A Cowboy's Christmas Promise (4 page)

“Do you work here
every
day?” Hayley's voice came over the stall door the next morning, and Daniel whipped up, cracking his head on the underside of Apollo's jaw and making the horse snort in surprise. “Ooh! Sorry! I thought you heard me come in.”

“Nope.” He ducked more carefully under Apollo's head and walked over to where Hayley stood on the other side of the five-foot high wall. She was dressed today in a frighteningly new Stetson, sleeveless plaid shirt that showcased well-toned arms, and jeans that stopped halfway down her calves.

“I really didn't mean to scare you.” She pointed into the stall and her eyes widened. “Or him.”

He looked down at her pink-painted toes, clad only in flimsy flip-flops. “Tell me you've got something besides sandals to wear this week.”

“I brought boots.” She nodded. “Kyla already got after me this morning about wearing flip-flops in the barn. The word
squish
was even uttered.”

She blew out a quick breath. If he didn't know better, he'd think maybe she was…nervous? “I wasn't planning to come in here right now, but I couldn't resist.” As soon as the words were out, Daniel noticed a flush creeping up her cheeks. “The horses. Couldn't resist the horses.”

He smothered a smile. “So are you settling in? Kyla doesn't have you running in eight directions yet?”

Hayley shook her head. “I'm on break. She's trying to get me to work on centerpieces up in the main lodge, but I told her I require hourly doses of horse therapy while I'm here.”

“What
are
centerpieces?”

“The things that go in the middle of the tables at the reception. Candles, flowers, lace. You know.” Her hands fluttered a vague shape in the air as she grimaced.

“And this is just a wild guess, but you'd rather be in a smelly horse barn than up in the house doing wedding stuff?”

“You're a genius. So what's up with Apollo here?”

“Maybe colic. Not sure yet.”

“Uh oh. Can I come in and check him out, too?”

Umm, hell, no?

“I don't think so.”

“Because?” Her eyes narrowed, and he had the strong sense that Hayley wasn't used to being told what she could and could not do.

“Because for one, you have flip-flops on and his feet are bigger than your head. He's also tired and ornery and sick. Plus, he's not all that friendly even on a good day.”

“Fair enough. He really is huge.” Her eyes were appreciative as she scanned Apollo's height.

“Seventeen hands.”

“So how do you treat colic out here in the wilds of Montana?”

“Same way you do everywhere else, I imagine. We'll watch and wait for the next twenty-four hours. Hopefully things will work themselves out and he'll be back to his old self sooner than later.” Daniel moved back toward the horse, keeping a hand on his rump as he circled around him.

Hayley leaned on the stall door while Daniel ran his hands over the giant horse's stomach. Keeping his eyes on the horse rather than Hayley was harder than he wanted to admit.

She leaned on the top of the stall door, watching him. “Have you ever been kicked?”

“Yup.”

She winced as she looked into the stall at Apollo's hooves. “He does have ginormous feet.”

“This is why I try to stay on his good side.”

Daniel glanced at her, for the first time noticing a four-pronged gash on her neck. He pointed at it. “Unlike you, apparently. Did you lose a fight with a raccoon?”

Hayley's hand flew to her neck. “Evil, over-stressed show cat.”

“Ah, the perils of a perky-pet practice.”

“Perky-pet practice?”

“Sorry. Kyla told me the name of your clinic, but I'm drawing a blank.”

She cleared her throat. “Kit-n-Kapoodle Enterprises.”

He paused, trying not to laugh. “Creative. I like the play on, y'know, kittens—and poodles.”

“Please just laugh and get it over with. My aunt named the practice before I came along. It's not my fault.”

“You could change it, couldn't you?”

She shrugged. “It kind of grows on you. And I'd feel bad. Aunt Candace was very proud of the name.”

“Is it a busy clinic?”

“Way too busy most of the time. That's what happens when you build a clientele that caters to the kind of animals that break the most.”

“I suppose it makes business sense. Did you mean to specialize in minis?”

