“Does anyone have a voice left after that amazing finish this afternoon?” Suzanne Belton paused with her hands over the keyboard. Her TV set was still tuned to the post-NASCAR race program where three commentators in easy chairs dissected Dylan Hargreave’s win at Indianapolis in a heart-pounding, mouth-drying squeaker. She was excited. Thrilled.
Almost a hundred crazed Hargreave fans were online celebrating and she knew more would show up in the next couple of hours as they hashed over the race and particularly their fave driver’s win. Sunday was Suzanne’s only day off and the day she allowed herself to relax into the online persona that was so different from her usual self.
Beside her screen name, “TopFanGirl,” the cursor blinked. Waiting. But what could she, as president of the Dylan Hargreave online fan club, offer that much smarter commentators weren’t saying right now? She imagined TopFanGirl, the woman she could be from the safety of her screen. What would TopFanGirl say? “I was screaming like a maniac, jumping up and down. I swear, when he came around that last turn my heart was banging so hard I thought I’d burst right out of my bra!”
Not that anyone would notice if she did. Her modest chest size was just one of the many unremarkable things about Suzanne in person. But TopFanGirl? She was bigger than life in every way.
Dy’sGuy posted immediately. “Our guy brought home the bacon. I’m popping one of his sponsor’s beers. Anybody going to join me? I’m toasting Hargreave here.”
“'Toast Kendall, too,'” she immediately typed. “He doesn’t win without his woman’s kisses.” She’d started the fan site when she watched down-to-earth actuary Kendall Clarke and wild man driver Dylan Hargreave fall deeper in love from Sunday to Sunday. The whole love story made Hargreave the romantic spinster’s driver of choice, definitely.
She was about to type a response when the doorbell rang. Odd—it never rang. If any of her all-male family dropped by, they let themselves in, and her friends were the kind who phoned first. Puzzled, she set Antonio, the injured tabby cat she was treating, down on the floor, careful of the cast on his paw, and walked to the front door, brushing cat hair off her jeans as best she could.
Through the wavy glass on the front door she could see a man’s silhouette holding a small animal and she grit her teeth. She only got one day off. Could people not respect that?
She pulled open the door trying to look stern and forbidding. Her office hours were clearly posted. “Yes?”
She immediately had to raise her gaze. The man before her was tall. And big. He looked to be 6’4” and was built like a linebacker. He had a craggy, weathered face and two deep grooves down his cheeks that would be dimples if he were smiling. Dark hair and eyes the color of an autumn leaf: a mix of green, brown, cinnamon and flecks of gold. He looked determined, but not panicked as he would if it was an emergency. She wanted to tell him to go away and come back tomorrow. But then she saw the black and white bundle of fur in his big arms—a border collie puppy. The pup was trembling so hard its ears where flapping.
And her heart turned over in her chest.
“I’m looking for Dr. Belton,” the guy said, his voice as rich as Columbian coffee.
“You found her.”
His eyebrows rose in surprise but she was used to that reaction. When she’d bought the country vet practice and the house from an older male veterinarian who wanted to retire, she’d come across plenty of skeptical expressions. And words.
But she liked to think she’d proven herself in the last year. She might only be twenty-nine and on the slight side, but she was good at what she did and was a lot stronger than she looked. She’d lost a couple of clients, but gained more when word got around that she could heal animals.
“I thought you’d be older.”
What on earth was she supposed to say to that?
“What’s wrong with your dog?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. I just got him. I took him out with the herd and he had some kind of fit.”
She reached out a hand and touched the trembling head of the puppy. “What kind of fit?”
He stood there and she thought he was trying to decide whether to waste his time with her or not. Frankly, she didn’t care, except that she wanted to help the dog. It was her biggest weakness. She’d never been able to turn away an animal in distress. She’d had a gift for getting along with animals ever since she could remember. It extended to every animal she’d ever come across except the human male.
The human male on her doorstep shrugged large shoulders. “I don’t know. He went rigid and made weird noises and then he started shaking like this.”
She bit back a smile. “Do you mind if I take a look at him?”
“That’s why I came. I hope you don’t mind me bothering you on a Sunday, but I was worried about him. None of my other dogs have ever done anything like this.”
She reached out for the dog. As the big man passed him over, she slipped her hand under the animal’s chest. Its heart was racing and along with the trembling, he was panting.
“I don’t want to frighten him by taking him to my clinic. We’ll take him into the house.”
Antonio limped by and glared, but the dog in her arms was either blind or pretending he hadn’t seen the cat.
She talked softly to him, her hand soothing him as she carried him into her kitchen where the light was best.
She settled herself in the big old rocker by the stove and swung slowly back and forth, still talking softly. She felt his rigid muscles relax and his heart slowed. Soon he was asleep on her lap.
The Marlboro Man look-alike stood staring down at her, unimpressed. “Aren’t you going to examine him?”
“I’m pretty sure I know what’s wrong with him. Mr.?”
“Sorry. The name’s Sargent. Jim Sargent. Call me Jim.”
“Well, Jim, there’s nothing much wrong with your dog. I think something scared him.”
She looked up at him, and wondered how he was going to take her diagnosis. “I’m pretty sure your dog had an anxiety attack.”
“An anxiety attack?” Jim looked down at the girl sitting in the oversized, creaky rocker with his puppy flopped out and snoozing in her lap. He knew she was a woman but the way she sat there, looking up at him with her long black hair in a ponytail, no makeup he could see and big apprehensive-looking blue eyes, she looked a lot more girl than woman. She also seemed, with her soft voice and shy demeanor, more timid than that damn fool dog.
