Stables (Black Gulch Ranch #2)

8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Char

“Thanks again for hanging out with me today.” I wince as I follow Libby to the door.

She lets Paisley slide down her hip before setting her on the floor. “Of course! It’s not like it was hard.” Grinning, she yanks on her heavy Muck boots over her coveralls.

“Hope I didn’t get shit on your carpet.” She makes a point of looking down and around her feet.

I wave my hand. “Small price to pay for all of your help. My horses will be eternally grateful.”

As will I.

“Call me if you need anything. Please?” Libby pulls me gently into a hug. “And you better text me if you hear from that hot doctor.”

I let out a sigh. “Paisley is doing much better today. Besides, he’s old enough to be my dad.” My fingers trail over my daughter’s curly hair as she scampers past me.

Libby winks, then waggles her eyebrows. “Then call him ‘daddy’ and enjoy the ride!” Giggling, she dances backwards onto the porch.

“Seriously, though. Maybe you just need to have a rebound to put some distance between you and Matt. I bet he’d back off if you had a big, strong boyfriend like that giant doctor.” Her hands stretch up over her head, but then she brings them together and widens them to match her mischievous smile. “This long?” Her palms drift further apart. “Perhaps this?”

“Ha. Ha. Lotta talk from a virgin,” I tease her. “Do you have any idea how badly something that giant would hurt?” Laughing makes my ribs ache and my lip pulls tightly on its scab, but it still makes me feel better.

Her nose wrinkles. “Just because I haven’t bought the car, doesn’t mean I haven’t kicked some tires and revved some engines.” The pink tip over her tongue sticks out before she blows me a kiss and climbs into her truck.

Waving, I watch her leave the driveway before moving back inside.

“Mommy? Book?” Paisley follows me from the living room dragging her blanket and farm animal story. “Go-goats?” She balls her fist and rubs her knuckles over her eyes.

I bet she’s getting sleepy. Libby cooked up some simple alfredo noodles for us for dinner, with a pot of leftovers in the fridge.

We all ate until we were stuffed. A full belly makes me ready for bed too.

“Sure, baby girl. Let’s get ready for night-night, and I’ll read to you.”

I might be able to rest easy tonight after getting the text from the sheriff’s office that Matt was brought in.

It’s a pipe dream to think he’ll be locked up for long. I know better.

I learned that lesson the hard way the first time he sent me to the hospital.

He’s never gotten more than a slap on the wrist.

A ball of dread settles in my stomach. I’ll be looking over my shoulder until he finds someone new.

I pity the girl he sets his sights on next.

Paisley navigates crawling up on the toilet seat like a professional so I can brush her teeth and wash her face before bedtime.

Catching a cringe worthy glance of myself in the mirror, the nasty purple is starting to fade to a grisly yellow.

The only improvement I can feel is the fact I can see out of both of my eyes finally.

A clean diaper and set of pajamas, then we’re tucked in and snuggling over the cardboard pages.

“What does the cow say?” I point to the cartoon animal.

“Moo.” She draws out the sound.

“And what is this?” My finger rests over the long ears and whiskers. “Is it a duck?”

There’s no tricking her though. She has this book memorized.

“No. Bunny, Mommy.” She gives me an exasperated sigh and pushes my hand off of the picture..

“Of course it is. Silly me.” I fold the pages and set the farm story on the nightstand as she settles down between the pillows.

“I still love you, Mommy.” She grabs my thumb in her pudgy hand and gives me a wet kiss on the knuckle.

“I love you too, baby.” She’s so adorable with her dark lashes brushing her pink cheeks. I can’t resist just watching her sleep. How I got such a beautiful little girl out of the horrible man that’s her father, I’ll never know.

When I lean down and brush her temple with my lips, the heat of her skin startles me.

Shit. The fever is back. Not as bad as last night, but she’s warm.

Bundling the blankets around her so she doesn’t roll out of bed, I slip out of the covers as carefully as I can.

Fuck, my side still hurts.

I’m glad I didn’t put her Tylenol back on top of the refrigerator so I can reach it without stretching.

On my way back to my room, a knock on the front door startles me.

What the hell?

Ice runs through my veins. Is it Matt?

Where’s the pistol?

Going as fast as I can, I limp to grab it off of the top of the shelf.

That stretch hurt.

Another rap against the wood makes my heart race.

Panic flutters through me, and my hands shake as I get closer to the handle.

Please don’t be Matt.

Maybe it’s the sheriff?

But the dispatcher already texted.

They would have called, right?

I’m too short to look through the small peephole, and terrified to unlock the deadbolt.

My forehead presses against the smooth paneling, wishing I had a window close enough to sneak a peek.

“Who is it?” Damn. My voice cracked.

“Dr. McCullough.”

Not what I expected.

Fire courses through my chest as Libby’s words make a rapid staccato through my mind.

Hot doctor .

Over and over.

Stop. Take a second.

I’m standing here with a gun in one hand, and a bottle of medicine in the other.

What is wrong with this picture?

Sliding the pistol into the top drawer of the end table, I unlatch the heavy lock.

He looks different than last night. Jeans hug his thick thighs and he has on a blue t-shirt that looks like it was painted across his wide chest.

But topping it off is a black cowboy hat that almost covers his chestnut eyes.

Holy shit.

“Char.” He breathes out my name. “I hope I’m not intruding? I wanted to check and see how Paisley was doing.”

I feel silly standing here staring.

“Um, sure. I just got her down and noticed she was warm again.” Stepping back, I feel tiny next to him as he brushes past me.

“Has she been running a fever all day?” Clasping his leather bag, he moves near the end of the couch just inside the entry.

