The Doctor's Calling. Stella Bagwell

her back and wondered if anything else had persuaded her to follow him to the Chaparral. Such as the fact that she might actually enjoy working with him. But that was hardly an important factor, and he didn’t know why the idea had even entered his mind. It should be enough that she was going to continue to work for him.

      “Good,” he said. “I hope you’ll be happy with your decision.”

      That brought her head around, and she stared at him with skeptical amusement. “Since when has the word happy ever entered your mind? Much less your vocabulary?” she asked.

      “Happy?” he repeated blankly. “That’s nothing new for me. I’m a basically happy man. And I want everybody else to be happy, too.”

      Disbelief twisted her plush lips, and for a brief moment he wondered if she’d ever kissed a man. Kissed him with real passion. He’d never heard her talk about dating or having a boyfriend. But that didn’t mean she stayed home and alone every night of her life. The only things they discussed were work and weather and sometimes politics. But since that last topic usually caused an eruption of fireworks, he tried to avoid it.

      “You’ve got to be kidding,” she muttered. “You, happy? I’ve never seen it.”

      He didn’t know how the back-and-forth of their conversation had taken on a personal tone. Or why his thoughts kept turning to intimate questions about his assistant. Whatever the reason, it was high time to put an end to it.

      Rising to his full height, he brushed past her and quickly went about filling a heavy mug with coffee. “I’ll be driving out to the Chaparral tomorrow evening. You might want to go along and see the house where you’ll be living,” he suggested. “I’m sure you’ll want to see what furniture you’ll need to make the place comfortable.”

      “A house! I’ll have a house all to myself?”

      Her surprise prompted him to glance at her, and the look of joyous wonder he saw on her face made him feel as though he’d finally done something right in her eyes.

      “What else?”

      The smile on her face went from ear to ear and displayed her perfect white teeth. It was rare to ever see such a glowing look on her face, and Russ could hardly keep from staring.

      She said, “I figured I’d get a room at the back of the ranch house, or a cubbyhole in one of the nearby buildings that would only be big enough for eating and sleeping. Certainly not a house. This is incredible!”

      Before he realized her intentions, she flung her arms around him and hugged him tightly. The contact of her body next to his momentarily shocked him, and all Russ could do was think about the way her breasts were smashed against his chest, and the way her soft cheek was pressed against his.

      “Oh, thank you, Russ! This makes everything so much more bearable.”

      “You’re welcome,” he murmured, but Russ doubted that she’d heard his reply. She’d already pulled away from him and was rushing out the door. He quickly called after her. “Where are you going?”

      “To tell Maccoy about this!”

      The excitement in her voice filtered back to him, and for a moment Russ stood in the middle of the tiny kitchen and smiled to himself. He hadn’t realized what having a house of her own would mean to her. Nor had he realized what having her in his arms would mean to him.

      It was just a thank-you hug, Russ. A brief expression of gratitude. Forget it.

      With a little effort, he might be able to forget the sweet pleasure of having her cheek pressed to his. But even if he lived to be an old man, he’d never forget the relief that had poured through him when she’d told him she would be going with him to the Chaparral.

      What in heck was this change in job, this move, doing to him?

      He wanted to believe his relief stemmed from the fact that she was the best assistant he’d ever worked with, and he didn’t want to lose such a top-notch employee.

      But as Russ swiftly strode toward his office, he realized all this relief he was feeling came from the fact that he was still going to have Laurel in his life. Period.

       Chapter Three

      Even though Maccoy was doing his best to taper off the appointments for the last remaining days of the clinic, it was still late the next evening before Laurel and Russ finished with the last patient and locked up the clinic.

      By the time the two of them climbed into Russ’s truck to make the trip to the Chaparral, the winter sun was long gone and darkness had urged the streetlights to flicker on. The weather had made a turn for the worst, with a sheet of snowflakes flying in front of the headlights’ beams.

      Russ said, “This doesn’t look like the best weather to make the trip, but waiting for it to get better might take days.” He glanced across the console separating their seats to see that Laurel was bundled in a heavy green sweater with a bright plaid scarf wrapped around her neck. A thick parka lay on her lap, and he realized that during all the time that she’d worked for him, whether they’d had to deal with rain or snow, cold or heat, she always seemed to be prepared and never complained.

      “Your truck is four-wheel drive. We’ve made a lot rougher trips in much worse weather,” she remarked. “Remember when old man Nobles called us out to his place to help his mare foal? There must have been two feet of snow on the ground then.”

      He nodded. “Yeah. I think we hit the ditch about three or four times before we ever got there.”

      A fond smile touched her face. “Yes, but we got there in time and the mare delivered a beautiful little filly. It had a tiny white snip on its nose and one white sock.”

      “We’ve delivered hundreds of foals around here. How do you remember that one so well?”

      “Because that night I was so afraid we weren’t going to get there in time for you to turn the foal. I guess the fear made everything about that night stick in my mind.”

      Surprised by her admission, he glanced at her. In all of their emergency encounters, she’d never panicked or shown a hint of fear. To hear her admit to being afraid back then made him wonder what other sort of emotions she might be masking now. “You never let on that you were afraid,” he said.

      “I wouldn’t let myself. I wanted to be the best help I could be. Not a weepy, hand-wringing female.”

      No, he thought, even when death was looming, Laurel was strong and dependable, like a steadying handhold on a slippery slope. Funny, but she was the exact opposite of his ex-wife, who’d fallen to pieces over a simple cut on her finger.

      But then, Brooke was an entirely different person from Laurel. She was different from him, too. And now, looking back on his courtship and marriage, he wondered what had drawn him to the woman in the first place. Oh, she’d been pretty, all right. Her bobbed brown hair had always been fixed and smooth, her clothes tailored and perfect, her makeup subtle and classic. She wasn’t from a rich, socially active family, but compared to his, her background had certainly been a privileged one. Still, the fact that he’d grown up without a family or wealth hadn’t seemed to bother her. She’d always had the motto that the future was what counted, not the past. And she’d had a big future planned for the both of them. Far too big to suit him.

      “I don’t think you could be the weepy, hand-wringing type if you tried,” he said wryly.

      Laurel looked away from him and out the passenger window. The snowfall was growing heavier, but she wasn’t really seeing the dancing white flakes. She was seeing Lainey lying in a hospital bed, too weak to lift an arm. Laurel had openly wept at the sight of her sister and had desperately begged the doctors to do something to save her. Yet none of her emotional pleas had helped. Lainey had slipped away. And after her twin’s death, a part of Laurel had frozen. She’d shut most of her feelings away, just as a way to survive, and down through the years she’d kept them locked behind