She nodded, apparently failing to notice the sharpness in his tone.
“Dr. Belton—" and how could a woman so young possibly be a doctor unless she’d bought her diploma off the Internet? “—what do you think provoked this attack?”
“It’s difficult to say, really.” The puppy stirred in its sleep and made snuffling sounds. She smiled down at the animal. “Where did you get him?”
“From the same breeder I always use. He’s nine weeks old and I did the same thing I always do. Took him down with the others so he could watch the older dogs herding my sheep and get the hang of it.” He scratched his head. “This is my fourth collie and I’ve never seen anything like that.”
“He’s been separated from his family, don’t forget. Everything’s new to him.” She looked down at the dog and said, “Sometimes a dog ends up in a home where there’s too much going on. Too much noise, boisterous conduct, loud voices,” she shrugged, “and he feels like he doesn’t fit in.”
As he watched her, he saw pink creep into her cheeks and she glanced up swiftly. “Sorry. I get a little carried away with psychology sometimes.”
He pulled a chair over and sat in front of her so he didn’t feel like he was towering above her and she wouldn’t have to look up. “Sounded to me like you weren’t talking about dogs just then, but about people.”
She chuckled. “I grew up in a house of rowdy men. My mother died when I was young and I was left with a father who didn’t know what to do with a girl and four older brothers. I think they all decided that if they treated me like another brother, everything would be fine.” She shrugged. “I guess I have some sympathy for this little guy.”
He had no idea how to respond to the sad story of her life, so he gestured to the dog. “Can you help him?”
She locked gazes with him and he saw a surprising hint of toughness in her.
“That depends on you.”
“You want me to fix the dog?” Jim wondered why he’d bothered driving all the way out here.
“I’ll need your help.”
“Dr. Belton—” He stopped. He felt ridiculous calling this wide-eyed, slip of a thing a doctor but she didn’t correct him or offer her first name. Must be an attempt to appear older and more authoritative. He was about to tell her he was wasting both their time when he saw the useless dog snuggle deeper into her lap and begin to snore gently. He shook his head.
“That’s the first time that dog’s slept since I got him three days ago. He howls all night, won’t eat, and then today he had that fit. I should probably return him to the breeder.” In fact, he wondered now why he hadn’t done that first instead of running up here worried his new dog was sick. Because you’re soft in the head, that’s why. The dog was so little and helpless. He didn’t want it to be a failure so early in life.
She didn’t look at all surprised. “Those are all symptoms of anxiety.”
“Okay. What do I do?”
“I’m going to lend you a book I want you to read. I’ll keep him here overnight and watch him. Tomorrow, we can talk further.”
He had a million things to do tomorrow. There was fencing to mend, a meeting with his banker and all the sunup to sundown jobs of a lone rancher. And now he had to read a book.
Suzanne shifted so she could stand, carefully lifting the sleeping dog and replacing it on the rocker. The pup stirred but didn’t wake. “I’ll get you that book.”
While she was gone, he looked around the kitchen, a big, cozy space that didn’t look like a lot of cooking went on in it. He’d seen no sign of any family and if anything the kitchen seemed to be a workspace. A computer hummed on the kitchen table. He glanced at it idly and noticed the word “NASCAR.”
As a southern boy he’d always followed stock car racing, but lately he’d been too busy. He wondered who’d won today and found himself scanning the screen, only to realize this wasn’t an official site, but a fan site.
Intrigued, he read a few of the comments and gathered that Hargreave had won today. Always good news. Hargreave was one of the drivers Jim admired. He worked hard, didn’t whine when things went wrong, shared glory with his team. He was a good guy. Seemed he had some passionate fans out there in cyberland. Jim cracked a smile when he read the postings by somebody calling herself “TopFanGirl.” She sounded like a ball of fire. Instead of a photograph of herself, she’d posted a picture of Hargreave kissing his girlfriend right before a race. One of his trademark moves.
He wondered whether Dr. Belton ever posted to the site… With a little glance toward the door she’d exited a moment before, Jim took her mouse and scrolled through the posts on the screen. He whistled under his breath at some of the comments made by TopFanGirl—especially the last one. As he finished reading to the bottom of the screen, he noticed the blinking cursor and glanced at the screen name beside it. He blinked and looked again. TopFanGirl? Meek and mild Dr. Belton was TopFanGirl?
He tried to superimpose the persona he’d just read onto the body of the doctor—imagined her screaming and jumping in excitement, busting out of her bra…
Suzanne really needed to organize her library she realized as she searched for the book on nervous dogs. An avid reader, she’d never been much of a librarian. Romance novels bumped against veterinary textbooks, which sidled up to mysteries and mingled with biographies and history. The only sports books she owned were a few NASCAR books and her childhood favorites were represented by her well-loved old collection of Nancy Drews.
Ah, there it was, behind an old cookbook. The Nervous Dog, written by a renowned British dog trainer. She ran back to the kitchen with the book. “Sorry to keep you waiting. It took me a while to find.”
Jim Sargent was standing straight and tall beside her kitchen table. A glance at the puppy showed he was still sleeping peacefully. Exhausted from overstimulation and panic, poor little guy.
The dog’s owner seemed larger than before somehow. Maybe because he was focusing on her this time instead of the dog. His chest seemed broader, his legs longer. And there was an expression in his eyes that stalled her steps. It was the same expression bulls got during mating season. If he’d flared his nostrils and pawed the ground she’d hardly have been surprised.
