The Cowboy's Texas Sky (The Dixons of Legacy Ranch 2)

She snapped on a pair of gloves, running her hands over the animal, flipping back her ears, lifting her lips.

“Severe dehydration, possible renal issues… I want a GFR and urinalysis to check her kidneys…” Joshua scribbled quickly in her periphery. Travis stood in the doorway, leaning on it, his arms folded, hands wedged under his arms, observing, making those biceps honed in a gym and conditioned in the OR bulge again. “Ear mite infestation, both ears… Damn, she’s been living on the streets for a long time. I’m surprised she’s survived.” Travis nodded once with understanding. “You probably saw stuff like this back on the ranch, Trav.” And did she see the tiniest degree of stiffening at her mention of the Legacy? Why? “But she’s comfortable around people. My bet is she was someone’s dog. Let’s check Animal Control for missing pets and see if she’s chipped.”

Joshua jotted down each note.

“Insignificant patch of acariasis on withers, right side, and on chest—Uh, mange,” she clarified for Travis. He seemed to appreciate the medical space he stood within and the learning that came with it, if the curiosity on his face meant anything. “Let’s get a scraping, Josh. Might be anemic… Let me prep sedation and an IV and get the cat’s exam underway.”

She snapped off the gloves into the trash and hustled out of the room, slipping past Travis, who turned sideways for her so that her shoulder grazed his chest. He inhaled sharply at the contact, exhaling just as sharply so that she felt the warmth of his breath upon her bare neck and shoulders. Butterflies flitted around her belly at the unexpected sensation. Bet his kisses still pop like a firecracker and sooth like a feather.

Flustered, she snapped up a spare lab coat off the office chair and rapped on Exam Room One’s door, then pushed it open.

The woman’s cat sat curled in a carrier by her feet.

“Hi, Skylar. Sounds like you’ve got a lot going on.”

She smiled brightly. “I’m really sorry. A stray dog was struck on my way in this morning. Once I get her stabilized I’ll be right in.”

“No worries. You came in on a weekend for me.”

“Give me about ten minutes, and I’ll get a look at Mr. Cuddles’s belly. I suspect he swallowed—”

“More yarn. Yeah. Sorry. I put it in my knitting case and Velcroed the whole thing closed, and yet he still figured out how to get into it.”

“Don’t mention it. A cat’s gonna cat, right? Can I get you anything while you wait?”

“I’ve got coffee and a book.” The woman held up a travel mug and novel. “And an extra ten minutes of quiet time with the kids home on summer break? I’ll take it,” she said with a wry chuckle.

Skylar laughed. “Silver linings, right?”

What some of us would do for those rambunctious children sounds,like she’d once vied for baby feet and puppy paws with Travis. Maybe that was what had pushed Travis away. Maybe she’d been too needy and he, still so young, not ready. Maybe he’d wanted to soar and she’d tried to tether his feet.

She pivoted to the nearby reception desk, dragging closed the door, and grabbed the portable phone, punching in the outgoing code and hitting the programmed number for Judy-Lynn. Wedging the phone against her shoulder, it rang as she drew open a supply drawer and dragged the sterilely packaged supplies and needles out, jamming them into her pockets.

“Pick up, Judy-Lynn,” she murmured as the steady ringing continued, unanswered.

She beeped off the phone and discarded it back on the desk, then breezed back inside Exam Room Two, once more slipping past Travis, her other shoulder grazing against his chest and perhaps this time less by accident, littering shivers down her arm as she felt his piercing brown gaze hard upon her, felt his fingers drag down her back like feathers as she passed, a surreptitious touch that her med student couldn’t see, as if he knew she’d touched him on purpose and was itching to touch her back. If it was possible to be turned on at a time like this, she was. Which was so weird.

She slipped her hands into a pair of clean gloves, pulled the sterile rag from the package, draped it upon the tray, pulled the syringe from the packaging and screwed the needle on, grabbed up the vial of sedative, injecting the needle and filling the syringe to the measured dose.

Travis took in her every move as she tapped it to release the air bubbles and plunge them out, a look of fascination on his face in her periphery, but said nothing as she tented up the dog’s stretched skin and injected the drug.

What was Travis thinking? Was he remembering the awkward wallflower with animal hair covering her flannel from the animal shelter? That was basically what she still looked like on any given weekday, so if he was hoping for some transformation from ugly duckling into beautiful swan, he’d be sorely disappointed. Model, my ass. He really used to tell me that I should model.

“She should get dopey soon. Let’s get her back to X-ray, and then I’ll know more what we’re dealing with.” She bit her lip. Eyed him. Vacillated. Then caved. “Wanna help?”

Travis nodded, tugging up that beautiful grin, adding that cocky little jut of the chin. He pushed away from the wall with his shoulder to help lift the dog back onto the stretcher.

“How are you gonna cover the cost?” Travis asked, eying her as she nudged the door all the way with her rear, pulling the transport, Trav pushing it with a hand on the dog’s chest to hold her steady.

“I have a donation fund for cases like these. I don’t refuse any animal care, even if I have to pay for it.”

“That bastard who hit her ought to pay every effing penny,” he growled.

She took in the passion on his face, his expressions shifting like the weather, and felt her heart inch open another degree, knowing what that helpless anger at injustice felt like all too well. So he hadn’t lost his passion for nonhumans in need. She slowed, settling her hand over his atop the dog, feeling the gripping tension coursing through his knuckles soften.

“Unless you saw his plates, it’s wasted anger,” she replied. “If there’s anything I’ve learned over these years, especially in this business, it’s that I can’t hold the Rhetts of the world accountable most of the time. But I can make a difference for this dog. If I pour my energy into something meaningful…” She shrugged. “Then I offset the bad things, just a little. And that’s the single defining purpose that has sustained me.”

His eyes bounced back and forth between hers. He chewed his cheek thoughtfully, and, crap, she’d always loved that adorable mannerism, so boyish. She was glad to see it still lingered in his dimple when so much of the boy she’d known seemed to have vanished. He extricated his hand from hers, leaving her skin cold and empty—His finger tucked a wisp of hair over her ears, trailing gunpowder that, with one spark, would ignite. She sucked in a breath.