Cari Webb - The Rancher's Rescue

“That’s not on Zoe’s sketch,” Katie said.

“Neither are hand-washing stations, but we need two of those with running water and soap.” Minimizing health risks to the humans and the animals was essential to ensure the ranch didn’t spread disease. “Hand sanitizer isn’t enough.”

“It’s supposed to be a petting zoo with a large pen where animals wander around and guests pet them.” Katie unlatched the gate and swung the steel door open, her gaze trained on the hinges as if she didn’t trust Ethan’s craftsmanship. “Don’t you ever remember visiting one at the fair when we were little?”

No, he didn’t recall and Big E had had no time for fairs and frivolous games. And when Ethan was old enough to go to the fair alone, he’d been more interested in touching Sarah Ashley’s silky shoulder-length curls than petting miniature donkeys in the zoo. Ethan set his hands on his hips and stared at Katie. “You’re only getting a petting zoo if it’s safe and done right.”

“I don’t know what I want anymore.” Katie threw up her hands. “But we’ve got a website that promised the Zigler party of thirty arriving at the end of this month a real petting zoo.”

Tension knotted through Ethan’s shoulders as if he were carrying all the Zigler family’s overstuffed suitcases himself. He stretched his muscles, but the reminder of the Zigler family’s arrival in three weeks only made his shoulders spasm more. “They’ll have a petting zoo. An actual one. But without the Angora rabbit.”

“I never got a delivery cancellation notice for the rabbit.” Katie let the gate shut and eyed him. “There’s a picture of that rabbit on the guest ranch’s website. Has it already arrived? Can I see it?”

“Update the website to put the rabbit on medical leave.” Ethan carried his tools toward the work shed. “No, you can’t see it.”

“The website is locked down and I haven’t found the password yet.” Katie blocked him from opening the shed door. “Why can’t I see the rabbit?”

“Website photo or not, no one is petting the rabbit.” Ethan tried to nudge Katie out of his way.

She refused to budge, crossing her arms over her chest. “Because it carries a disease that can’t be washed off with soap and water?”

“Because it’s traumatized.” Ethan stabbed the shovel into the ground and leaned against the handle. “And stressed out.” Like him.

“That’s why you won’t let me see it?” Her twitching fingers stilled against her arms.

“Not you.” Ethan pointed at her Australian shepherd sprawled in the middle of the dirt path like the main attraction of the petting zoo. “Your sidekick.”

Noticing his regard, Hip wagged her tail, stirring the dirt into mini dust clouds.

“She’s gentle with all animals.” Katie tapped her leg, calling the dog to her, and placed her hand on Hip’s neck as if she needed to protect her.

“I know that,” Ethan said. “But Coconut doesn’t.”

“You’ve already named it?” Katie gaped at him as if he’d adopted a pet without the family’s permission. “Can’t we trade it in for another one that isn’t a stress case?”

“This isn’t like a pair of faulty pliers you return to Brewster’s.” These were live animals that needed proper shelters, beds and food. Ethan would ensure their safety before he left. “Coconut will settle in with time. Her stress should be temporary.” Otherwise they’ll have enough angora wool for new sweaters for the entire Blackwell family before Christmas.

“Speaking of stress, you’ve had six calls this afternoon from pet owners in town.” Katie bent down to pet Hip as if to assure herself the dog was fine.

Ethan released the shovel and looked at Katie. “Who’s calling here?”

Katie lifted her hands and began counting on her fingers. “Mrs. Hatfield. Her twelve-year-old cat, Sparky, is so lethargic he can’t make it into the litter box. Mr. Jacobson. His one-year-old German shepherd puppy ate brownies and his granddaughter’s socks, or so he thinks. The Kramer family says their chinchilla has strange spots on its—”

Ethan held up his hand and stopped her. “I meant why are they calling here?”

“They want your help.” Katie scowled at him as if that should’ve been obvious.

“I’m not licensed in this state.” He’d been trained in domestic animals and livestock and, later, specialized in equestrian rehabilitation.

“They don’t seem to care.” Hip rolled over onto her back, not seeming to care either. Katie rubbed the dog’s stomach until Hip’s leg scratched the air and her mouth opened in a toothy smile. “They want you over Dr. Terry, who, and I’m quoting here, ‘if he worked any slower, he’d have to speed up to stop.’”

“I didn’t tell anyone I was home,” Ethan said.

“You’re kidding, right?” Katie straightened and swiped a strand of hair off her face. The disbelief in her tone was as fiery as her red locks. “You walked into Brewster’s this morning, didn’t you?”

He rubbed the back of his hand over his mouth, wiping away the urge to curse. He didn’t need the reminder. His mind quickly recalled the image of Grace in her tissue box for an office, looking both sweet and tempting, capable and vulnerable. As if he could’ve opened his arms and she would’ve willingly stepped into his embrace. He scowled at that. In Grace’s embrace, he’d discovered an overwhelming inner peace. For one night, the emptiness inside him had receded.

But he understood the danger of wanting to be with Grace. Understood the threat Grace posed to his equilibrium. Becoming used to Grace’s embrace would only make him want more. Make him feel more. And feeling too much always led to heartache.

“This is the last time I’m passing along any messages for you.” Katie slapped her hand on his chest, and trapped between her palm and his shirt were several notes. “Tell your patients to call your cell phone and stop clogging up the ranch phone line. We need that line to stay open for new bookings.”

“I don’t have patients,” Ethan said.

“Looks like you do now.” Katie smiled. “Just make sure those house pets don’t interfere with the ranch. You’re here to help save Blackwell, not the town.”

As Katie turned away, Ethan scrambled to catch the scraps of paper floating to the dirt. He glanced over the notes, recognized the names, most he’d known all his life. He’d call them back because his mother had taught him manners and he’d suggest they consult with a licensed vet in the area.

But shortly after an exchange of greetings with Mrs. Hatfield, who invited him over for dinner and explained she only wanted advice from a trusted family friend, the conversation derailed. Four more calls later and four more “appeals for advice from a friend,” Ethan had dinner, lunch meet-ups and one pie date arranged, along with one early-morning coffee meeting. The good news: he’d be too busy visiting friends and neighbors, and could leave Grace alone to untangle the ranch accounts.

* * *

GRACE UNWRAPPED ANOTHER mint to quiet her stomach. Three hours past lunch and her buttered toast hadn’t settled. She left her dad sorting a shipment of cat food in the warehouse and walked to the storefront, passing her office. She wanted to sit down and prop her feet on her desk. Five minutes. Ten at the most. She needed that much after Ethan’s unexpected arrival earlier.

His confident presence had filled the space even though he’d remained near her door as if he’d been in a hurry to leave. As if he believed sleeping with her had been a mistake. Still, she’d forgotten how reliable his shoulders looked. But would Ethan be a reliable dad? Maybe if she just closed her eyes for a moment, she could find her balance. Surely, she’d be a reliable mother and that was all that mattered.