Hayley picked at a sliver of wood on the stall door. “Not really, no. I was first-year at Tufts when my uncle—who, I should add, was
paying
for Tufts—let me know he was going to sign over his Boston practice to me when I graduated so he could retire to the Cape. I
was
hoping to do an equine specialty, but that was sort of the end of my horse career.”

Daniel nodded. “Not too many horses in downtown Boston?”

“No, and my uncle established the clientele thirty years ago, so changing its tune at this point is almost impossible.” She cocked her head. “You're laughing again.”

He tried to stop, but imagining this tall, leggy redhead wrangling show dogs and hissy cats was admittedly entertaining. “Just trying to picture a day in the life. It's…challenging.”

“So where'd
you
go to school?” Her eyebrows went up in challenge.

“Checking my credentials?”

“Absolutely.”

“Colorado State for undergrad. Cornell for postgrad.”

“Oh.” She shrugged carefully. “I guess that'll do.”

He smiled. They both knew those were some of the top programs in the country. “I was lucky they took me.”

“Well, with that education, I guess you're plenty qualified to handle Apollo here.” She waved her arm to indicate the other empty stalls. “And his minions.”

“Thank you.”

Daniel came back around under Apollo's chin, and as he neared Hayley, he caught a scent of…was that sugar cookies? She was watching the giant horse's eyes, and hers widened as he snorted.

She backed up half a step, even though five feet of heavy oak separated her from Apollo. “Do you ever get nervous around a horse his size?”

“Maybe. But the trick is not to show it.”

“So you're just putting on that big bad act, then?”

“Absolutely. Can't you tell?”

Suddenly Daniel heard a noise that could only mean one thing: Moose. The dog was headed straight for Hayley's back, and he probably outweighed her by a good twenty pounds. Daniel bolted out of the stall and grabbed her arm, swinging her behind him just as the enormous explosion of black and brown and white fur that was Moose landed squarely on his chest, panting happily.

Daniel pulled his head back to avoid Moose's slobbery kiss, and managed to send Hayley off balance. She grabbed onto his waist to steady herself, then peered over his shoulder. “What. Is.
That
?”

“That would be Moose.”

In response to his name, Moose wagged his tail, mouth open so it looked like he was smiling. Daniel fully expected Hayley to stay behind him until the giant dog calmed down, but instead, she came around and put out her hand so Moose could sniff it. “Down,” she said.

Daniel laughed unsteadily, a little more rocked than he wanted to admit by how her hands had felt around his waist. “Good luck with that.”

“Down.” Hayley repeated it, hand straight out, and wonder of wonders, the dog actually sat on his haunches and wagged his tail, brushing hay and dirt across the floor in his eagerness to please her.

Daniel felt his eyes widen. “Wow. You're good.”

“You sound shocked.”

“I thought you only dealt with little dogs.”

“I do, but that doesn't mean I don't know
how
to deal with behemoths like this baby.” Then she actually got down on her knees and took the dog's smiling face in her hands. “Oh, my goodness. You are gorgeous! You are just the biggest boy I've ever seen!” Moose made happy-dog noises as she rubbed both of his ears, and Daniel could swear the dog thought he'd died and gone to Heaven.

“So this clientele would be more to your liking?”

“The bigger and slobberier the better, yes.”

Well, that was unexpected.
And awesome.

“Now that you've scratched his ears, you own him, you know.”

“Maybe he can be my plus-one at the wedding.” She winked up at Daniel. “I think he might actually match my dirndl.”

“What in the world is a dirndl?”

Hayley stood up and sighed, brushing dog hair from her jeans. “A dirndl is a dress—of sorts. That, or a torture device invented in the highlands of—somewhere European. And I get to wear it for the wedding.”

“So this is one of those times I should be glad I'm a man and just have to endure a monkey suit?”

“Yes.”

He laughed. “Can't wait to see it.”

“You say that now.” She took off her hat to fan herself. “I'll wear it for the wedding, but after the reception is over, that dress is coming
off.
” Suddenly her cheeks flamed, and she put the hat back on. Sort of unsteadily, he noticed. “I mean, I'm going to change. Quickly. Afterward.”

