Courted By The Cowboy. Sasha Summers

the boy his hand. “Fisher Boone.”

      The boy’s eyes went round. “You’re Doc Fisher?” The boy looked him up and down.

      “Hey, Uncle Fisher,” Eli showed up. “Hey, Shawn.”

      “Hey, yourself.” Fisher grinned at his nephew, then glanced back at the boy. “And who are you?”

      “He’s Shawn, Kylee’s brother,” Eli offered up.

      Shawn nodded in the direction of the bar. “The crazy dog-lady bartender. That’s my sister.”

      Kylee had a little brother? It was obvious now. They both had black hair and blue eyes—and they both seemed nervous, wound too tight. What they were nervous about, he had no idea. Knowing she had a younger brother here with her was a surprise. Were they on their own? Shawn couldn’t be that much older than Eli. He had the gangly height and loose limbs of a boy on the cusp of manhood. Where were their parents?

      “Nice to meet you,” Fisher said, glancing at Kylee. She worked with quick efficiency, at ease behind the bar. She was a puzzle, a beautiful puzzle. Meeting Shawn tonight reminded him there was a lot he didn’t know about her—a lot he wanted to know. “You’ve got a pretty cool sister,” he added.

      Shawn nodded.

      “Your face looks like it hurts, Uncle Fisher,” Eli said, shaking his head.

      “You should see the other guy,” Fisher teased.

      “Kylee said you knocked him out with one punch.” Shawn seemed impressed.

      Fisher’s gaze returned to Kylee. So she’d told her brother. And while he didn’t want Shawn to think fighting was a good thing, he couldn’t deny it pleased him to know she had mentioned him to Shawn. She looked up then, her gaze searching the dance hall until she found Shawn. Fisher could see her relief from where he stood. Once more he pondered what would make her so anxious, almost like she was running from something. Or someone.

      Her blue gaze met his. He lifted an eyebrow, pointing at Shawn with a grin. She smiled and it almost brought him to his knees. It was a real smile, given freely and withholding nothing. She loved her little brother with everything she had. And damn if he wouldn’t give everything to have her smiling over him like that.

      “Fisher?” Eli waved a hand in front his face. “Fisher?”

      He forced his attention from the beauty behind the bar. “What’s up?”

      “What was the fight over?” Eli asked.

      Fisher shook his head. “George Carson was upset and I was the one he decided to take it out on.”

      “His mistake.” Shawn was looking at him with the same intensity Kylee had. “Sounds like a hothead.”

      Fisher nodded, wondering how many hotheads were in Kylee and Shawn’s past.

      “Come on.” Eli pushed Shawn’s shoulder. “You can draw later.”

      Shawn shoved his sketchbook into the worn canvas bag slung over his shoulder. “Okay.”

      “Y’all have fun.” Fisher smiled. “But stay out of trouble.”

      “Yes, sir,” Eli said. Shawn nodded, giving his sister a quick wave. Fisher glanced back at Kylee, catching sight of her sweet smile again. When she smiled like that, he couldn’t do a thing but stare at her.

      Renata joined him. “Looks like Archer’s out of luck,” she murmured.

      Fisher frowned at his sister. “Aw, come on, Renata—”

      “You might as well stop now. I know you, baby brother. You’re done for.” She was born three minutes before he was and loved to use her “seniority” when able. She patted his arm. “And if you keep looking at her like that, everyone’s going to know it. You’ve never had much of a poker face.”

       Chapter Three

      Fisher dropped to his knees in the parking lot of the vet school, keeping well away from the edge of the beat-up Jeep. A growl greeted him. His gaze met that of the very angry, very disoriented bobcat crouched smack-dab in the middle under the Jeep. Dammit.

      “He’s in the middle,” Fisher announced, seeing two pairs of vet students’ feet—too far back to do much good. He knew these kids were scared, and he didn’t blame them. But if this was going to be their job they needed to learn how to handle difficult situations with hostile animals. Technically, it was a pretty sweet training opportunity. This was one of the reasons he loved his job—he liked a little danger now and then. As long as everything turned out right in the end. Just now, they needed to help this animal. The bobcat was breathing hard, clearly in distress.

      “I need the catch pole,” Fisher called out, but the students’ feet didn’t move.

      The cat looked around nervously.

      “Now,” he spoke again, trying to keep things calm. If they didn’t get the animal lassoed, it would end up running onto the highway. He didn’t want to see that happen.

      The vet students’ feet moved, both of them.

      “One of you needs to stay there,” he spoke again while mentally cursing the situation. Where was Archer? He could use some experienced backup on this one—just in case.

      The cat’s ears perked up as it looked at him.

      Fisher smiled. “Don’t suppose you’d let me take you inside? So we can get you fixed up?”

      The cat lay down, still panting.

      “Here, Dr. Boone.” The vet student handed down the catch pole.

      “Nope, get on your knees and see what we’re doing.” Fisher didn’t take his eyes off the cat. Bobcats were fast.

      “But—”

      “What’s your name?” Fisher asked.

      “Michelle,” she said.

      “Well, Michelle, I can see it. And it needs help.” He paused. “That’s your job, right?”

      A few seconds later Michelle was on her knees beside him. “It’s gorgeous.”

      “It is. But remember it’s also a pissed off wild animal with a nasty set of claws and teeth. I wouldn’t get all warm and fuzzy over it.” Fisher knew all too well the havoc a bobcat could wreak on a farm. A few years back, he’d spent the better part of an afternoon cleaning up what remained of the family chicken coop after a bobcat’s visit. It hadn’t been pretty. “You need to get the pole in front of it. Keep it flat, slide it in—”

      He kept his voice low and even, for the cat and Michelle. When it came time to catch the cat, he took the pole. He was quick, flipping the loop over the cat’s head and snugging the loop before the animal could react. When it realized it was caught, the bobcat dug in, the growl deafening.

      “Tranquilizer?” Fisher asked.

      “Jake has it.” Fisher could hear the awe and fear in Michelle’s voice as the bobcat thrashed around.

      Fisher sighed. “Maybe now would be a good time for him to use it?” This was ridiculous. “Before it makes its injuries worse?”

      “Jake,” Michelle called out. “Now. Sedate him.”

      Jake flopped down on his stomach on the other side of the vehicle. Fisher pulled the noose just tight enough to keep the animal still so Jake could get a solid shot from the tranq gun, praying the kid knew how to aim. A minute later the bobcat was unconscious, completely limp.

      “I’ll get a gurney,” Michelle offered, hurrying in to the hospital.

      “Sorry, man,” Jake murmured, joining Fisher. “Guess I sort of panicked.”

      “In