Accidental Hero. Loralee Lillibridge

I know I’m probably overly cautious about my horses, but it’s important for me to keep them as healthy as possible. They’re not exactly youngsters.”

      “You know I’ll do what I can.” He finished with Jo-Jo, packed up his implements and headed for the clean-up area to wash his hands.

      Abby leaned against the wall outside Jo-Jo’s stall and mentally added the cost of today’s visit to the balance she still owed the vet. Trying to figure out just how she was going to pay the mounting bill was keeping her awake too many nights lately. The more she delved into the mishmash of Pop’s on-again-off-again bookkeeping system, the more she realized she should’ve gotten involved sooner. Should’ve focused her attention on the business of the ranch instead of selfishly wallowing in the condition of her humiliated heart. How pitiful was that?

      Lost in her disturbing thoughts, she didn’t hear Stuart’s approach. When he touched her arm, she spun around. He stood close enough for her to read the eagerness in his expressive face. Close enough for her to anticipate what he was about to suggest. She waited and tried to feel a measure of excitement.

      “How about dinner tonight?” His cultured, calm voice didn’t threaten or demand, even as his thumb caressed the inside of her elbow. “There’s a new place on the outskirts of Austin I’d like to take you. I hear the chef does wonders with stuffed trout.”

      Abby studied him—the sexy cleft chin, silver-gray eyes and thick, cropped hair that was neither blond nor brown, but shades of both. Even his physique was a photographer’s joy. He would be right at home on the cover of any top magazine. Smooth, polished, intelligent. A definite candidate for Texas’s most eligible bachelor list.

      So, why didn’t she feel something here? Tingling nerve ends or goose-bumpy shivers? What kind of problem did she have, anyway? Why couldn’t she work up some good, old-fashioned lust? He’d made it clear on their previous date that he’d like to pursue their relationship, even though he didn’t push the issue. Were her hormones totally nonfunctioning? He was Mr. Nice Guy, for crying out loud. The type she’d convinced herself she wanted—deserved, even. The type that wouldn’t give her heart any reason to cry.

      “Tonight? Well, I…” Abby took a step backward. Stuart slid his hand down her arm, entwining his fingers through hers.

      “I know it’s Monday,” he said, “but we’ll make it an early evening, I promise. What do you say, Abby? Pick you up at six?”

      There was nothing subtle about the desire in his voice or the admiration in his eyes, but he never overstepped the boundaries of good conduct. Stuart Wilcox was as honest and forthright as he was good-looking. She knew he wanted her.

      “All right, six is fine.” Abby forced a smile and untangled her hand from his. “Now, I really need to fix Pop’s lunch and get ready for the afternoon class.” She hesitated. “I’d ask you to join us, but I’m afraid it’s only tuna sandwiches.”

      His polite refusal nearly had her shouting with relief. The way he’d wrinkled his nose at the mention of tuna, she was pretty sure it wasn’t his favorite item on the menu. That little bit of information she tucked away for future reference and hurried on to the house. A quick glance at her watch reminded her of everything she had to do, and prompted her to contemplate how she could add a few more hours to the day. Instead of daylight saving time, she could call it sanity saving time. Specifically hers.

      All afternoon, concentration eluded her as she struggled to get through the rest of the day. The hour-long classes were a blur, her attention scattered by mental arguments in Stuart’s favor and counterarguments from Bo’s intruding image. She really needed some alone time to sort out the disturbing thoughts that were making her unusually impatient and antsy. Not her normal self. By the end of the last session, she wondered if she had actually done any supervising at all. Thank goodness for the volunteers. She needed someone around here to stay sane.

      And Pop. Bless him, he hadn’t even questioned her when she told him about accepting the dinner date with Stuart. Just raised his eyebrows in that way he had of silently asking if she wanted to talk. But when she hadn’t, he’d given her a hug and told her tomorrow would be better. The eternal optimist, her Pop. If only she could believe him.

      She was ready when Stuart arrived exactly at six o’clock. He looked handsome in his charcoal slacks and gray silk shirt. Not at all like the man who had grubbed around in her horse barn that same morning.

      “You look lovely, Abby,” he said. He opened the car door for her and she slid in.

      She thanked him and wished she’d worn something a little snazzier than her navy silk shift.

      “I hope you like this restaurant. It has a five-star rating,” he said when they reached the highway and sped toward Austin.

      “I’m sure I will.” Abby leaned back against the leather seat and ordered herself to relax. She needed the break and Stuart was wonderful company. Wasn’t he?

      “Tired?” He reached for her hand. “I wish there was more I could help you with.”

      “It has been pretty hectic, what with the new students and all, but things are slowly coming together. Pop and I appreciate the care you’ve given our animals.” She let her hand remain in his. The feeling was nice, but there weren’t any of those delicious shivers tickling her spine. No rapid heartbeat, either. She sighed.

      “I’d do a lot more if you’d let me.” Stuart’s attention briefly left the road. His sincere smile should’ve lifted her spirits. It didn’t.

      “Thanks, Stuart, I appreciate the offer.” She eased her hand away, smoothed her skirt.

      “Well, put your problems aside for a few hours tonight and leave everything to me.”

      He exited the main highway and by the time he pulled the Lexus into the inn’s valet parking area, Abby had made up her mind to stop making comparisons between Stuart and Bo. She’d concentrate on having a good time. How difficult could that be?

      Dinner passed comfortably. Stuart had been right—the food was delicious. “More wine?” Stuart said later, as he poised the bottle over her glass, when they had finished their meal.

      Abby shook her head. “No more, thanks,” she said. “Two glasses are my limit.” She didn’t need any more of a buzz than she already had.

      Wine was not her drink of choice, but Stuart had made such a to-do over the wine selection, she didn’t have the heart to tell him she’d rather have tea. Especially after her obvious dismay when the waiter served their stuffed trout entrée. Well, how was she to know the thing would be served with its whole face staring right at her? Give her a nice blackened catfish dinner with fries any day. She was relieved when the meal was over and they left the inn. She just wasn’t cut out for gourmet dining.

      The moon cast a pale light on the ribbon of road leading back to Sweet River. Replete with the fine wine and the meal, Abby fought to keep her eyelids from drooping.

      She heard Stuart slide a CD into the slot. Soon, Andrea Bocelli’s thrilling tenor voice filled the car with romantic Italian love songs. Abby couldn’t understand a single word, but the beauty of his music touched her heart.