“No, she’s seemed okay this morning. It wasn’t until just now I noticed she was hot.” I watch him shift his weight.

Is he nervous?

He glances down at the floor, then toes off his cowboy boots. “I feel crappy that I didn’t take them off last night. I’m sorry if I made a mess.”

They’re twice as long as Libby’s and stick over the edge of the little mat I have next to the wall.

“Oh, you’re fine.” A surge of heat rises up my neck. “I mean, there wasn’t anything to clean up. Libby drags in literal shit, um, poop from the dairy.”

Dr. McCullough’s eyes narrow slightly, and his full lips purse beneath his mustache. “Is she here?”

Wait.

A chill runs through me as I become painfully aware of how much larger and stronger he is than me.

Taking a half step back, I bump into the table with the gun in it. “Um, not right now. But she’s coming back.”

His shoulders drop and his jaw loosens. “Good. You shouldn’t be alone.”

He looks relieved she might be here? I guess that might actually mean he wants me to have company?

That makes me feel a little better.

Until I realize where I’m about to lead him.

“Um. Paisley is in my room. This way.” Walking with as much confidence as my broken body can muster, I head down the short hall to the dark room.

Reaching into the bathroom, I flip on the light there to wash the bed in a soft glow.

Paisley hasn’t moved except to fling an arm out where I had been laying.

Dr. McCullough is surprisingly quiet as he follows me in his socks.

As if he knows he’s towering over her, he kneels next to the bed and drops his duffel to pull out his thermometer.

Paisley doesn’t stir when he swipes it over her forehead. “Much lower tonight,” he whispers.

After I measure out the medicine, he shifts to the side, still squatting next to the foot of the mattress and leaning his elbow on the comforter.

He reaches his arm out with his palm up and I put the bottle into his fingers without a word.

It seems so natural, like we’ve planned this out.

“Here, baby girl. Just a few drops.” Tilting Paisley up just enough to press the dropper to her lips, she sucks the Tylenol down without opening her eyes.

The sickly sweet cherry flavor probably helps make it easier.

“Good girl.” Dr. McCullough’s words may be low, but they resonate in me for some reason.

“She is.” I smoothe her wispy hair away from her forehead and push a pillow between her and the edge.

When I hold my arm out, he slips the bottle back between my fingers.

“Thank you.” I’m glad it’s dark enough that he can't see my burning cheeks.

I don’t think Matt ever helped me with her.

Pretty sure he didn’t want her. She took too much of my attention away from him.

Dr. McCullough stands, then leaves me lingering next to Paisley.

It’s an odd comfort knowing someone else is here who wants what’s best for her. I thought it’d only be that way with Libby.

If my mom was still alive, I know she’d be here.

Probably not my dad.

I set the Tylenol on the nightstand in case I need it, and limp my way to the living room in time to see the doctor pulling his leather boots on.

He’s turned away so I get a great view of the back pockets of his jeans.

And how well he fills them out.

Damn. Libby has me looking at him in a new light.

But not a bad one.

He stands, tapping his heel to get his pant leg to drop over his ankle.

Pausing, his jaw works, the muscle star bursting to his temple. “Char, um.” Clearing his throat he looks around my beige walls before his gaze falls back on me. “When is your friend getting back tonight?”

I’m frozen.

What do I say?

The truth? Or lie and say she’ll be here soon?

“Probably not until morning.” I admit.

His teeth grind and his nostrils flare over his dark mustache. “Look, I hope this doesn’t sound weird—” He starts, shifting his bag between his broad hands.

“—but I know that guy isn’t going to be locked up for long.” His eyes move to anywhere except on me.

Is my face that bad?

Yes. Yes it is.

“I expect Matt to be out quickly. He always is.” I’ve resigned myself to that fact.

Dr. McCullough grunts as his chin drops. His black hat blocks his face. “I have to go to the ranch in the morning. Your place is closer to it than mine. If you don’t mind—”

A flutter of panic races through my chest.

“—I was going to crash out in my truck at the end of your driveway.”

Relief washes over me. That wasn’t what I expected.

“My driveway? Why?” I blurt out the question before thinking.

“Well.” His palm waves through the air. “I’d be close. Just in case.” He lets the words hang between us.

Oh.

“If he comes back,” I mutter. The thought makes my stomach roll.

I don’t know if I’d survive Matt again.

Doubt makes the little hairs on the back of my neck stand up. “I, um. I didn’t ask for protection. I can’t pay you…” Or have anything to offer.

I’m not bartering myself.

He holds up his calloused hand. “I didn’t ask. I’ll sleep better out there knowing I’m doing something, than I did last night laying in my bed like a chicken shit,” he growls.

My spine stiffens. Does he pity me? “Am I a charity case to you?”

His eyes narrow until they’re two walnut colored beads peering from the shadows of his hat. “Hardly. When you get bucked off a horse, do you wallow in the mud, or take a hand to get up?” He steps closer, towering over me, but his voice drops. “Do you want me to stand by and watch you get trampled without lifting a finger?”

Before I can answer, he pulls away, shaking his head.

“If you don’t want me in the driveway, that’s understandable. There’s a wide spot on the road just past it I can see from. Either way, I’ll be out there.” His palm settles on the handle, then he swings the front door open.

The idea of being alone is terrifying.

“Wait,” I call after him before he steps off the porch.

His broad shoulders turn as he stops.

“Do you like coffee or tea in the morning?” I croak out.

His white teeth flash in the halogen glow of the deck light. “Either one.” Tipping his finger on his hat, he takes the last stair to the ground before striding to his Toyota.

“Thank you, Dr. McCullough.” It feels like a weight has been lifted from me knowing I have someone watching out for me.

“Please. Call me Dixon.”