For a moment Suzanne stood there transfixed, her heart suddenly jumping in her chest, their gazes locked. She felt herself starting to blush, which was ridiculous. She was a medical professional, not a shy girl. She pulled herself together and dropped her gaze to the book in her hand.
“Um…If you get time to read the first three chapters, that would be great. I think they will explain what’s wrong with your dog.”
He reached and took the book from her. Turned it over in his hands. “Thanks.” It came out strangely high-pitched—he cleared his throat and said in a deeper voice: “I will.”
“Here’s my card. I’ll bring him by your place tomorrow and take a look at how he interacts with your animals.”
“Sure. I’ll write down the directions.” As he walked past the chair, he dropped a hand and ruffled the sleeping puppy’s head.
His boots echoed down the hardwood floors leading to the front door. As he reached it she said, “I forgot to ask. What’s his name?”
Jim Sargent turned. “Whose name?”
“The dog’s?”
“Oh.” He looked completely blank as though he hadn’t bothered naming his dog, then he grinned at her, looking like a particularly clever plan had just blossomed in his head. “It’s Dy.”
“Die?” What a terrible name for a nervous dog.
“No. Dy. Like Dylan Hargreave. The NASCAR driver?”
She couldn’t believe it. “You named your dog after Dylan Hargreave?”
“I’m sure you know that a one-syllable name is best for working dogs. They get to know their names and it’s easier to tell all the dogs apart that way. And I picked Dy because Hargreave’s a solid, nose-to-the-grindstone driver. That’s what I’m looking for in a ranch dog.”
“Oh.”
He opened the door and then turned back. “You follow racing at all?”
“Yes. I’m a big fan.”
“Really. Whose your driver?”
She swallowed. “Dylan Hargreave.”
His smile was probably the most charming thing about him. It lit up his whole face. “Really. Now there’s a coincidence.”
Jim didn't start laughing until he was inside his truck and pulling out of her long drive. He'd been about to admit he didn't have a name for the dog yet, when the name Dy had flipped into his brain. The look on her face had been perfect when he'd told her he'd named his dog after her favorite NASCAR driver. Wide eyed and stunned. And interested. The way a woman looks at a man she finds fascinating.
Then, as he turned off to the highway, he stopped laughing abruptly. What was he doing? Trying to flirt with his dog's vet? And what would he do if she became interested in him?
He had no idea, but for some reason, he wanted to find out.
Dr. Suzanne Belton, her card read. At first glance, Dr. Suzanne Belton was easy to overlook. But now he knew her secret. Inside the meek young vet lived a fun-loving woman called TopFanGirl. The combination intrigued him.
When he pulled into his own drive, he wished he'd thought to leave some lights on. The place looked deserted. Unoccupied.
Lonely.
His family and friends all thought he was crazy to move out here from Texas, where he'd worked in a big city, at a big-company job making good money, and where he'd thought he had his life all figured out. He was going to marry Lorraine, the marketing director in the company where he was vice president of engineering. They'd been together almost four years and he had felt the urge to settle down, to move to the next level.
When he'd asked her to marry him, he'd talked about his dream to one day move back to a small town and a quieter life. Lorraine had pretty much freaked. Her idea of the future was a fancy house in town and all the culture, travel, shopping and good restaurants she could cram into one life.
Maybe what they'd had was love, but if so it wasn't strong enough to withstand their different dreams. After they broke up, going to work was hell for both of them. And he started to wonder, if his dream was to live in a more rural setting, what he was doing in Dallas?
So he quit. Took the money he'd been stocking away for the wedding and house they were planning to buy, sold his condo, and bought this spread out in North Carolina. He loved the countryside, the people and the quiet. Though lately, he'd begun to wonder if it was a little too quiet. It hadn't helped that his sister had dubbed him "The Lone Rancher."
But when he got out of his truck he remembered all the reasons why he loved it out here. He could smell the earth. Hear the contented sound of his sheep. And no sooner had the echo of his truck door slamming reverberated than three dogs came streaking toward him. Sly, his first Border Collie reached him first, and he gave her an affectionate pat. "Your little buddy's okay," he told her. "Just scared. Oh, and he has a name. Dy."
The dogs seemed to accept the news, and trotted along beside him as he made his rounds for the night.
Inside the house, he flipped on the lights and booted up his computer. Thanks to the Internet, he was able to maintain friendships and stay in contact with people all over.
He'd never done much socializing around racing, though.
He tapped away at keys until the Dylan Hargreave fan site appeared. Couldn't hurt to check it out….
He wondered if TopFanGirl was online.
The crying woke her. Suzanne was awake immediately, already out of bed and heading for the corner where she'd set up little Dy's sleeping area. She'd put an old, warm blanket down, a hot water bottle and a clock to mimic the beating of a heart. She'd also put in some chew toys. But Dy wasn't fooled. A cooling water bottle and a clock wasn't his mom, and chewing rawhide wasn't going to make him happy.
She got on the floor with him and crooned. "It's okay. You're safe here." He whined softly and crawled into her lap.
