“Were you talking on your phone while you were driving?” His words held the sting of accusation.
Tabitha shook her head. Mistake. Her cheek throbbed and she lifted her hand to touch it. It felt warm. It was probably already changing color.
“No.” She left it at that. She’d learned too many times in her life that the more she talked, the more trouble she got into.
Case in point: Morgan’s mother, who had been her high school teacher and who thought Tabitha was an unsuitable match for her vet-school-headed son. Who had warned lowly Tabitha Rennie, high school dropout, away from Morgan Walsh. He was too good for her, Mrs. Walsh had told her, and Tabitha knew it was true.
Tabitha held Morgan’s gaze, then shifted her scrutiny to his son, who watched her with interest.
“You sure you’re okay?” she asked Nathan.
He nodded, staring at her as if trying to figure out who she was.
“Good. And your dog is okay?”
Nathan nodded.
“Also good. Glad we don’t have to bring you to the hospital or the dog to the vet. Though your dad is a vet, so maybe he could fix it himself. I usually work at the vet clinic, but not today.” She caught herself, blaming her chatter on nerves. She was tempted to ask Morgan why he hadn’t started work today, like she had been told, but figured that was none of her business.
So she gave the boy a semblance of a smile, then took a step back.
“Do you need a hand getting your truck out?” he asked.
Frankly, given his attitude toward her, she was surprised he offered. But country manners always took precedence over personal feelings when you lived in the ranching country of Southern Alberta. Houses were far apart and people depended on each other for help.
“No. I should be okay,” she said with more bravado than she felt.
She got into her truck and waited until Morgan and his son walked away from the road, but they didn’t go directly into the house. Instead Morgan stayed by the driveway, watching.
Please, Lord, let me get out of here in one go.
Then she twisted the key in the ignition.
Her truck wasn’t its usual temperamental self and the engine turned over only twice before it caught.
She prayed the whole time she had her foot on the gas, her back tires spinning, tossing mud onto the road and spitting it out beside her. Her pride was on the line and she could use a win.
Finally, her tires caught the gravel, spun again, and then with a lurch she was out. She slammed on the brakes and the truck rocked to a halt.
Thanks for that, Lord, she prayed, feeling foolish that she wasted the Lord’s time with such trivial things.
But it was important to her to not look bad in front of Morgan. A man who once held her heart. A man she had been forced to toss aside.
She put the truck into first gear and drove past Morgan and his son at a sedate speed.
Both of them were still watching her. One with interest, the other with a frown.
Life had just become much more complicated, Tabitha thought as she stepped on the gas and shifted into second. Hopefully she wouldn’t lose her job at the café.
Again.
* * *
So, that was over and done with.
Morgan watched as Tabitha’s truck drove down the road, a plume of dust roiling in its wake. Since he decided to come back to Cedar Ridge, he knew meeting Tabitha was inevitable. When Dr. Waters told him that Tabitha worked as a vet assistant in the clinic some mornings, he had almost not taken the job.
It was only when he heard she was planning on selling her place and moving eventually that he agreed. He would only have to put up with her for a short while.
“Why were you so mad at that lady?” Nathan asked, watching Tabitha leave as well.
“I wasn’t mad,” he said, his voice quiet, controlled as he fought down a beat of disgust at his reaction to Tabitha. Since she broke up with him all those years ago, leaving him with an engagement ring and a broken heart, he had moved on. He’d got married to Gillian. Got a degree and a son, whom his wife had kept away from him.
Three weeks ago he buried his wife and got custody of his estranged son.
A lot of changes in his life that had taken up a lot of emotions.
Yet all it took was one glimpse into those aquamarine eyes, one flip of Tabitha’s copper-colored hair, one crooked smile from those soft lips for the old flame to reignite.
He had to keep his guard up if they would be working together at the clinic.
“I was scared for you,” he said to Nathan, giving him a lopsided smile. “You shouldn’t go running out into the road like that.”
“I thought Brandy would get run over.” Nathan glanced around, looking for the dog that had disappeared again. “Where did she go?”
As if on cue the dog reappeared, bounding over to Nathan, jumping around him, tongue out, tail wagging with glee.
Nathan tried to pet her but the golden retriever wouldn’t stand still. His grandmother had given Brandy to Nathan as a puppy but the dog had never been properly disciplined.
Which had made the long drive here from Arizona, where Nathan’s grandmother lived, even more tedious.
“That lady sure was pretty,” Nathan said in a matter-of-fact voice as he picked up a stick for Brandy to fetch.
“Yeah. She was.” That much he could admit.
He had a ton of things to do and to occupy his mind. Getting his son settled in and dealing with the new complication his mother-in-law had thrown at him this morning.
Gillian’s mother, Donna, couldn’t keep Gillian’s other horse, the one she was training when she died, at her place. Could Morgan please help her out?
He would have preferred that Donna simply sell the horse, but when she asked to talk to Nathan, she’d told him about his mother’s horse. And suddenly Nathan insisted that Stormy come to live with them at the ranch.
Now he had to find a way to make that happen.
“So should we start unpacking the boxes we put in your room?” he asked.
Nathan tossed the stick and Brandy took off after it. “I guess so,” he said, his voice holding little enthusiasm.
“We can finish decorating your room if you want,” Morgan said with a hopeful tone. “Hang up some pictures.”
This got him a lackadaisical nod as Nathan watched Brandy return.
“Drop it, Brandy,” Nathan commanded, but the dog wouldn’t relinquish the stick.
“I think we should tie Brandy up again while we unpack,” he suggested as he caught the dog by the collar. The dog immediately sat down.
“She doesn’t like being tied up,” Nathan protested. In fact, he had untied her a few moments ago, which was the cause of Brandy’s sudden flight across the road.
“Probably not, but until she gets used to this place, it might be a good idea. You don’t want her to get run over.” Brandy tugged at Morgan’s restraint, but he was used to handling uncooperative dogs and kept a steady pressure on the collar. “Sit,” he said, and once again, she did as she was told.
“Can I untie her when I’m done?”
“If you make sure you stay in the yard