A Cowboy's Christmas Reunion (The Boones of Texas 1)

Hunter nodded in agreement. “I know the feeling.”

Tripod yawned, stood and stretched, then curled back up in a ball on the desk. Hunter stroked the cat’s silky side, letting the animal’s reverberating purr calm him before answering the phone.

“How’s the sexiest man in the world?” Amy’s drawl was light, teasing. “Wearing your tight jeans and your jump-me doctor coat?”

He’d learned not to bite to her teasing. “How are you, Amy?” He clicked the end of his pen a few more times.

“All business this morning? Guess it’s hard to talk dirty at the office.” She sighed. “I’d be better if I was there with Eli. And you.”

“You coming through town?” He kept clicking the pen.

“I’m trying. You know I want to be there.” She sighed again. “I’d never miss Christmas with my baby if I could help it.” She paused, but he kept quiet. “But I’ve got a chance to ride in Vegas through New Year’s. Big show, you know?”

Amy spent more time with the cowboys on the rodeo circuit than riding in it, but all he said was, “I’ll let you tell Eli.”

She made that noise, that irritated, impatient sound she made when she wasn’t getting her way. He remembered that noise all too well.

“Don’t use that tone with me, Hunter Boone. I don’t need your approval or your permission.”

“I know.” He tossed his pen onto his desk and leaned back in his chair, staring up at the white insulation tiles of the ceiling.

“Good. You don’t know how hard it is, to live without the perfect parents and buckets of money just sitting around their big ol’ fancy house.” Her voice was shaking. “A gal’s gotta eat, Hunter.”

There it was. “How much do you need?”

“I don’t need a handout,” she snapped.

“You’re Eli’s mom, his family. It’s not a handout. It’s family taking care of fam

ily.”

The phone was silent for a long time. “You don’t miss me at all? Us?”

He didn’t say, “No, Amy. I don’t. I won’t. Stop messing with our son and grow up.” He’d learned not to have any expectations when it came to Amy—then there was no disappointment. But Eli was a boy—a boy wanting to believe the very best about his mother. Even if a lot of it wasn’t true. And now his mother was missing Christmas with him...again.

It tore his heart out to see his boy hurting. He was used to buying a present and putting Amy’s name on it, but he resented having to cover for her. It shouldn’t be his job to maintain a relationship between his ex-wife and his son.

“Dr. Boone.” Jason, one of his students, came running into his office. “Larry ate Hanna’s hair scrunchie again.”

“Hold on a sec, Amy?” He covered his phone. “Is Larry breathing okay?”

“Yes, sir. But he’s coughing a little.”

Hunter sat back, ran a hand over his face. Why Larry the emu liked eating hair scrunchies was a mystery. But they could be dangerous to the animal if they got stuck in his trachea. “Please ask Hanna to set up the ultrasound machine. I’ll expect her to assist in fifteen minutes.” Since he’d told Hanna several times to remove her hair accessories before she went into the pen, she would help him scan the bad-tempered bird and, if necessary, remove it from the bird’s long neck.

“Yes, sir.” Jason left.

“Still there?” he asked.

“I’m here, waiting. But I’ve got people waiting, too. I’ll call our son tonight.” And she hung up.

He was about to throw his cell phone against the wall when a soft “Dr. Boone” was followed by a knock on his office door.

He repressed an irritated sigh as one of the school deans entered. He stood, extending his hand to the older man. “Dr. Lee,” he said. “Nice to see you.”

“You, as well.” Dr. Lee nodded, shaking his hand. “I hear you have a procedure in fifteen minutes, so I won’t keep you. But I need your help. We have received a substantial donation from the Harper-McGee family—an in memoriam for their deceased son Nate.”

Hunter nodded. The Harper-McGees were one of the school’s most devoted supporters. The past five generations of Harper-McGees had earned their doctor of veterinary medicine degrees from UET’s College of Veterinary Medicine. Nate would have carried on that tradition if he hadn’t been killed in a car accident midsemester last spring.