"Let me tell you a story," she said, "about the man you're named for." A small pink tongue licked at her hand and she took that as agreement that he wanted to hear about Dylan Hargreave. "One day, a brave but lonely NASCAR driver met a woman who was completely different from him. She was quiet where he was bold. Cautious where he was wild. And sensible where he was crazy." She sighed and cuddled the pup closer. "Before every race, he would kiss her. At first I'm pretty sure it was a publicity stunt. Or she was simply the closest woman around. But the darndest thing happened. He started winning races. He went from a string of mechanical failures and bad luck to pretty much the opposite. People got to calling Kendall Clarke his lucky charm." She sighed, and she could have sworn little Dy sighed along with her. "I used to watch them every Sunday and you could see when the kisses started to get more real. Now I hear they're planning to get married."
The old farmhouse creaked around her and the baby in her arms shifted to find a more comfortable position. "I think that's the best way to fall in love. With someone unexpected. The way I see it, neither Dylan nor Kendall is as good alone as they are good together. They're a team. Just like you and the other herding dogs will be when we get you trained up."
While her hands stroked the silky coat, her mind wandered to Dy's owner. Big, strong and confident, he was certainly the opposite of her. But she thought there'd been a moment that could definitely be a case of opposites attracting, that second when she'd come back into the room with the book and he'd looked at her for the first time as a woman instead of a girl trying to do a grown vet's job.
She had no idea what had caused him to look at her anew, but it had been a thrilling moment.
It didn't take the puppy long to fall back to sleep, but it took Suzanne hours. At about 2:00 a.m. and the hundredth time she'd replayed meeting the man who'd brought her his dog because it was having an anxiety attack, she realized the truth. She was attracted to him. And had no idea what to do about it.
Suzanne had worried a little that a puppy would aggravate the splinted cat—but in fact, Dy was afraid of the Tabby, and Antonio was too haughty to pay any attention to a barely weaned puppy. So her morning was peaceful enough. She had some paperwork to catch up on and then her rounds. Being a country vet meant that often she had to go to her patients. She kept office hours for the smaller animals.
But she also needed to find some time to work with Dy and his new owner to turn this bundle of nerves into a confident herder. The thought of the pup—currently trying to crawl inside an old fur-lined boot in the hall closet—bossing around sheep and cows made her smile. But she knew his instincts were strong. In fact, as the day wore on she began to think the dog would be a great herder-he spent most of the morning trying to herd her. If she left the kitchen, he woke from his nap and followed her, his baby claws clicking along behind her. It was as though there were an invisible leash connecting the two of them. She always tried not to get too attached to her patients, but this little guy was really tugging at her heartstrings.
She had planned to leave Dy behind when she was called out to deliver a foal on a nearby ranch, but the dog whined so piteously that she ended up taking him with her, grabbing her old boot in case Dy got lonely.
When she got out to the ranch, the mare was in good shape, straining a little and sweating, but the foal was well-positioned and for a first-time mother, the horse seemed calm and resigned. The mare would be doing most of the work, so there was little for Suzanne to do but wait. But there was another animal that needed more attention….
"I've got a puppy I'm trying to acclimatize to large animals," she said to Bill Mailer, who was standing over the laboring horse like an expectant father. "Do you mind if I bring him in?"
He shrugged. "No. I guess not."
When she got back to her truck, Dy acted like he'd been abandoned for weeks, squealing and licking at her hands. "Come on, then, you can come with me."
It was three more hours before she was able to drive the pup back to Jim Sargent's. She found Jim stacking bales of hay in his barn. There were sweat patches on his plaid shirt and some pieces of straw clung to his jeans. He straightened slowly and smiled, bringing a warmth that spread over her limbs like the dawn.
"I thought maybe you'd kidnapped my dog."
Suzanne shook her head. "Dy's fine. He's sleeping, that's all."
Jim's lazy interest sharpened to alarm. "Are you hurt?" He stepped closer, and with his long legs it didn't take much time for him to be standing beside her, pointing to her knee. "You're bleeding."
She glanced down at herself, a little embarrassed. "Oh, that's not blood. It's afterbirth." It was such a small patch of fluid she hadn't even noticed. "Bill Mailer's mare just foaled."
"You birthed a horse?" He looked impressed.
"Believe me, the horse did most of the work."
She couldn't think what she'd planned to say next. He was standing so close to her she could smell him, the leather and sweat and body heat of a working rancher. Dust motes hung lazily in the air before settling on the yellow bales. She thought she and Jim might have stayed that way forever had the silence not shattered with barking and snuffling as a pack of dogs invaded the space.
She laughed, greeting them all as they pushed up against her, sniffing and wagging.
She caught Jim grinning at her. "Do all animals like you?"
"Pretty much. It's why I became a vet."
"Hmm. So, how's my pup?"
"He's shy. Did you read the chapters in that book?"
"Sure did."
"What do you think?"
"Honestly? I'm not sure I've got time for all that conditioning."
"I think that Dy is very intelligent and he wants to please. But he needs calmness, he needs you to be clear about your intention, he needs gentle persuasion and he needs lots of love."
Jim scratched his jaw. "And then he'll stop being scared of sheep and start herding them?"
She wasn't going to lie. She never misled to her clients. "I don't know."
"Where is he now?"
"Sleeping in my truck. He did very well during the foaling, but he picked up on the stress. He's exhausted." In fact, he'd stayed well back from the entire proceedings, staying close to her boot. Then, after the foal was born, as it tottered to its shaky legs, the puppy had stuffed himself as far inside the shoe as he could get. It looked like the leather boot had sprouted a black and white tail.
Jim walked with her to her truck, the pack of dogs trotting along beside them. On the passenger seat all she could see was her old leather boot, and sticking out of the top of it was the back end of a sleeping puppy.
