Hope Navarre - A Ranch for His Family

“Hey, my handwriting isn’t that bad. Is it?”

“For a doctor or for a preschooler?”

“Ouch! I don’t think I deserved that.”

“Maybe not,” she conceded.

He stopped beside the nursing station and faced her. His expression grew serious. “My handwriting may be bad, but my eyesight’s not. I know a good nurse when I see one.”

Surprised, she said, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Have you ever thought about going on with your training, maybe into advanced practice, like a family-medicine nurse practitioner?”

“Sure, someday I’d love to, but I can’t afford to go back to school anytime soon.”

The additional years of education to become a family-medicine nurse practitioner would allow her to diagnose and treat patients without the constant supervision of a physician. She would be able to perform prenatal, well-child, and adult checkups, even diagnose and manage minor traumas like suturing cuts and splinting broken bones, things she wasn’t allowed by law to do as a registered nurse. Her ability to make treatment decisions, order tests and write prescriptions would free up the physicians to concentrate on more complex diseases and conditions. An NP would be a welcome asset to a rural hospital already struggling with a shortage of doctors, but education costs money.

“Didn’t you get the application for the NP scholarships I gave to the nursing supervisor?”

“You did that?” she asked in amazement. She’d only worked with him for a few short months.

“Yes. Did you fill it out?”

She hadn’t, but she hadn’t thrown it away, either. It lay in the top drawer of her desk, tempting her with its possibilities, even though she knew she couldn’t send it. Not now, not with her family losing the ranch.

Now more than ever, they’d need a steady income until the ranch sold, and who knew how long that would take? But she wasn’t about to discuss her financial problems with him. “I like what I’m doing, and I’m needed here.”

“Think about it. You have a gift for medicine, and I’d hate to see it go to waste.”

“Thank you, but I hardly think my talent is going to waste here. You needed me today.”

He flipped open the chart. “Indeed I did. I’ll just scribble a few illegible orders here.”

She grinned. “Sorry about the handwriting crack.”

“You can make it up to me.”

“And how would I do that?”

He closed the chart and smiled at her. “Have dinner with me tonight.”

His request caught her totally off guard. Quickly, she glanced around to see who might have overheard his offer, but the nursing station was deserted. She stared at his friendly, handsome face and blurted out, “I don’t know what to say.”

His bright blue eyes sparkled with amusement. “How about, ‘Yes, Adam, I’d love to have dinner with you. I thought you would never ask.’”

She clasped her arms across her middle and stared at the floor. “I can’t.”

“Tomorrow night?” he asked hopefully.

“I don’t think it would be a good idea. I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m the one who’s sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

He was silent a long moment. When she glanced at him, his kind smile made her regret her hasty decision. “You didn’t upset me. You just surprised me.”

“You realize you are condemning me to another night of cafeteria food, don’t you?”

Her smile returned. “If that is a bid for sympathy, you’ll have to do better. The food here is excellent.”

He chuckled and put the chart back into the wire rack. “Yes, it is. The coconut-cream pie is the main reason I moonlight here. So why won’t you have dinner with me? Do you avoid doctors in general, or are you involved with someone?”

“I don’t think it would be a good idea since we have to work together. It might create a problem.”

“I see. I thought maybe you and your bull rider were trying to work things out.”

“Neal?” she asked in surprise. “What gave you that idea?”

“I saw your face when they brought him in. I’d say there are still some pretty strong feelings on your part.”

“Well, you would be wrong. That was over a long time ago,” she snapped. She refused to accept there was anything left of her former feelings for Neal except the remnants of an adolescent fantasy.

Adam held up both hands. “Whoa. I’m sorry I said anything.”

Her protest had been too sharp. She forced a smile to her stiff lips. “You need to understand that his mother and mine are best friends. They’ve been our neighbors all my life. I can’t tell you how often I’ve heard the phrase, ‘You and Neal should get back together.’ It’s kind of a sore subject with me.”

He nodded solemnly. “Gabriella Prichard.”

She frowned. “Who?”

“Gabriella Prichard. That’s the woman my mother wants me to marry. I call her Crabby Gabby. Not to her face, of course. She feels the same about me. Our mothers are the best of friends. They throw us together at every opportunity. Neither of them will accept the idea that Gabby and I aren’t right for each other.”

Robyn had to laugh at his glum expression. “I know how hard that can be.”

He brightened and flashed an impish grin. “It seems you and I have quite a bit in common.”

“Maybe,” she admitted cautiously.

“If you won’t go out with me because we work together, I can always stop working here. Say the word.”

“That’s blackmail. You know we need you.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Yes, but is it effective blackmail?”

“Maybe,” she admitted. It had been a long time since a man had showed interest in her as a woman. It gave her ego a much-needed boost. She didn’t believe for a minute that it was anything more than Adam’s boredom at being stuck in a small town. So what would it hurt to go out and have a little fun? Besides, it might take her mind off a certain irritating cowboy.

“I’ll think about it,” she conceded.

* * *

NEAL STEPPED OUT of the car as soon as his mother pulled to a stop in the drive, but he made no move toward the house. Restlessness rippled through him. He didn’t want to go inside. He’d spent too much time indoors. He was going stir-crazy.

“Are you coming?” his mother asked, heading to the front door.

“I think I’ll take a walk down to the barns.”

She nodded and disappeared inside the house.

She was probably glad to get him out from underfoot. He hadn’t been the best of company. He had managed to apologize for upsetting her on the way home, but she was still dead set against his returning to the rodeo.

After crossing the ranch yard to the first of two large red barns, he stepped into the welcoming dimness. The smell of animals, hay and oiled leather mingled with the faint scent of dust. He smiled. Now he really felt like he was home. He and his brother, Jake, had practically lived in the barns.

Together, they had raised and trained some pretty good cow ponies. While Neal had drifted away to the rodeo, Jake had continued breeding quarter horses and training them for roping and cutting. His nearby ranch, the Flying JB, was renowned for producing quality stock horses.

Down the wide front aisle of the barn, four horses looked over their stalls and whinnied. Neal’s mother maintained an expansive cattle ranch with the help of a few hired men. Like nearly all Flint Hills ranchers, she still used horses to work cattle. ATVs were useful, but they couldn’t learn to read which way a calf was going to break from the herd the way a good cow pony could.

Neal stopped at the first stall. He drew a hand down the horse’s silky neck. “Think I came in here to feed you? No such luck, honey. You must be one of Jake’s.”