'Tis the Season: Under the Christmas Tree / Midnight Confessions / Backward Glance. Robyn Carr

him slightly. “No, no. I don’t know anything about that Club Med stuff. A buddy of mine, Jerry from vet school, set up a get-together over Christmas with our old study group. We’ve only been in touch by email and haven’t been together since graduation. The Nassau part is fact, the string-bikinis part is fantasy. I’m planning to do some scuba diving, snorkeling, some fishing. I haven’t been away in a while.” He laughed. “Frankly, I haven’t been warm in a while.”

      “You don’t get together with your family over the holidays?” she asked.

      “Oh, they were gracious enough to invite me to join them all on a cruise. All of them,” he stressed. “My folks, three sisters and brothers-in-law, four nephews and two nieces. It’s going to be hell to give up all that shuffleboard, but I’ll manage somehow.”

      “Do they ever come back here?” she asked. “You know—to the old homestead? Where you all grew up?”

      “Frequently. They move in, take over, and I move out to the stable and take up residence in the vet tech’s quarters.”

      “You and the tech must be on very good terms.”

      He grinned at her. “She’s married and lives in Clear River, but we keep quarters for her for those times we have cases that are going to need attention through the night. She was my dad’s assistant before he retired. She’s like a member of the family.” Then he studied her face. Was that relief? “The family was all home for Thanksgiving,” he went on to explain. “It was great to see them all, and boy was I glad when they left. It’s madness. I have really good brothers-in-law, though. At least my sisters did that much for me.”

      She sipped her beer. “You must be looking forward to your vacation. When do you leave?”

      “The twenty-third. Till the second of January. I plan to come home tanned and rested.” And with any luck, he thought, sexually relaxed. Then he instantly felt his face grow hot and thought, Why the hell did I think that? He wasn’t typically casual about sex. He was actually very serious about it.

      Annie peered at him strangely. “Dr. Jensen, are you blushing?”

      He cleared his throat. “You don’t have to be so formal, Annie. Nate is fine. Is it a little warm by this fire?”

      “I hadn’t noticed, but—”

      “Have you eaten?” he asked.

      “No. I hadn’t even thought about it.”

      “Let’s grab that table, right there close by, before anyone else gets it. I’m going to tell Jack we want dinner. How about that?”

      “Fine,” she said. “That sounds fine. By the time we’re finished, Chris will be back, ready to feed his puppy.”

      * * *

      Through the rest of that first week the puppies seemed to do just fine. Thrived in fact. So did Annie, and she hoped it didn’t show all over her face. There was no particular reason for Nate to show up day after day; the pups weren’t sick, didn’t need medical care and he hadn’t made the commitment to help that she had. Yet he returned on Thursday, Friday and Saturday. She’d love to believe he was there to see her, but it seemed such a far-fetched idea. So highly unlikely that she could interest a man like him through this odd doggie-day-care-in-a-bar that she wouldn’t allow herself to even think about it.

      But he was there by six every day, right about the time she finished her puppy chores. He always bought her a beer, then Jack provided dinner, which they ate together at a table near the hearth. They talked and laughed while catching up on their families and all the locals they knew, getting to know each other in general. Although she knew this friendship would probably fade and disappear by the time the puppies were adopted, and even though traipsing out to that bar every day was wearing her out, she was enjoying his company more than she could admit even to herself.

      “Did you always plan to come back here? To take over your father’s practice?” Annie asked him one evening.

      “Nope,” he said. “Wasn’t part of my plan at all. First of all, I prefer Thoroughbreds to cows. I wanted to treat them, breed them, show them, race them. I did a couple of years’ residency in equine orthopedics, worked in a big practice in Kentucky, then in a real lucrative practice outside Los Angeles. Then my dad wanted to retire. He’d put in his time—he’s seventy-five now. Years back, he and my mom bought a horse property in a nice section of Southern Arizona, but they wanted to keep the house and stable, not to mention the vet practice, in the family. You have any idea how hard it is to build a practice with these tough old farmers and ranchers?” He chuckled. “The name Nathaniel Jensen goes a long way around here, even though I am the upstart.”

      “So here you are...back at the family practice?” she asked. But she was thinking that he’d been rubbing elbows with big-money horse people. Society people, whom she’d seen at a distance at certain competitions and fairs, but knew none of. She’d been riding since she could walk, took lessons and competed in dressage, and so was more than a little familiar with the kind of wealth associated with breeding, racing and showing Thoroughbreds. The well-to-do could send their daughters to Europe for lessons, fly their horses to Churchill Downs in private planes and invest millions in their horse farms. Humboldt County farm girls couldn’t compete with that. She swallowed, feeling not a little out of her league.

      “I said I’d give it a chance. My plan was to put in a year or two, save some money, maybe break in a new guy with an interest in the stable and practice. But I haven’t gotten around to that and it’s been two years.”

      “I see,” she said. “You’re still planning to leave?”

      “I don’t have to tell you what’s great about this place.” He smiled. “And I think I don’t have to tell you what’s missing. It’s kind of a quiet life for a bachelor. Remember that dull social life you mentioned?”

      “How could I forget?” she threw back at him.

      “You seeing someone?” he asked suddenly, surprising her.

      “Hmm? No. No, not at the moment. You?”

      “No. Date much?” he asked.

      Startled, she just shook her head. “Not much. Now and then.” She thought for a moment and then said, “Ah. The vacation. Getting away to see if you can jump-start your social life a little bit?”

      He just smiled. “Couldn’t hurt. And it’ll be nice to catch up with friends. We were real tight in vet school. We got each other through a lot of exams.”

      “How many of you are going?” she asked.

      “Five men, including me, two of them married and bringing wives. Two women vets.”

      “Women vets? Married?”

      “One’s still single and one’s divorced.”

      “Gotcha,” she said. “I bet one’s an old girlfriend.”

      “Nah,” he said.

      “Come on—didn’t you ever date one?”

      “I think I dated both of them. Briefly. We worked out better as study partners than...well, than anything else.” He took a drink. “Really, I want to fish.”

      She took a last bite of her dinner. “Fishing is real good around here,” she said.

      “I fish the rivers here. A little deep-sea fishing sounded like a good idea. Some sun would be acceptable. I have golf clubs,” he said with a laugh. “I used to play a lot of golf in L.A. Yeah,” he mused, “a little sunshine won’t hurt.”

      After a moment she reminded him with a smile, “And soon you’ll be lying on a beach in the middle of a hundred string bikinis.”

      “Maybe you’re right,” he said with a grin. “Maybe I should do more fishing around here if I want to catch the big one.”

      * * *