“Things have been pretty hectic around here, but I don’t forget appointments. And I’m even less likely to have forgotten an appointment with...”
Rebecca swallowed when his words trailed off. What had he been about to say? With someone who had treated him so callously? The girl who dumped him.
Joe pulled the glove off his right hand and then tugged the matching one off his left hand using his teeth, before taking out his phone. The skin tone silicone cover of the myoelectric prosthesis made his right hand appear nearly identical to his left. She couldn’t help assess that he really didn’t use the prosthesis, apparently utilizing the device simply as a placeholder.
After fiddling with the phone for a moment, he paused and slowly met her gaze. Complete shock was reflected in his eyes. “Are you...”
“I’m the therapist who’s been assigned to complete the certification for your prosthesis.”
“You’re a therapist?”
She nodded.
“I thought they were sending someone from Denver. They told me it was someone who would help with those media people who are coming, as well.”
His voice was edged with irritation, and Rebecca held her breath and stepped back from him.
“They are. They did. I am.”
Joe Gallagher’s face looked like he’d just been struck with a cattle prod.
She crossed her arms and stated the obvious. “This is going to be a problem.”
He took off his Stetson and then slapped it back on so that it rested at the back of his head, revealing more of his jet-black hair. She could clearly see that his moss-green eyes were troubled.
“Joe?”
“I guess it better not be, because the way I see things, I don’t have much choice. Do I?”
“You tell me.” She looked him straight in the eye. “Is our history going to get in the way?”
“History? Is that the politically correct term these days?” He offered a bitter chuckle.
She studied him once again. His face was a mask, his gaze shuttered.
“No, Becca,” he finally continued. “You don’t have to worry. Even this Colorado cowboy realizes that was a long time ago. We were kids. This is business. More important, the future of Gallagher Ranch depends on me completing the requirements of my contract with OrthoBorne. I cut a deal to pay off this fourteen-karat-gold myoelectric arm.” His eyes pinned her. “And I always keep my word.”
Joe turned his head to glance out at the land, and she realized she’d been dismissed. The knowledge burned.
“So Monday, then?” she asked quietly.
“That’s fine. I’m past the main house. A bit farther up the road. Two-story log cabin.”
She nodded.
He turned to her. “When do your friends arrive?”
“They aren’t my friends.” Rebecca bristled. “I don’t even know who was contracted for this job, except that there’s a videographer and a copywriter.”
“When will they finish?”
“That is wholly dependent upon you and the weather.”
He offered a slow shake of his head that said her answer wasn’t nearly satisfactory enough. “What about certification? How long do you think that will take?”
“Once again, everything depends on you. I don’t anticipate more than four weeks reviewing your ADLs.”
He straightened, jaw tense, and his face was almost thunderous. “Four weeks! Four weeks? I have a ranch to run.”
“Joe, that’s exactly why it will take that long. In fact, knowing how a ranch runs, I asked for extra time so our sessions don’t interfere with what you have to do at the ranch or with the media crew.”
“And what’s an ADL?”
“Activities of daily living.”
He sucked in a breath but said nothing.
“Look, that doesn’t mean we can’t get everything done earlier than scheduled. I’ll accompany you on your routine chores, schedule one-on-one sessions related to your ranch work. Then I’ll assist you to incorporate the prosthesis into your daily life that isn’t ranch related.”
“Can you still ride?”
“What?” She shook her head, certain she’d heard the terse question incorrectly.
“Ride. Do you ride?”
Rebecca frowned. “I was born in a saddle, like you were. Cowgirls don’t forget how to ride.”
The tension in Joe’s shoulders eased a bit. “That’ll help, because, no offense, Becca, but I plan to graduate way ahead of schedule.”
“While it’s my job to treat you the same as all my clients, there is no doubt in my mind that you’ll beat all records getting this done. Then I’ll be gone, and you can go back to your life.”
Rebecca looked up at him, standing tall and proud, profiled against the land. For a brief moment she imagined she saw a glimpse of something familiar from years ago and the closeness they once shared.
That was crazy because yesterday was long gone. Once again Rebecca reminded herself that it was high time to start looking forward instead of behind.
* * *
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Simpson, but it’s no longer available.”
“How can that be? I called before I left Denver to make sure everything was set.”
Joe turned at the sound of Becca’s voice.
He’d sidestepped the woman for twelve years, and now he managed to run into her twice in the space of a few hours?
She stood on the sidewalk of downtown Paradise, and was obviously doing her best to get her point across to a wiry guy as they stood outside the real-estate office.
How little the years had changed her. He’d been stunned to see her at the fence this morning. The years had tumbled back, and he realized with painful clarity that the tall, lean beauty who’d stolen his heart at sixteen apparently could still tie him in knots.
The difference was that this time he had a strong rope anchored to his heart, holding down those once generous emotions of his. Only a fool gets burned twice.
He’d made more than his share of mistakes in his life, and he liked to believe he’d learned from every single one of them. Joe glanced down at his prosthesis, remembering the farm accident that had taken his limb. He pushed the memory away and focused on the here and now.
Joe glanced back down the street. From a distance, he could feel the tension in the air. He tucked himself back into the doorway of a shop, grateful he stood well behind Becca’s line of sight.
She pushed strands of dark hair away from her face as she dug in her purse to pull out neatly folded papers. “You took my deposit and my credit-card information. Why, you even mailed me a receipt. I have the paperwork right here.”
Confusion laced Becca’s voice. To her credit, she maintained her composure, though her hands were clenched tightly around her purse.
The Realtor adjusted his tie, swallowed and shrugged, obviously avoiding eye contact with her. “I’ve reversed the charges, ma’am. No worries.”
“No worries?” She blinked and began to gesture with her hands. “No worries?”
Joe found himself unable to resist listening to the conversation, and at the same