred going someplace where fewer people knew them. He had yet to eat a meal out in Schuyler without townspeople stopping to chat. As a rule he welcomed it, since law enforcement in a small community was partly about building relationships. But it had made his first dates with Lauren awkward to have so many interruptions.

Carl let loose a whistle as he climbed into his cruiser. Life in Schuyler was good.

* * *

LAUREN’S HAND SHOOK as she picked up the chart for her last patient of the day. When Carl had asked what restaurant she preferred, she’d forced herself to say something definite as a preference. She’d read that men usually wanted women to be clear about their choices.

After dealing with Mrs. Whittier’s “sore” ear—the elderly widow mostly came to the clinic for company—Lauren walked to the Roundup Café to meet Tara for supper.

“Hi,” she greeted her twin. “How was your day?”

Tara smiled, an impish expression on her face. “I had a very interesting afternoon. Walt Nelson hired me to work in his ranch office, and Josh McGregor did his best to end the job before it began.”

“He fired you?” Lauren asked, dismayed. She’d be sick if someone did that to her, but Tara didn’t seem disturbed in the least.

“Nope,” her sister answered cheerfully. “He asked me to quit. I refused and we argued like seven-year-olds grabbing for the same ice cream cone.”

Lauren was amazed her sister could be so nonchalant. She wished she could be equally at ease with confrontation, but she’d learned at a young age how destructive arguments could be. Her adoptive parents had loved her, but they’d also hoped having a second child would heal their marital woes.

She’d been six when they’d taken her in. Her new mother had dressed her in pretty clothing, and her new daddy had proudly introduced her as his daughter. But they hadn’t stopped arguing, and her new family had always appeared to be crumbling. Then when she was in high school, it fell apart completely.

She had responded by avoiding any sort of conflict. Her brother had responded to their parents’ disastrous marriage by becoming a philandering jerk. It was always painful to think about him.

“Do you...er, think Josh is really opposed to you working there?” she asked, trying to push away her memories and the nausea they inspired. Mostly she didn’t like that aspect of the person she’d become, startled by her own shadow and wanting to jump in a rabbit hole whenever someone raised their voice.

“Oh, yes,” Tara said, “he definitely doesn’t want me there.”

“Won’t it be difficult to work for Mr. Nelson if Josh is upset about it?”

“Not for me. I’m going to talk with Walt again to establish guidelines. If he has any concerns, we’ll iron them out then. As for any issues Josh might have, that’s his problem.”

Lauren tried to relax and adopt her sister’s offhand attitude. It hurt to think they could have grown up together, and she had an idea that she might feel stronger if she’d had an ally all those years ago. She’d certainly taken enough psychology classes to see how it could have made a difference.

Silly. That wasn’t the way it had happened, and there wasn’t any point to thinking about the might-have-beens. At least she’d had a family, however troubled, and her parents loved her, regardless of how their marriage had ended. Tara didn’t have anyone and had never had a real home. Maybe that was why she didn’t worry about where she lived and always seemed to be looking at what was over the horizon.

It was odd, the way things had turned out.

* * *

THE NEXT AFTERNOON Lauren’s nerves were tighter than ever. She wanted to ask Tara to come over while she got ready for dinner, except it would have meant revealing her tension over going out with Carl Stanfield.

The phone rang, and she jumped. She grabbed the handset, disgusted with herself for hoping it was Carl, regretfully canceling their evening. “Hello.”

“Hey, Lauren,” Emily said. “What are you wearing for the big date?”

“It isn’t a big date,” Lauren corrected automatically. “We’re just going out to dinner. That is, we’ve already gone out a number of times, so it isn’t something to get carried away about.”