“Got it.”

She looked even better with the embarrassed flush, and he had a sudden vision of what she might look like after a really hot kiss. Or other things.

“All right.” She glanced out the open barn door, up toward the main lodge. “I suppose I should go try to be helpful, if you don't need an assistant down here or anything.” She paused, eyebrows raised. “I mean, I could totally stay, if you think someone should keep an eye on Apollo or something. It would be a service I'm remotely qualified to provide. Unlike crafts.”

Daniel tamped down his vision.
What the hell was that about?
He'd just met the woman yesterday. “I wish I could help rescue you, but I think things are well under control here.”

“Rats.”

“However,” he said, and then laughed as her eyes brightened. “Someone should really check in on him once every couple of hours just to be sure. Think you could handle that?”

“Every half hour, you said?”

“You really, really hate crafts, don't you?”

“I really, really do.”

“And yet you stitch up animals for a living?”

“It's ironic, isn't it?” Hayley reached up over the stall wall to pet Apollo's nose, but he tossed his mane and snorted. “Okay, I really do need to go back up to the house. Thanks for rescuing me at least for a while.”

“You're welcome. Tell Kyla to give me a call if she thinks this guy's getting worse, okay?”

“Got it.” She clicked her fingers at Moose and the old dog jumped to his feet. “C'mon, Moose. Back to craft purgatory.” She gave Daniel a small wave. “I guess I'll see you around.”

He nodded, and couldn't help but watch her head up the hill, dog bouncing along beside her.

“Told ya.” Cole's voice came up behind him.

Daniel turned around quickly, making himself busy grabbing his stuff from the stable floor. “Told me what?”

“Told ya you wouldn't be able to resist her.”

“I can resist her just fine, buddy.”

“Whatever you say.”

“She's gorgeous! What self-respecting man
wouldn't
look?”

Cole paused. “You, normally.”

“Don't say it.” Daniel put up a hand. “Please don't say it.”

“Okay.” Cole eyed him. “But just so you know, Hayley's a lot of bluster and careless energy on the surface, but underneath, she's one of the good ones. Like Katie was.”

“Good to know.”

Daniel felt his throat tighten as the words came out. He needed to get out of here, and now. Jesus, there was no way he'd ever think about being with someone else, and it stabbed at him to think Cole thought it was a possibility. What bothered him way more, though, was that he'd apparently given Cole a reason to
think
it was a possibility.

Guilt descended on him like a dark, scratchy blanket as he grabbed hold of his bag and slung it over his shoulder. “I gotta get out to Tanner's place. Give me a call if Apollo gets worse.”

He felt badly leaving Cole in his figurative dust as he turned the truck around and drove out the driveway, but how could even his best friend understand the flood of emotion that washed over him at the most inconvenient times? How could he explain it to someone who'd never really even
been
in love, let alone married?

How could he tell him how it felt to wake up after a couple of fitful hours of sleep, only to feel a telephone pole slam into your chest when you saw the empty pillow beside you? How could he explain how the word
we
had grown spikes?

And how could he describe the grief that washed back over him eighteen months after Katie's death, when he realized he'd gone an entire day with
out
thinking about her?

How could he possibly explain his fear that by starting to feel better, he was actually leaving her behind?

Of
course
he'd thought Katie was his forever. He'd never believed it would be any other way. And when she got sick, he'd still thought the chemo and radiation would save her, even though the doctors' faces said otherwise. Because how could God take a woman with two precious five-year-olds, anyway?

But his prayers hadn't worked, and one quiet night, with the crickets and tree frogs chorusing outside the bedroom window, she'd slipped away. Forever.

In the past two years, he'd gone through all of the standard stages of grief, enhanced by trying to learn how to be a single parent to two little girls who'd been devastated by their mother's death. And even though he now had more good days than bad, and had relearned to appreciate the simple beauty of a sunset or a foliage-tipped mountainside, and had developed with the girls a routine…of sorts…he still had never imagined another woman in his life.