“Hello?” The irritation in his deep voice made the word less a greeting and more a challenge.
She hesitated, but for only half a second. Tentativeness wasn’t in her nature. “May I speak with Jarrett Ross?”
“You got him. But if you’re selling something—”
“Only my professional services.” Someone should tell Mr. Ross that anyone who placed a Help Wanted ad should curb his hostility; it made people not want to help. “My name is Sierra Bailey. I’m a physical therapist, and Daniel Baron, one of my former clients, gave me this number. He mentioned your family is looking for someone with PT experience.”
“Oh! Yes. God, yes. Sorry, you just caught me at a bad time. Of course, that describes all of the time lately, but— Sorry,” he repeated. “I wasn’t expecting applicants to call me. Most of them have been phoning my mother.”
“Ah. You’re not the girl’s father?” Daniel had given her a name and a number. He hadn’t outlined the family tree.
“Definitely not. I’m Vicki’s older brother. But I might as well talk to you. After all, you and I would be the ones living together while my parents are away.”
Living together. The words gave her an odd jolt. Although Paul had spent enough nights at her place to warrant his own dresser drawer and a sliver of counter space in the bathroom, she’d never technically lived with a man. You wouldn’t be living with this one, either. Not in any personal way.
“My parents’ trip is why we’re seeking the extra help with Vicki,” he continued. “Not only could she benefit from physical therapy here at the house, we could use someone to keep her company while I’m working the ranch. If she needs something, I’m not readily accessible on the back forty. What was your name again?”
“Sierra. Sierra Bailey.”
“And Daniel Baron gave you my number? He’s a good guy. I used to compete against him and his brothers all the time.”
“Ah. So you’re a rodeo rider.” She hadn’t meant to sound judgmental. It just wasn’t a lifestyle she could wrap her head around. She worked with so many people who were injured through no fault of their own that it was hard to understand anyone deliberately pursuing such a potentially dangerous career.
“I was,” he said tightly, “but not anymore. I’m committed to the ranch. And to Vicki’s recovery.”
The patient. Here was comfortable ground. In her other interviews, she’d had to talk about herself, which made her prickly. It was easier to sound competent and professional while discussing the person she’d be treating.
She asked about the girl’s age—nineteen was older than she’d expected—and injuries. There was a pause before Jarrett began describing them. When he started talking again, the words came in an uncomfortable rush, as if he wanted to get through the list as quickly as possible. His younger sister was healing from several injuries, including a broken wrist, but the major issue was that her pelvis had been crushed in the accident.
Sierra winced. It was the kind of pity she’d never show in front of a patient because pity made a person feel weak. But the young woman had a rough time ahead of her.
“You obviously know your field well,” Jarrett said after they’d spent a few minutes discussing medical specifics. Yet he sounded more grim than impressed. Wasn’t her expertise a good thing? “To tell you the truth, Ms. Bailey, you may be overqualified. We were thinking more in terms of a semiretired therapist or a home health care assistant who might not mind some light housekeeping and making sure Vicki gets dinner if I’m working past sundown. I don’t know if Daniel mentioned salary, but—”
“He did.” Calling that sum a salary was a generous overstatement. “It’s below what I would normally consider, but honestly, I’m taking some time off to decide between several future options.” Yeah, like whether to waitress at a steak house or bartend at a West End nightclub. “This gives me time to carefully evaluate my choices.” Well done, Bailey. She’d managed to make herself sound methodical, not desperate.
“So you’re all right with our terms?”
“Well, I won’t argue if you decide after a week that I deserve a raise, but what you’re offering is at least worth my driving to Cupid’s Bow for a face-to-face meeting.”
“That’s fantastic.” It was the happiest he’d sounded during their entire conversation, and it highlighted how dour his mood had been—from his tense tone when he’d answered to his obvious discomfort discussing his sister’s accident to his doubt Sierra would deem the job worth it. Jarrett Ross clearly wasn’t the president of the Cupid’s Bow Optimists Club. “I just wish my parents hadn’t already booked their flight. They’re leaving in two days, so unless you can be here tomorrow, they won’t be available to sit in on the interview.”
“Sorry, tomorrow’s full.” Since she hadn’t known where and when she’d be working again, she’d scheduled a number of personal appointments, taking advantage of the time left before her health and dental insurance ran out. “I can manage the next day, though.”
They agreed on a time, and he asked for her email address so he could send her directions. “GPS or internet maps will get you most of the way, but we’re a bit off the beaten path.”
Which didn’t bolster her enthusiasm for making a temporary home in Cupid’s Bow.
Then again, if the town could evade the reach of an orbiting satellite system, she should easily be outside the meddling reach of Muriel Bailey. Ever since Sierra’s last relationship ended, her mother, undaunted by living three and a half hours away, had tried arranging meetings between Sierra and Dallas’s most eligible bachelors. The good news about a town the size of Cupid’s Bow was that there couldn’t be many men who met her mother’s exacting standards.
So when she ended her call with Jarrett by saying “I look forward to meeting you,” she very nearly meant it.
“Knock, knock,” Jarrett said tentatively, unsure of his welcome as he stood in the doorway of his sister’s room. His voice seemed to echo unnaturally. The house had been damned quiet in the hours since their parents had left at the crack of dawn. According to his mother, Vicki had barely said a word when they came into her room to exchange goodbyes. Did she feel like the Rosses were abandoning her?
His mother was excited that Jarrett was interviewing another candidate this afternoon. Until Sierra had called, the family had decided to offer the position to local retired nurse Lucy Aldridge, a grandmother of five. Lucy was kind, if a bit absentminded, but she was also more than three times Vicki’s age. Anne Ross had worried Vicki wouldn’t relate to her. Jarrett didn’t know specifically how old Sierra Bailey was, but judging from the credentials she’d emailed, she’d been out of med school for only a couple of years. And she certainly hadn’t sounded like a woman approaching seventy. When they’d spoken, Sierra had sounded... Feisty was the word that sprang to mind.
“Did you need something?” Vicki asked, her voice empty of inflection. Her wheelchair was pulled up to her desk, and he couldn’t tell if she was looking at her laptop or simply staring out the window. This used to be a guest suite, but since it was on the first floor, they’d relocated Vicki after the accident. All the essentials were here, but she’d said not to bother with miscellaneous belongings, like the posters that hung on her walls upstairs. Or the gleaming softball trophies that sent blades of guilt through him whenever he saw them.
Her blond hair hung crookedly in a limp ponytail. She was able to shower by herself in the remodeled bathroom, but she only bothered to brush her hair when her mother said something about it. And the last time she’d applied makeup was when her boyfriend, Aaron, had visited weeks ago.
“I just wanted to remind you that Sierra should be here in an hour or