"I was planning to start acclimatizing him to your sheep, but he's had a pretty stressful day. Maybe tomorrow would be better."
"Sure."
"What time should we come by?"
"I'll be here all day."
"Okay. I'll come after my office hours."
He smiled down at her. "It's a date."
Her gaze snapped up to meet his. Her stomach did a funny flipping thing.
A date?
A date. As if, Suzanne reminded herself. She hadn't had a date in six months, and that was with one of her friends' husband's buddies who was in from out of town and they'd invited her along to even up the numbers. The trouble with being a country vet was that most people who lived out here were already married or a lot older than she was. And for the rest, it was hard to have romantic feelings for the woman who birthed your horses and vaccinated your cows. Even Jim Sargent, who seemed to be single, had looked a little taken aback when she'd shown up with afterbirth on her blue jeans. Which made it much more likely that he'd used the word "date" as a synonym for appointment.
As she headed down her dusty drive, she wondered if she should have come home to shower and put on a little make-up before heading to Jim Sargent's. But the idea was ridiculous-she'd never dressed up for a ranch visit before.
She changed her jeans and grabbed a quick shower before heading to her clinic hours. The vet who'd built the practice before her had converted an old barn into a modern veterinary clinic. She loved the space. It was modern and clean. Equipped for X-rays, surgery, and overnight stays.
Today was a slow day. Antonio's family came to pick him up and solemnly accepted the strict instructions for his care. He'd be back in a few weeks to get the cast off, but she bid him an affectionate goodbye. He acted like he had more important places to be.
She dealt with a rooster that had somehow mangled its wing, a dog who'd had part of his ear chewed off in a fight and finally an old farm dog who walked in with a baleful expression and a snoutful of porcupine quills.
After she and Dy ate dinner, she went to her computer. This was her usual time to check in with the fan club. Maybe it was silly, but she enjoyed her online social life, and she'd become quite fond of her fellow DyHard Fans.
As the president of the fan club, it was her job to screen each new fan club applicant. Today there were two new ones. A woman called Daisy, which might or might not be her real name, and a guy calling himself "The Lone Rancher." She smiled at that one. After approving both applications, she sent out welcome messages and then logged on to the site.
Mondays were often quiet, the big race was over and the drivers usually took the day off. Fans often did too, gearing up later in the week for the next race.
She liked to keep things light and fun so she'd instituted her Monday Question for those who showed up. The question was more a way for the Hargreave fans to get to know each other. This wasn't the most serious site out there. She tried to think of a good question. For some reason, she kept thinking, not about yesterday's race, but about how Dylan and Kendall seemed so happy. Maybe kisses really could perform magic.
Oh, what the heck. It was her site, after all. She'd ask whatever question she pleased.
"Okay, DyHards, here's tonight's question: If rumors are true, and Dylan and Kendall get married, do you think the kissing magic will continue? Will she still be his lucky charm? I gotta tell you, if a guy's kisses can bring me good luck, I'll hang him around my neck. So to speak."
She watched TopFanGirl's words appear and wished she'd asked something else. Then, almost immediately, she got her first reply. From The Lone Rancher.
“I think the right kiss from the right woman is always going to bring good luck. Course, I’m not married. As for hanging around TopFanGirl’s neck—maybe I’d better not go there on my first day on the site.”
She watched the words appear and couldn’t help smiling. Not too many of the guys on the site admitted to being romantics, but The Lone Rancher seemed comfortable with the idea of kissing and racing going together. He was even flirting a little, not that she encouraged that sort of thing. Exactly.
She typed back.
“So, you don’t think—like some of the guys on here (waving to Dy’s Guy) that Dy’s career success has everything to do with a great team and some lucky breaks and nothing to do with his relationship with Kendall?”
Dy’s Guy popped in. “TopFan, you are such a grrrrl. Hey, Rancher.”
Lone Rancher: “I think if a man’s honest, he’s looking for a woman who sees him as he really is and still wants him. Sure, Dy’s got a great team and it’s pulling together. He was always a great driver, but he’s improved, his team’s got faster and smoother. Maybe Kendall has nothing to do with that, maybe the kisses are just a publicity thing. But maybe she makes him better, not by kissing him but by loving him.”
As his words hit the screen, Jim wondered what was wrong with him. Even though his real identity was hidden, he was asking to get hammered by the men on this site. What had made him type such sentimental crap?
Then he read those words and realized he’d written them to Suzanne. He’d been thinking about her when he’d read that dog training book she’d lent him. And when he’d seen her today he’d realized that where he saw a puppy so scared of its own shadow it was useless, she’d seen the dog inside.
Where his former girlfriend had been perfectly happy with him so long as he’d worked at the right job and seemed to want the same stuff she did, when he’d revealed his dreams, she’d been shocked. He supposed he’d been just as floored to discover she had no interest in small town life and running a ranch. Maybe he was still adjusting to being a rancher, but he knew he was more himself here than he’d ever been.
As he’d read TopFanGirl’s question on the site tonight, he’d wondered: what did she see when she looked at Jim Sargent? And what did he see when he really looked at Suzanne Belton?
He saw past the vet pretty fast, though that was part of her. He thought of the odd moment in his barn when she’d been all woman instead of pure professional and he’d liked the fleeting vulnerability in her gaze. Then she’d blushed as he’d called their meeting tomorrow a date. He’d only thrown out the word as an offhanded, partly teasing remark. Although… A date with Suzanne could be interesting.
Something about her warned him that he’d need to take it slowly, though. She was cautious around him in a way she wasn’t when she handled animals. Trust. Like the book said. It was all about trust.
