Mystic Cowboy(6)

Her wheels were already turning. After all, she knew people whose hobbies included expensive dinners and charity auctions. The Mitchells had been one of the leading philanthropic families in Columbus. It wouldn’t take much to convince people with bleeding hearts and open wallets to have a dinner and charity auction for this clinic. And the hospital back home—maybe she could get Todd in Supplies to ship her at least the bandages that were just past their freshness date? It wasn’t like gauze went bad. The drugs were going to be harder. She couldn’t weasel extra freebies out of pharmaceutical reps if no reps got within a hundred miles of the place.

Things began to slow down around four, which meant there was only one person left in the waiting room, an old man with gray hair that just hit his flannel shirt collar. He didn’t look sick as he sat and thumbed through an ancient magazine. The end is in sight. She sighed. Maybe he just needs a prescription re-authorized. It would be nice to end on something easy. At least today hadn’t been boring.

And suddenly, it got a whole lot less boring. Tara gasped in shock as the fan was kicked out of the door. Now what? Madeline spun around in her pitiful supply closet.

Two men stood in front of Tara. Well, one man stood. He was tall and straight, all the more so compared to the broken people she’d looked at all day. His jet-black hair hung long and loose under a straw cowboy hat, all the way down to his denim-clad butt. Even though he was supporting the other man, he was moving from one black cowboy boot to the other, his hips shifting in a subtle-but-sexy motion. He was wearing a T-shirt with the sleeves torn off, revealing a set of honest biceps that looked like carved caramel—the best kind of delicious.

“Find a nice cowboy.” Mellie’s voice floated back up her from their last conversation. “Ride him a little. Have fun!”

Now, Madeline wasn’t exactly a thrill-seeking adrenaline junkie. On more than one occasion, she’d been accused of being the party pooper, the stick in the mud, a real-bring-me-downer in the room. Several times, it had been pointed out that she wouldn’t know fun if it walked up and bit her in the ass. And that was just what Mellie said to her face. God only knew what everyone else said behind her back.

But there he was, standing in her waiting room. Fun in cowboy boots. No biting in the ass required, because she knew him immediately, and all she wanted to do was find a horse and ride. With him. The heat started at her neck and flashed southward. She could feel her curls trying to break free into a full-fledged frizz with the sudden temperature change, which only made things that much worse.

“Jesse!” Tara said in a voice that was just one small step below shouting. “What did you do now?”

“Give me a hand, will you?” Fun in Cowboy Boots called back to Clarence. He pivoted just a little, revealing the other man who was leaning all of his weight on Fun’s right side.

Not good. The second guy’s leg was being held together with what looked like broomsticks and duct tape. His right arm hung limp, and his scratched face was contorted in pain.

“Damn, Rebel, what happened?” Clarence was already hefting the broken man—Jesse?—onto the nearest free table, leading to a volley of clenched grunts from the injured man. “I thought we might get through this month without you trying to kill yourself, you know.”

Did Clarence really just call this guy Rebel? Well, it was official. She’d heard it all today.

Rebel—if that was his real name—was shaking his head when he caught her staring. He had beautiful black eyes, the kind of black that didn’t so much show you the window to his soul, but reflected yours back on you. Those eyes widened in surprise. “You know how it goes, Clarence,” he said, his gaze bearing down on her with enough heat that the rest of the clinic felt suddenly cool by comparison. “Life with Jesse is always an adventure.”

Tara was next to the exam table now, holding Jesse’s hand as she felt his head. “Do I even want to know?”

“Not really,” Rebel replied, taking his time as he looked her over. His thumbs were hanging from his belt loops, which only made the shifting thing he was doing look more intentional. Aside from the long hair, he looked like every cowboy fantasy she’d ever had. Did he have a horse, or was her imagination way out of control? “You must be the new doctor, ma’am.” He took off his hat and nodded. All that black hair, so straight it made her jealous, flowed around him like a cape.

Oooh, her first ma’am. From an honest-to-God cowboy, no less. She felt the sudden urge to curtsey, but then realized what he’d said right before the ma’am. She was the doctor, and she had a job to do. Wrenching her eyes from the caramel-colored cowboy to the patient, Madeline tried to regain her professional composure. “Dr. Mitchell, please. And this is Jesse?”