“She’s evaluating his placement here in light of the truck accident three days ago.”
The protectiveness again spiked. His arms tightened. “It wasn’t your fault.”
She exhaled helplessly. “There’s not much I can do. The state’s his legal guardian, not me.”
He thought on that as she looked up his chest so that her chin rested on his sternum and her blue eyes finally glittered.
“Enough about that. You staying to eat? I put your momma’s chili recipe in the Crock-Pot.”
The sweet memory of his mother’s signature dish rolled over him, as did a pinch of sadness. He fingered a strand of her hair, twisting it around his pointer contemplatively. His momma would have loved to see Skylar again. He wished he could take her home and show her off to his folks—more importantly, show them that it might be finally working out. His parents would have been over the moon to see him happy. Toby’s string of excited texts, chiefly the one where he’d said It’s about f-ing time! stood as a stark reminder that his family had been rooting for him. He wished he could vanquish those pinches of grief that his parents were gone and that he still felt so often like a rogue electron charging through the air, looking for a stable atom to suck him in and hold him down.
Handsome’s ears perked toward him now, though he stood docilely. A gentle giant.
So close. He hadn’t been this close to a horse since Cimarron. His hand reached out reverently. He held it to the horse’s muzzle to make a greeting.
“Hey there, big fella.” Handsome sniffed, nudged it with his muzzle, then his ears began to perk in other directions and his nostrils relaxed. Travis smiled. The gelding was comfortable with Travis’s presence. He cupped the horse’s cheek. The warm, coarse-haired sensation washed over him. He pet the draft horse and let the familiar wonder roll over him, that same sensation that he’d always felt saddling Cimarron, barrel racing Cimarron, feeling Cimarron arch his neck over his shoulder to nuzzle him or, on an impish day, nip playfully at him to allogroom.
Skylar was smiling fondly.
“What?” he quirked a brow.
She cocked her head like a puppy and it was honest-to-God adorable. “I always loved how you’d talk to Cimarron, your voice all deep but sounding like a big teddy bear. Those little things are what I think I’ve missed the most.”
It was one of the sweetest things he thought anyone could say to him.
“That, and your middle-of-the-night ice cream visits,” she added on a wry laugh.
He grinned, but the reason for those visits soured on his lips. He’d made those house calls in a panic, to hold her after she’d whispered fearfully and tearfully through the receiver, afraid to wake her pops but desperate for someone to make her feel safe. He eyed the discoloration of the residual airbag still a soft blue on her cheek. He’d wanted to kill the bastard. If the man was finally dead and he not a gentleman, he’d find Rhett’s grave just to piss on it. He’d hated having to grit his teeth and bear it, feeling so helpless to help her. God, he could never tell her about his alcohol binges. She’d lose all respect for him.
“Fresh out of Ben and Jerry’s.” He notched up his chin. “But I got something else I want to talk to you about that I hope will put a smile on your face.” He pulled out the brochure he’d slipped into his back pocket.
She took it, eying it curiously.
“That job I don’t need?” she teased, flashing that naturally coy, wide-eyed smile that only stoked his imagination.
He grinned, standing upright now, letting his hand slide over her warmth to hook over her waistband and rest on the rise of her rear in her dusty leggings as if he had ownership. “It ain’t a job. It would be a contract for veterinary services and the use of some of your horses. Might require you to do some traveling, but you wouldn’t need to trade this job for that one.”
She furrowed her brow. Yup. He’d gotten her attention. She looked over the brochure more closely now. “Georgina Lopez Center for Mental Health Services, Physical Therapy, and Acute Trauma Post-Operative Care. Huh.” She flipped it over, perusing the back. “I read all about this on your V-Tech profile… What does it have to do with me?”
His grin pulled up higher as she reined in her words, though there was no mistaking the soft staining of blush on her cheeks. She’d scoured the internet like he had? Wanting to know about him as he’d wanted to know about her?
“Once it’s built, the budget accounts for ten therapy horses and a staffed veterinarian. You’d have to travel, but it would come with nice compensation. A lotta zeros on the end of that dollar amount.”
“And I’d work alongside you?” She looked up at him with a wondrous, welcoming smile—a glorious sight after all her little withdrawals—tapping the brochure against her other hand in thought. “I’ve been thinking about expanding my clinic and hiring Joshua to see patients here in my absence…”
“I parsed through your accolades, babe,” he admitted. “There ain’t no question that you would be perfect for this position. Dr. Lopez actually told me to check out your clinic, before I ran into you again. I hadn’t looked it up at the time, but if Lopez is already scouting you, I’d say you’re a shoo-in.”
“Definitely a yes!” She grinned and threw her arms around him exuberantly, as if this offered her something in him to finally latch onto. “It’s like our old plans.”
He smiled at her radiance. Cautious relief lifted his chest as his hands slid around her to hold her close.
“What’ll be your role? Your profile said codirector. Of what?”
He huffed this time as she strode into the tack room, moments later lugging out a saddle and bridle and carrying it to the paint horse in the nearby crossties, unable to tamp down the irony that he’d be the director of riding. He followed her and held his hand out to the mare, so similar to Cimarron, the horse he’d forsaken, who now lived out his days on the Legacy as Toby’s horse, getting Toby to the far reaches of the ranch where the trucks couldn’t drive.
“I’ll direct riding and codirect PT. I’ll be able to conduct surgeries and then oversee recovery, a comprehensive care approach. So many combat vets come home with far more wrong with them than just failed body mechanics. Pairing folks with horses isn’t just for muscle strengthening, it’s a tried-and-true mental health approach. And putting folks with musculoskeletal issues up on a horse is tricky business, too, but Lopez seemed to think I’d be good at it.”
“Hello, why wouldn’t you be a top choice? You’re an expert rider and clearly an accomplished doctor. Travis, this is amazing.”