He needed to earn hers.
He’d go slowly, all right, but he couldn’t be blamed for talking to her online alter-ego about the joys of kissing—especially when she was the one who’d raised the subject.
“How’s Truman feeling today?” Suzanne asked. The question was for both the horse and his owner, though the horse was telling her through his gums (pink, excellent) and his belly (no longer distended) and his temperature (normal) that he was feeling much better.
Harland Corbett answered by saying, “He seems a lot better. No more pawing the ground or rolling around.”
“Excellent. Colic makes them miserable. Is he drinking?”
“Still not as much as usual.”
“Try a little applesauce in his drinking water. He needs to be tempted.” She patted her patient and then bent to repack her bag.
“So, I was wondering,” said Harland, sounding hesitant. “Do you play poker?”
She glanced up in surprise. She’d been his vet ever since she took over the practice and this was the first time he’d asked anything remotely personal. “I do, yes.” In fact, poker nights had been a regular Friday routine growing up.
“I have a little group that meets once in a while to play. Doc Greene, your predecessor, used to come. We play tomorrow night and I thought you might like to give it a try.”
“Thanks. I’d like to.” She guessed this was a kind of acceptance ritual—once more she was going to have to get used to being one of the boys.
Harland, a man of about sixty who’d inherited his farm from his father and hoped to pass the place on to his own sons, walked her to her truck. “This your new helper?” he asked when he saw Dy curled up in his accustomed spot on the passenger seat. His chin resting on the boot.
“I’m trying to get him used to farm animals.”
“Truman’s good with pups. He’s as gentle as they come and too lazy to put up a fuss.”
“Perfect.” She wasn’t sure what kind of horses Jim Sargent owned, so to be able to start with a gentle one was perfect. “Come on, Dy,” she said, opening his door. “Let’s make a new friend.”
The rumble of a truck coming down the drive had them all turning to look. To her surprise, it was Jim Sargent. He looked equally taken aback when he saw her.
“Afternoon, Suzanne. Just dropping off the skill saw I borrowed,” he said to Harland.
“Your timing is perfect,” she told him. “We’re going to introduce Dy to nice, gentle Truman the horse.”
She lifted Dy out and put him on the ground. His tail wagged and he happily greeted Jim then sniffed his way along behind Suzanne toward the field where the recovering invalid stood placidly.
Suddenly, Dy stopped dead in his tracks. He raised his head toward the massive gelding and then simply sat down refusing to budge.
“Come on,” Suzanne crooned. “You’ll like Truman. He’s a nice horse.” She picked him up and as she walked slowly forward, the puppy began to shake. His heart was racing and he was trying to crawl inside her jacket.
She stopped about five feet away. Truman turned to look at them. “What do you think? Isn’t Truman a nice horse?”
Dy’s answer was more eloquent than words. He peed on her.
Suzanne jumped back, but the damage was done. She was wet from her belly to her knees.
Harland tilted back the ball cap he wore against the sunshine and scratched his bald head.
Dy licked her hand in apology. And Suzanne said, “Good thing I always carry a change of clothes.”
“Can you wait till you get to my place? You can shower and change there,” Jim said.
“Thanks.” She was grateful not to have to enter Harland’s house in her current state.
“What am I going to do with you?” she asked Dy once they were back in her truck as she followed Jim to his place. “You’re a wonderful companion, quiet, clean—” she glanced down at her wet shirt “—most of the time. You’re a good listener. But what’s with you and horses? And where’s your herding instinct? You can’t only herd me.”
Dy wagged his tail.
When they reached Jim’s place, the rancher stood waiting. He opened her door for her and she hopped out and grabbed her bag from the back. After debating for a second, Dy followed.
Jim led her inside his one-level home which struck her as clean and comfortable but definitely lacking a woman’s touch. He led her through the kitchen, which had been modernized to include sleek granite counters, stainless steel appliances including an espresso machine, hardwood floors and maple cabinets. The living room was dominated by a flat-screen TV built on the same large lines as its owner. The furniture was the comfy kind, made for flopping on after a hard day.
He kept going, down a hallway. “Here’s the guest room. There are clean towels in the bathroom.”
“Thanks.” She showered, trying not to think of how oddly intimate it was to be in his tub. She dried and swiftly dressed in the old jeans and T-shirt from her bag and emerged to find Dy waiting for her in the hallway.
“I’m brewing a cappuccino, you want one?” Jim called from the kitchen.
“Sure.” She and Dy followed barista-like sounds to the kitchen where Jim handed her a thick blue mug, the top covered with a cloud of foam. “Mmm. Usually I have to drive fifteen miles into town for one of these.”
“Now, you can just come here,” he said, giving her one of his teasing smiles that set off fireworks in her stomach.
He finished brewing his coffee and then said, “So, what are we going to do about Dy the wonder dog?”
Business, right, that’s why I’m here, Suzanne reminded herself. “I was planning to start getting him near the sheep, but now I’m not so sure.”
“I think I’m going to have to change his name. No way Dylan Hargreave should be insulted that way.”
“Dy’s a wonderful dog,” she protested. “He’s smart and loyal, excellent company and a good watch dog.”
“Sounds like he’d make a good pet.”
She bit her lip. It was early days yet but she had a sneaking suspicion Jim was right. She couldn’t bear to think of Dy being sent back to the breeder, though, like a failure. “Let’s give him a chance. Relationships take time.”
