A Cold Creek Noel. RaeAnne Thayne

stay with him?”

      At his practice in San Jose, he and a technician would alternate stopping in every few hours through the night when they had very ill dogs staying at the clinic, but he hadn’t had time yet to get fully staffed.

      He nodded, watching his plans for a nice steak dinner and a basketball game in the hotel room go up in smoke. He had become pretty used to the cot in his office lately. Whatever would he do without Mrs. Michaels?

      “Someone will be here with him. Don’t worry about that.”

      A look of surprise flickered in her eyes. He couldn’t figure out why for a moment, until he realized she was reacting to his soft tone. He really must have been a jackass to her.

      “I’m sorry about...earlier.” Apologies didn’t come easily. He could probably thank his stiff, humorless grandfather for that, but this one seemed necessary. “About not letting you come in during the treatment, I mean. I should have. And about what I said just now. I’m usually not so...harsh. It’s been a particularly hard day and I’m afraid I may have been taking it out on you.”

      She blinked a little but concealed her emotions behind an impassive look. For some reason, that made him feel even more like an idiot, a sensation he didn’t like at all.

      “You were able to save his leg. I thought for sure you would have to amputate.”

      “He wouldn’t be much use as a ranch dog, then, would he?”

      Her look was as cool as the December night. “Probably not. Isn’t it a good thing that’s not the only thing that matters to me?”

      So she wasn’t like his previous client, who hadn’t cared about his injured dog—only dollars and cents.

      “I was able to pin the leg for now, but there’s no guarantee it will heal properly. We still might have to take it. He was lucky, if you want the truth. Insanely lucky. I don’t know how he made it through a run-in with a bull in one piece. His injuries could have been much worse.”

      “What about where he was gored?”

      “The bull missed all vital organs. The puncture wound is only a couple inches deep. I guess the bull wasn’t that serious.”

      “You would think otherwise if you had been there. He definitely was seeing red. After I pulled the dog out, he rammed the fence so hard he knocked one of the poles out of its foundation.”

      She pulled the dog out? Crazy woman, to mess with a bull on a rampage. What was she thinking?

      “Looks like he’s coming around,” he said, not about to enter that particular fray.

      The dog whimpered and Caidy Bowman leaned down, her dark hair almost a match to the dog’s coat. “Hey there. You’re in a fix now, aren’t you, Luke-my-boy. You’ll be all right. I know it hurts now and you’re confused and scared but Dr. Caldwell fixed you up and before you know it you’ll be running around the ranch with King and Sadie and all the others.”

      Though he had paperwork to complete, he couldn’t seem to wrench himself away. He stood watching her interact with the dog and winced to himself at how quickly he had misjudged her. By the gentleness of her tone and the comforting way she smoothed a hand over his fur, it was obvious the woman cared about her animal and was not inexperienced with injuries.

      Next time maybe he wouldn’t be quick to make surly comments when he was having a miserable day.

      She smelled delicious, like vanilla splashed on wildflowers. The scent of her drifted to him, a bright counterpoint to the sometimes unpleasant smells of a busy veterinary clinic.

      It was an unsettling discovery. He didn’t want to notice anything about her. Not the sweet way she smelled or the elegant curve of her neck or how, when she tucked her hair behind her ear, she unveiled a tiny beauty mark just below the lobe...

      He caught the direction of his thoughts and shut them down, appalled at himself. He forced himself to move away and block the sound of her low voice crooning to the dog.

      He had almost forgotten about his technician until she came out of the employee changing room, shoving her arms through the sleeves of her parka. “Do you mind if I go? I’m sorry. It’s just past six-thirty and I’m supposed to be at my Bible study Christmas party in half an hour and I still have to run home and pick up my cookies for the swap.”

      “No. Get out of here. I’m sorry I kept you late.”

      “Wasn’t your fault.”

      “Blame my curious dog,” Caidy said with an apologetic smile that didn’t mask the concern in her eyes.

      Joni shrugged. “Accidents happen, especially on a ranch.”

      Ben felt another twist of guilt. She was right. Even the most careful pet owner couldn’t prevent everything.

      “Thanks, Ben. You both have a good night,” Joni said.

      “I’ll walk you out,” he said.

      She rolled her eyes—this was an argument they had been having since he arrived. His clinic in San Jose hadn’t been in the best part of the city and he would always make sure the women who worked for him made it safely to their cars in the parking lot.

      It was probably an old-fashioned habit, but when he had been in vet school, a fellow student and friend had been assaulted on the way to her car after a late-night class and had ended up dropping out of school.

      The cold air outside the clinic blew a little bit of energy into him. The snow of earlier had slowed to just a few flurries. The few houses around his clinic blinked their cheerful holiday lights and he regretted again that he hadn’t strung a few strands in the window of the clinic.

      Joni’s SUV was covered in snow and he helped her brush it off.

      “Thank you, Dr. Caldwell,” Joni said with a smile. “You’re the only employer I’ve ever had who scrapes my windows.”

      “I don’t know what I’d do without you right now,” he said truthfully. “I just don’t want you getting into an accident on the way home.”

      “Thanks. Have a good night. Call me if you need me to spell you during the night.”

      He nodded and waved her off, then returned to the office invigorated from the cold air. He pulled open the door and caught the incongruous notes of a soft melody.

      Caidy was humming, he realized. He paused to listen and it took just a moment for him to recognize the tune as “Greensleeves.” He was afraid to move, not wanting to intrude on the moment. The notes seemed to seep through him, sweet and pure and somehow peaceful amid the harsh lights and complicated equipment of the clinic.

      Judging by her humming, he would guess Caidy Bowman had a lovely voice.

      He didn’t think he had made a sound, but she somehow sensed him anyway. She looked up and a delicate pink flush washed over her cheeks. “Sorry. You must think I’m ridiculous, humming to a dog. He started to get agitated and...it seemed to calm him.”

      No surprise there. The melody had done the same to him. “Looks like he’s sleeping again. I can take things from here if you need to go.”

      She looked uncertain. “I could stay. My brother and niece can handle chores tonight for the rest of my animals.”

      “We’ve got this covered. Don’t worry. He’ll be well taken care of, Ms. Bowman.”

      “Just Caidy. Please. No one calls me Ms. anything.”

      “Caidy, then.”

      “Is someone coming to relieve you?”

      “I’m not fully staffed yet and Joni has her party tonight and then her husband and kids to get back to. No big deal. I have a cot in my office. I should be fine. When we have overnight emergency cases, I make do there.”

      He had again succeeded in surprising