Accidental Hero. Loralee Lillibridge

Ramsey. A vital part of life. Something necessary in any type of relationship.”

      When she saw him flinch, Abby was satisfied she’d made her point. She reached up to push a wayward strand of hair out of her face and tuck it back under her baseball cap. “Until you see one of the classes in progress, I suppose it’s difficult to understand.”

      She wished he’d take those darned sunglasses off. Didn’t he know she could see his face anyway? The dark lens only hid his eyes, a fact that kept her on the edge of anxiety. She started to ask about Marla, but changed her mind when she realized Bo was actually listening to her.

      His rapt attention pleased her. Satisfied an empty spot in her heart that longed for his approval, yet filled a need to prove to him she had survived their unexpected breakup, thank you very much. She had her self-esteem in place and her emotions carefully tucked away.

      He removed his dark glasses as if he’d read her mind. His gaze zeroed in on her face. “You’ve done this all alone?”

      Her cheeks warmed under his scrutiny. Almost as if he dared her to look at the jagged scar that snaked from his hairline to his chin, narrowly missing his left eye. But nothing could make her forget the way those sultry eyes could seduce with a suggestive flicker. The way they shuttered lazily when they darkened with desire. With raw need. How many times had she felt the heat of his gaze caress her naked body? How many times had he touched…?

      “Abby?”

      Bo’s soft drawl and hypnotic gaze held her captive. Kept her from rational thought for only a fraction of a second, but a millennium passed before she found her voice.

      “Yes, alone…I mean no, I have Pop’s help. And volunteers. Lots of them. They’re invaluable. Without them, I wouldn’t be able to continue. There’s even a group of retired ranchers who come around once a week to help with repairs. And they bring feed when they can. It all helps.” Darn, she was babbling.

      “I still don’t see how—” Bo was interrupted by a shout from Shorty before he could finish.

      “Okay, Ramsey, let’s hit the road.” The rancher climbed in the truck and revved the motor. “See ya, Abby,” Shorty called over the engine noise.

      Abby jumped to her feet, accompanied by a rush of disappointment. The unexpected sensation astonished her, but she was even more surprised at her next words.

      “I have another class later this afternoon. Spectators are always welcome.”

      Bo gulped a last swallow of tea and set his glass down. “No way,” he said so abruptly Abby cringed and stepped back. “But thanks for leaving the chili peppers out of the tea.”

      She thought one corner of his mouth twitched right before he turned and carefully took the steps one at a time.

      The X-rated way his hips swivelled in jeans so tight they should have been banned set off a meteor shower of white-hot desire zinging through her body as his uneven gait carried him to the truck. She took one final, greedy look before she bolted for the house.

      The screen door banged shut behind her at the same time the raucous blare of a horn assaulted her ears. Swinging around, Abby saw a dusty black Tahoe pulling in the drive behind Shorty’s truck. The words Stuart C. Wilcox, DVM painted on the side of the vehicle in bold red letters reminded her that Buck had called the veterinarian earlier this morning about Jo-Jo’s swollen eye. She really didn’t feel up to dealing with the good-looking, totally nice, Dr. Stuart Wilcox right now. Especially with Bo still around.

      Not that it mattered. In fact, if Stuart asked her out again, she might just say yes. Why not? Their last date had been enjoyable enough. Dinner at a charming little restaurant, a quiet drive through the hill country in Stuart’s sleek silver Lexus, followed by a nice, though somewhat uninspiring, good-night kiss at her door. No stress, no pressure. Nice was what she was looking for, right? And being with Stuart didn’t threaten her heart, a safety factor she rated right up there with smoke detectors and seat belts.

      The Tahoe blocked Shorty’s truck, and from the shouts and honks coming from that direction, neither driver wanted to move. Abby put her hands on her hips. Now what? There was plenty of room out there to park a couple of semis. You’d think a decrepit, old vintage pickup and a shiny, uptown SUV could manage to share the space. Abby left the porch to referee, feeling a little like a pre-school teacher in the middle of a playground squabble. Where the heck was Pop? She could use some help here.

      “Looks like someone forgot his manners,” she said, marching over to give Shorty her best “shame on you” look. “Dr. Wilcox needs to get on over to the barn. Can you pull up a little and let him go around you?”

      Shorty shrugged, rolled his eyes and inched the truck forward.

      Bo stood next to the truck, and Abby wondered if he was having difficulty getting in, or if he was just waiting while Shorty argued over the right-of-way. Something must have changed his mind, because the next thing she knew, he was standing in front of her, generating heat from his body like a kicked-up furnace. Would she ever stop reacting to him?

      Bo jerked a thumb in the direction of the Tahoe. “He’s the vet? What happened to Doc Barnes?” The dark glasses were back in place, but there was no doubt his gaze was leveled at the latest visitor to the Houston ranch.

      The challenging question made her frown. “He retired a year ago and Stu…I mean, Dr. Wilcox, took over his practice.”

      “Stu, huh?” Bo shoved his hands in his pockets, cocked his head to one side. “Looks mighty citified for a country vet. He ever work with anything bigger than fancy poodles and cats with an attitude?”

      Abby crossed her arms over her chest. “Of course. He’s worked with horses. Cattle, too, for crying out loud. He’s been helping the ranchers around here for quite some time. Ask Shorty. He uses the doctor’s services, too.”

      Bo hesitated just long enough to take off his sunglasses.

      “And you? Do you use his services?”

      She bristled when he looked at her straight on. No hat hiding his face. No dark glasses concealing those soot-black eyes.

      Her chin lifted. His subtle, double-edged question ticked her off, big-time. The defiant side of her nature wanted to punch his lights out. The practical side stifled that urge, but only after a struggle.

      “If I do, Ramsey, it’s no concern of yours.” She kept her voice low, every word carefully measured. “My horses need the best care available. They’re old. One of them is nearly blind, and they all have aches and pains, just like a lot of people. Dr. Wilcox gives them excellent care.”

      “Hey, I’m sorry.” Bo touched her arm. “I was out of line. Wilcox is probably quite capable of doing his job.” He turned to go, then said over his shoulder, “But if you ever need a gimpy cowboy to muck stalls, I know one who might be interested.” He climbed in the truck, jerked his hat down and slammed the door shut—hard.

      “Let’s go,” she heard him tell Shorty.

      The rancher swung the pickup around the Tahoe and made a new track down the drive.

      Abby stared after them. Well, what brought that on? Certainly not jealousy on Bo’s part. He was a family man now. His sudden marriage to Marla had provided enough fodder for the town gossips. She certainly wasn’t going to give them any more by becoming the other woman. She’d been their object of pity long enough.

      Heading for the barn, and Jo-Jo’s stall, she pretended not to see the inquisitive glint in Pop’s eyes as she passed him on his way to the house. She wasn’t going to answer his questions, either. She just wanted to be left alone.

      “Looks like it’s only a minor infection, Abby,” the doctor said, looking up from where he’d been working when she entered the stall. His examination of Jo-Jo’s eye finished, Stuart set out a vial of antibiotic and readied the horse for an injection.

      “This, along with the drops I’m leaving, should take care