He shot her an odd look. “I agree. Take it slowly. Be clear about my intentions. Give lots of affection.”
She nodded, impressed that he’d remembered her instructions so clearly.
When Suzanne arrived at Harland’s place the following evening for poker night, she suffered two shocks. First, she wasn’t the only woman in the room. Harland’s wife, Vivian, was sitting at the table with four other ranchers, counting out chips. Second, Jim Sargent was standing across the room. When he caught sight of her he sent her one of his slow smiles and walked over.
“How you doing?”
“Fine, thanks.”
“Has my dog had any more accidents on you?”
“Your dog’s fine.” She continued to stare at him. A beat passed. Her gaze didn’t waver. In fact, she narrowed her eyes slightly as realization dawned.
“What?”
“Does my sudden invitation out of the blue to join this poker game have anything to do with you?”
He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “We were short a player and I might have mentioned your name.”
“How did you know I play?”
He shrugged. “You mentioned growing up in a house of guys, seemed like something you’d have picked up.”
Wow. He’d not only listened to her, but he’d retained the information she’d shared. She was impressed. And the fact that he’d wanted her in his poker game suggested that he liked her. Of course, he also believed she could turn Dy into a herder. A possibility that grew dimmer with every passing day.
“Why didn’t you ask me yourself?”
“Not my game. It was Harland’s decision.”
“Good thing I cured his horse.”
“I hope you’ll still think it’s good if you get your butt kicked in poker.”
She smiled what she hoped was an innocent, guileless smile. What Jim didn’t know was that while she’d learned to play poker with her dad and uncles and brothers, none of them would play with her anymore. Said they couldn’t afford it.
Two hours later, Harland was good-naturedly saying the same thing. “You’re cleaning me out, girl.” He glanced at Jim. “You didn’t tell me she could play Texas Hold’em.”
“Must be beginner’s luck,” Suzanne said.
“Beginner’s luck, my ass. You’re a cold-hearted, calculating woman with a mind like a steel trap.” Harland sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. “You fooled me because you’re such a soft touch with the animals.” His words were severe, but the twinkle in his eye told her he’d liked being surprised by her skill.
She laughed, delighted that she’d won him over. Now that Harland had folded, the game was down to her and Jim, who she quickly discovered was her greatest competition. His face remained impassive to whatever happened, and nothing caused him to change the rhythm of his game.
The quiet in the room grew intense. They might all be amateur players, but they’d fallen into the spirit of the growing competition between Suzanne and Jim.
She thumbed the corners of her two down cards. Fish hooks. Her pair of jacks, along with the extra jack on the board gave her a set. Was it enough with the possible straight developing on the board?
It was impossible to tell from Jim’s face. He had no nervous gestures, no "tells" she could spot. He could be holding the TV Guide in front of him for all the emotion he showed. He looked at her for a long moment then called her bet.
He flipped over his hole cards. Suited connectors. Not just the straight. The straight flush.
She shook her head as her victory flipped to defeat. “Rivered.”
He grinned at her as he collected his winnings. “Maybe you’re my lucky charm.”
She shot him a sharp glance. How weird that he would call her a lucky charm; she’d just been talking about that very thing online. Luck—and kisses.
Jim didn’t seem to notice her look, though, as he scooped up his winnings and got up from the table. The others took his cue and started to head for the door.
“Glad to have another girl around,” Vivian Corbett said as Suzanne was leaving. “I hope you’ll come back. We get together about once a month.”
“Thanks. I’d like that.”
They all left together and it seemed natural that Jim should walk her to her truck.
“What are you going to do with your winnings?” she teased him.
“The 48 bucks? I think I’ll probably use it to show a girl a good time.”
She laughed lightly, but for some reason her heartbeat kicked up a notch. He was looking at her as though she were the girl he wanted to show a good time.
“Want to watch the race on Sunday?”
Jim watched Suzanne’s face in the dim light. Around them, trucks started up and the other poker players headed out with final laughing comments and waves. Suzanne pondered his invitation with the same seriousness she turned to everything, whether working with an animal or choosing her discards. “Where would we watch the race?”
“My place. I’ve got the biggest screen TV around. I’ll spend my winnings on dinner fixings.” The only other place to watch the race was the noisy sports bar in town and he didn’t think that was the place for a first date with Suzanne. He wanted to get to know her better, not fight to be heard above the noise of a bar and the boisterous opinions of a bunch of other amateur gear heads.
He was surprised at the relief he felt when she nodded and said, “Sure, I’d like that.”
“Come early and I’ll show you around my land. We’ll saddle up a couple of horses and take a ride.”
“All right. I’ll bring Dy. It’ll be good for him.”
“You do that.” He opened her door for her and watched her climb in. He liked the way she moved. Slim and compact, she wasn’t lushly built—but she was shaped like a woman and she moved like one.
He waited until she’d pulled out before getting into his own truck. He headed home in a hurry to get to his computer. He wondered if TopFanGirl would mention her adventures of the evening. The poker game she’d almost won.
She didn’t. But Suzanne was more effervescent than usual in her online persona.
“How did you become a fan?” he found himself asking TopFanGirl.
“My dad was a big fan. When I was little, Sundays meant Sunday school and then running straight home to watch the race. It was a family thing. I loved the speed, the noise, the action. Still do. You?”
All the online DyHards jumped in with their stories of how they became fans. He waited, wondering if she was watching for his response as eagerly as he’d awaited hers.
