“What about tomorrow, say around noon? I have a two-hour break between the school and the clinic. If the wagon is usable, we’ll set up a schedule for your PT sessions.”
“Sounds good.”
“Hey, Caitlin.” The receptionist held up a manila folder.
“I have to go,” she said hurriedly. “Thank you, Ethan.”
She collected the folder and called the next person’s name.
Once again, Ethan was just another patient—and it didn’t set well with him.
Chapter Three
In days gone by, Caitlin would have driven directly to the main house at Powell Ranch and parked there. Instead, she followed the signs and went around behind the cattle barn to the designated parking area.
“It’s weird,” her brother said from beside her in the passenger seat. “The place is totally different, but not different.”
“Yeah, weird.” She opened her door and stepped out.
Memories that had hovered the last few days promptly assailed her. Most were good, gently stroking emotional chords. One wasn’t so good, and it quickly overpowered the rest.
“When was the last time you were here?” Justin asked, already maneuvering his legs into position.
“Oh, about nine years ago.”
Nine years, four months and…she mentally calculated…eighteen days. Not that she was keeping track.
She’d arrived that last evening intending to join the Powells for dinner, something she often did in the past. Even before the meal was served, Ethan took her out to the front courtyard and sprang the news on her. He’d enlisted. Signed up a week after his mother’s funeral. A rather important decision he hadn’t even bothered discussing with Caitlin.
A fresh wave of hurt and anger unbalanced her now, and she paused, holding on to the van door for support.
Guess she hadn’t moved past her and Ethan’s bitter breakup, after all.
It must be seeing the ranch again. Or seeing him again—for the third day in a row.
Enough is enough, she told herself. She could manage working with Ethan, seeing him at the clinic, administering his physical therapy. He was nothing more than her patient.
With actions honed from much practice, she removed her brother’s wheelchair from the rear of the minivan and carried it to the passenger side, where he waited.
She’d have set the wheelchair up for him, except he insisted on performing the task himself. Rather than argue, she gave in. Being independent was important to Justin, and she respected his wishes even though her instinct was to do everything for him.
After hoisting himself into the wheelchair, he and Caitlin made their way to the stables. She figured the office was as good a place as any to start looking for Ethan.
“Sure are a lot of people here,” Justin commented, rolling his wheelchair along beside her.
A half-dozen riders were gathered in the open area near the stables. Several more were in the arena, riding alone or in pairs. One enthusiastic mother clapped while her preschooler trotted a shaggy pony in circles.
“I hear it’s even busier when school lets out for the day.” Caitlin remembered when the only people on the ranch were the Powells and the cowboys who worked for them.
“I’ll wait here,” Justin said when they reached the small porch outside the office.
He could easily maneuver the three steps leading onto it, but he probably wanted to give Caitlin and Ethan some privacy.
Easing open the door, she stepped tentatively inside the office. The sight of Ethan sitting with his back to her at an old metal desk gave her a start.
Not again, she chided herself. No more going weak in the knees every time she saw him.
Clearing her throat, she said, “Hello,” then “Oh!” when the ancient chair swiveled around with a squeak.
The man wasn’t Ethan.
“Hey.” Gavin greeted her with a wide grin. “What brings you here?”
Caitlin vacillated between enormous relief and equally enormous disappointment. “I’m meeting Ethan.”
“You are?”
Obviously he hadn’t informed his family of her visit.
She didn’t know what to make of that.
“If he’s not around—”
“He’s here. Shoeing one of the horses.”
“Is it all right if I interrupt him?”
“I’m thinking he won’t mind.”
Caitlin wavered, then blurted, “Can I ask a favor of you?”
“Sure.”
“My brother’s outside. Would you check on him for me? Without making it look like you’re checking on him?”
“How’s he doing?”
“Good. And he’s perfectly capable of handling himself in new situations.”
“But you worry.”
“Constantly.”
“Not a problem.” Gavin’s cell phone rang. “Let me take this call first.”
“Thanks.” Caitlin hurried across the office and out the door leading to the stables.
It was like stepping back in time.
The rich, familiar scents of horses and alfalfa filled her nostrils the moment she crossed the threshold. Daylight, pouring in from the large doorways on both ends of the long aisle, illuminated the interior better than any electric-powered lights could. Soft earth gave beneath her feet with each step she took. A barn cat dashed behind a barrel, then stuck its head out to peer warily at her.
Caitlin glanced around, her breath catching at the sight of Ethan not thirty feet away. He was bent over at the waist, the horse’s rear hoof braced between his knees as he used a file to trim it.
How did he do that with a prosthetic leg?
How did he do that with a bad shoulder?
Fine, he was resilient. She appreciated that quality in an individual. Admired it. But shoeing a horse while injured was just plain stupid. So was bronc riding.
She started to say something, only to close her mouth when Ethan released the horse’s hoof and straightened.
He stood tall, his blue work shirt rolled up at the sleeves and stretched taut across his muscled back. The leather chaps he wore sat low on his hips, emphasizing his athletic frame. She couldn’t remember him ever looking better. Or sexier.
When they were in high school, Caitlin had liked him best in his football uniform. Next best in the tux he’d worn to their senior prom. She’d been the envy of every girl on the cheerleading squad, and had relished the attention.
What an idiot she’d been. Shallow and silly—placing too much importance on things that didn’t matter.
Ethan turned, and she wished suddenly she was wearing nice clothes. Not an oversize hooded sweatshirt and scrubs.
“You made it.”
“I did.”
He set the file he’d been using down on a box of tools. Next, he removed his chaps and draped them over the box. “Ready to take a look at the wagon?”
“Is that Chico?” Caitlin advanced a step, then two. “Can I pet