Charlotte Maclay - Montana Daddy

He smiled. “Welcome to spring in Montana.”

“Spokane gets snow, too.”

“In April?”

“Well, not like this, I suppose.”

Eric called the half-dozen people in the room together before Rory could respond. “Let’s gather around, folks. I don’t want any of us to be out in this weather any longer than we need to be.”

They pulled some chairs together in a circle. Rory made sure he was sitting next to Kristi, their chairs nudging each other’s so there could be a chance brush of their thighs, denim to denim. A graze of his forearm across hers, sweater to sweater. She wasn’t married. Available, according to Doc Justine. What was the matter with the guys in Spokane? Why hadn’t one of them snapped her up by now? Not that he wasn’t grateful for a second chance.

Distracted by the sweet fragrance of Kristi’s apple-scented shampoo, Rory had trouble following Eric’s comments. The only emergency he felt was the strain against the fly of his jeans. It’d be damn embarrassing to pop the zipper just sitting here. He’d have to fake it, saying something about how they don’t make zippers like they used to. Nobody would believe him, though. They’d know damn well he still had the hots for Kristi. He always had.

Slowly he became aware the room had gone quiet. He looked around to find everyone staring at him.

“So what do you think?” Eric prodded.

“Um, about what?”

Eric made a vague gesture with his hands suggesting he knew Rory hadn’t been listening. “Are we going to have cattle getting into trouble in this storm?”

Rory straightened in his chair. “Not if the ranchers have been paying attention to the weather reports. They’ll bring the cows into their home pastures.” He glanced toward Pauline. “Some of them might still need your backhoe to get in to feed them but mostly I’d say they’ll be okay.”

Joe Moore said, “In my experience, it’s folks that do something stupid in a bad storm, not dumb animals.”

“Let’s hope everybody has enough sense to stay off the roads,” Eric commented. “I don’t have any urge to start digging folks out of snowbanks.”

“There’re a couple of families that live hand-to-mouth,” Joe said. “If the storm lasts too long they could be in trouble, and the phone lines will go down first thing.”

Reverend McDuffy spoke up. “I’ll get the cots out and ready in case we need to use the rec room as a shelter.”

“I can use my snowmobile to transport supplies or people if they need to get to the shelter,” Rory volunteered.

“Or if they’re injured,” Kristi added, “you can bring them to the clinic.”

Harold finally spoke up. “I’ve got a good supply of pharmaceuticals on hand for anybody who gets sick.”

“Right.” Eric nodded and glanced around the room. “I’ll keep that in mind. But let’s hope things don’t get that bad. Well, it looks like we have our ducks in a row. Unless anyone can think of something else, I think we’re done here. Thanks for coming tonight.”

Rory didn’t want to drag out the meeting any longer than necessary, and he stood when the rest of the group did.

“Can I walk you home?” he asked Kristi.

“I drove, thanks.”

“Oh, okay. You got chains?”

“Snow tires and four-wheel drive.” She made for the door. “I’ll be fine.”

“Maybe I should drive you. It was really coming down hard before the meeting.”

She nailed him with an annoyed look. “It’s all of two blocks back to the clinic, and I have driven in snow before, Rory. I’ll manage.”

He grimaced. “Right. You’ll be fine. I was just thinking how cold and wet I’m going to get walking back to my place. But that’s okay. I’m used to this kind of weather.”

Her blue eyes cut through him like lasers. “You’re trying to make me feel sorry for you, aren’t you?”

“No, not me.” He fought a grin. “Well, maybe a little.”

She threw up her hands in defeat. “Oh, all right. Come on. I’ll drive you home.”

“Want me to follow you, Kristi?” Eric asked. “The roads are a mess.”

She visibly clenched her teeth. “I think I can make it.”

“And you don’t need any protection from my brother?”

“Not in this lifetime,” she muttered, stalking toward the door.

Making a fist, Rory make a threatening gesture toward his brother. “Follow us at your own risk, White Eyes.”

Eric only laughed, and Rory hustled to catch up with Kristi.

The truck had the advantage of getting them out of the wind, but it was still icy cold. The seats crackled with it, and their breath fogged the inside of the windshield. The wipers struggled to clear the snow away, leaving frozen half circles on the glass.

“So do you work at a hospital in Spokane?” he asked as Kristi let the engine warm up.

“Actually, it’s a low-income clinic. We serve mostly itinerant workers. I see the patients first and handle routine problems like colds and flu or stitching up a cut. More serious injuries I refer to the doctor.”

“So you’re practically a doctor.”

She glanced at him, then shifted into gear. The headlights bounced off the curtain of falling snow as she eased forward. “The American Medical Association doesn’t see it that way.”

Behind them Rory noticed the headlights of Eric’s four-wheel-drive patrol cruiser snap on. There were some serious disadvantages to having brothers who tended to stick their noses into a man’s business. Not that Rory wouldn’t do the same, given a chance.

Leaving the parking lot, the rear end of Kristi’s truck slid sideways before the tires caught hold. She handled the skid with skill and followed the tracks left by Joe Moore’s vehicle when he’d preceded them out of the lot.

“How long before the plow comes by?” she asked.

“They concentrate on the Interstate. In a storm like this, it might be days before we see a county plow. Some of the locals usually get out their Jeeps with a scoop on the front to keep things moving here in town. Nobody bothers with the ranch roads.” Which is why his brother Walker hadn’t come into town for the emergency meeting. Too much chance of getting stuck.

“I’m glad I got Grandma home before all this mess started,” Kristi said.

So was Rory. He’d hate to think of Kristi out on the highway with this much snow falling. It would be too easy to go off the road or get stranded with no one to help her.

“Why don’t you pull in at your grandmother’s place? It’d be easier and I can walk across the street.”

“Your veterinary clinic is that close?”

“Yep. Only a couple of patients have gotten the two clinics mixed up though. I take their temperature, give ’em a rabies shot and send them home. Haven’t had any complaints.”

She sputtered a laugh. “That’s probably because none of them survived.”

Deep snow made the turn into the medical clinic drive a challenge, but Kristi made it just fine, parking near the front door. Rory admired her skill even as he wanted to linger in her company.

They both got out, and Kristi started up the steps to the porch.

“I’ll come in with you. Just to make sure the doc’s okay.” And maybe he’d talk Kristi into making a pot of hot chocolate. It was a perfect night for cuddling in front of a fire, listening to a little music. Making out.

“I haven’t been gone long. I’m sure she’s fine.”

Kristi opened the door, and Justine’s voice carried out to the porch.

“How long has he been unconscious?”

A woman responded over the sputter of static on the emergency radio set up in the clinic. Justine stood beside the radio, a crutch under one arm and the microphone in her hand.

As Rory listened to the conversation, he realized Doc Justine had a patient in trouble—Everett Durfee, who lived with his wife, Jane, in a remote cabin miles from town.