The Doctor's Calling. Stella Bagwell

what all of this was going to do to her life.

      “I’m not sure I have any questions for Quint,” she said after a moment. “Because I’m not at all sure I want to take the job.”

      Surprise flickered in his eyes, but he couldn’t be any more surprised than she was at herself. The words had popped out of her mouth with a will of their own, as though something inside her had plucked the remark straight out of the chaos going on in her head.

      Long seconds stretched in the quiet room before he finally asked, “You aren’t interested in the job?”

      “I didn’t say that. I said I wasn’t sure about it,” she corrected.

      “You were just bemoaning the fact that jobs weren’t hanging from tree limbs. You have something else in mind that you’d rather do?”

      She resisted the urge to squirm upon the seat. There had been times in the past when she’d thought of moving on to work for another vet or changing to a different job that still involved caring for animals. Anything to get her away from the hopeless attachment she felt toward Russ. But she’d never been strong enough to take such a step.

      “Not exactly,” she answered vaguely. “But moving to the Chaparral—that would be a major move for me.”

      “I’m well aware of that,” he said bluntly. “It’s a major move for me, too.”

      “That’s true,” she reluctantly agreed. “But it’s different for you.”

      “How so?”

      Groaning wearily, she scrubbed her face with both hands. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore tonight, Russ. I’ll think about it and give you my decision tomorrow.”

      “Tomorrow is Sunday. You don’t work on Sundays, remember?”

      Only because she’d demanded that he give her that one day off. Otherwise, she’d be working nonstop for seven days a week. As for Russ, he had to come to the clinic no matter what day of the week it was. There were always small animals to be cared for and fed, and then there were the horses and cattle penned in the shelters behind the building that needed the same attention. Sometimes she took pity on him and showed up on Sunday afternoons to help him. And though he’d never said he appreciated her gesture, he always added overtime pay to her weekly check.

      But money or salary from Russ had never been an issue with Laurel. All she’d ever really wanted from him was his appreciation, along with a little thoughtfulness. And his companionship throughout the workday. Unfortunately, the latter had become the thing she wanted from him most of all.

      “All right then, I’ll phone you.”

      “No. You won’t phone me,” he said flatly. “You’re going to give me your decision directly to my face.”

      It was just like him to make something as difficult as possible for her, she thought crossly. “Okay. Monday morning. I’ll give you my answer then.”

      She started out of the small room, but before she could slip out the door, he called out her name.

      Pausing, Laurel looked back at him and for one brief moment she wanted to burst into tears. She wanted to beat her fist against his chest and ask him why he was doing this to her. She’d never been good with changes. She’d been through too many tough ones to ever dream a good change could come into her life.

      “Don’t bother about cleaning up the operating room. I’ll deal with that and anything else that we left undone. Go on home.”

      He’d never given her a break like this before and she wondered why he was making such a gesture tonight. Because their time in this clinic was nearly over? Because their days of working together were almost at an end?

      They didn’t have to end, she thought. She had a choice. She could follow the man to the Chaparral. But would that be the right and healthy thing for her to do?

      Suddenly her throat was burning, and when she spoke her voice was unusually hoarse. “Thanks, Russ,” she said simply. “I’ll see you Monday morning.”

      It was nearing midnight when Russ maneuvered his four-wheel-drive truck over the snow-packed driveway leading up to the house he’d called home for the past twelve years. The large split-level brick structure was situated on the eastern edge of Ruidoso Downs and had a beautiful view of Sierra Blanca. Though it was far from being a mansion, it was a comfortable, spacious house with more amenities than Russ wanted or needed.

      He was basically a simple man and had only purchased the property because his ex-wife, Brooke, had insisted it was a fitting home for a doctor.

      Doctor, hell, he mentally snorted. He wasn’t a doctor. He was a vet. But she’d never wanted or tried to see the difference. She’d had huge ambitions for him and herself. And in the end, he supposed those ambitions were the very things that had split them apart. As for the house they’d once shared, he’d remained in it simply because it was much easier than moving, and it was close to his clinic. Besides, the rooms didn’t hold many memories, good or bad, of their marriage. The time they’d spent together within its walls had been very limited.

      But Russ rarely thought of Brooke anymore, or their ill-fated relationship. At least, he’d not thought of her until about a month ago when he’d spotted her in a restaurant in downtown Ruidoso. Once they’d divorced and she’d moved away, Russ hadn’t seen her in the area. But she had longtime friends here, so it wasn’t really a surprise to see her dining with old acquaintances. Especially since it had been during the Christmas holiday season. No, the surprise had been Brooke’s obvious pregnancy.

      She’d never been willing to give him a child. But apparently the new man in her life had changed her mind about becoming a mother. And that idea had jolted him, had left him wondering just what his life and work were all about.

      After parking his truck in the garage, he entered the house through a side door leading into the kitchen. Inside the warm room, he shrugged out of his heavy jacket and slung it over a chair. At the refrigerator, he pulled out a longneck beer and twisted off the cap.

      He rarely consumed alcohol, especially not cold beer on a winter night. But right now he was feeling the need to blunt the image of Laurel’s face. Earlier this evening, when he’d told her he was closing the clinic, he felt he’d never seen such utter disappointment on anyone’s face. And that alone bothered the hell out of Russ.

      He’d always been an independent person. He lived to suit himself and made his own decisions on what he thought best, not what someone else believed. For the past two years Quint Cantrell had been encouraging Russ to become the Chaparral’s resident vet. In fact, the ranch owner had vowed he wouldn’t fill the position until Russ was ready and certain he wanted to accept the job.

      During that time, Russ had weighed the offer, asking himself if selling his clinic and moving to the Chaparral was the right thing for him to do. Working exclusively for the ranch would simplify his life and allow him to do the work he loved under much easier conditions. It would give him time in his life to do more than simply caring for animals from sunup to sundown, and falling exhausted into bed every night, only to get up and start all over again. He wanted time for a home and family. All those reasons had been weighing heavily on him, but he’d been reluctant to make changes. Until he’d seen his ex-wife pregnant. She’d clearly moved on, and it was time that he did, too.

      He truly believed that selling the clinic and moving to the Chaparral was a step in the right direction for himself and for Laurel. In spite of what his devoted assistant thought, he had considered her in this move. After all, he wasn’t blind. He’d been watching her work herself to a weary stupor day after day, and this change in jobs would ease the load on her shoulders, too. But there simply hadn’t been any option of taking on more staff or a partner. Now he wanted that easier life for Laurel just as much as he wanted it for himself. Yet it was plain she wasn’t happy about any of this, and now he was beginning to wonder if he had the woman figured all wrong, or even worse, if he’d taken her for granted.

      A loud