Suzanne was tapping away on her computer. Her house was quiet and Dy was sleeping happily in the corner. She had a mug of raspberry lemon tea at her side and a handful of racing pals hooked up electronically. All close friends she’d never in her life met. They talked sometimes of trying to get together for a race, but so far it hadn’t happened. She suspected most of them were quite happy to keep the distance between them. Probably every one of the DyHards would be different in real life than they presented themselves on screen. She was a perfect example.
She wondered what The Lone Rancher would be like. There was something about him that drew her in. Maybe because he seemed more interested in her than in the general racing forum she ran. She waited to find out how he’d become a fan and wasn’t very surprised to hear he’d grown up in the south, too, and it had been a family affair. His grandpa used to drive stock cars in the fifties, she discovered.
Then the talk online turned to the upcoming race. With his recent win behind him, Dylan Hargreave was getting a lot of press. Which, naturally, gave the DyHards lots to talk about.
“I can hardly wait for Sunday,” The Lone Rancher said.
Immediately her own excitement revved up. Sunday. When she’d be watching the race with Jim. Who was cooking her dinner. He’d acted pretty casual about the whole thing, but a day that included a trail ride, race watching and dinner had date written all over it.
“I can hardly wait, either,” she typed back.
She started when the snoozing Dy in the corner of her kitchen let out a growl and then his head jerked up out of sleep and he let out a volley of barks. The yippee kind from a puppy who’s trying to sound like a fierce, grown-up version of himself.
“It’s okay,” she soothed him. ”Probably just a skunk.”
Dy was not convinced. He scrambled across the hardwood kitchen floor, his barks growing increasingly hysterical.
Suzanne wasn’t a nervous woman, but she lived alone. She grabbed the baseball bat she kept in the kitchen closet just in case.
In the tiny gaps between hysterical barking, she heard a sound that was not made by any animal. It was the sound of human footsteps crunching on gravel.
Probably just an animal owner with an emergency, she told herself even as her grip tightened on the bat.
The front door flew open.
“Where’s my baby sister?” A voice bellowed from the front hall. Then, in a slightly lower tone, “Who are you? And could you quit your damn fool barking?”
“Dy, stop it now,” she commanded. “And Tucker, could you once in your life knock?” Suzanne asked, heading down the hall to greet her brother.
Her big, blond, scruffy brother pulled her to him for a rib-crushing hug. Then looked down at her and grinned, showing the front tooth he’d chipped years ago during a football game. Somehow the imperfection added to his appeal.
“You getting in some batting practice?”
She glanced down, realizing she was still gripping the bat. “I thought you were an intruder. In fact, you are.”
“Hey, I’m family. Family doesn’t knock.”
“I’m a 29-year-old single woman. What if I was—” She tried to think of something crazy she might do that would shock Tucker, and immediately channeled TopFanGirl. She opened her mouth to say exactly what she could be doing, but he’d already turned to stick his head out her open front door, yelling: “Sherry, honey, hurry up and come meet my sister.”
“It’s eleven-o’clock at night and you brought guests?”
“Just one. We’re passing through. Had to stop and say hey.”
Only now did she notice the duffel at his feet. She heard more footsteps on the gravel and in walked a woman who looked like one of the new country and western singers. Masses of loose golden ringlets, big blue eyes, hourglass figure and jeans so tight they’d need to be surgically removed. Her shoes were tall and the open toes showcased grape-colored nails. “Hiya,” she said. “You don’t look a bit like your brother.”
“No, he got all the looks in the family.”
“But you got the brains,” he reminded her of their standing family credo, where everybody’s skills and talents somehow balanced out.
“I think you’re plenty pretty enough,” the blond bombshell said. “You could be a knockout if you made more of your looks.”
Not knowing what to say to that, Suzanne invited them in. “I just made some tea, do you want some?”
“Sure, I’ll have some with my fried eggs and ham,” her brother said, making her laugh. She’d never known him when he wasn’t hungry.
“I’m on my way to a new job,” he said when she asked where he was going. “You’re looking at the new VP of IT for an upstart high-tech firm in Charlotte.”
“Congratulations!” He credited her with the brains, but Tucker had plenty. He was one of the smartest computer guys she knew. Which gave her an idea.
“While I’m cooking you breakfast at almost midnight, can you find me the real name and location of someone I met on the Internet?”
“Sure,” Tucker said. “Nothing easier. What’s the name of the dude you want to find?” He sat at her computer the way a virtuoso would sit in front of a piano.
She walked over and pointed to her screen. “I want you to find out who The Lone Rancher is.”
Tucker started typing while Sherry accepted a cup of herbal tea and promptly sat on the floor and played with Dy.
“You Internet dating now?” Tucker asked his sister.
“No. Not exactly.”
She had no idea why she’d asked him to check out her screen buddy, except for an odd intuition in her gut. Which was probably crazy—but she’d saved more than a few animals’ lives by listening to her instincts.
The ham was sizzling, the smell of toasting bread filled the air and she was about to break farm fresh eggs into the pan when Tucker said, “The guy’s a neighbor of yours, did you know that?”
She cracked the egg too hard and yellow yolk spattered everywhere. “What’s his real name?”
“He’s a rancher all right. His name’s Jim Sargent.”
She wasn’t sure whether she wanted to giggle, pump her fists in the air and shout “Yes!” or hide in her bedroom.
“He the guy you’re ‘not exactly’ dating?”
She blushed and grabbed for a wash rag. Then she grinned. Somehow she’d known it was him. He’d been flirting with her online. Playing games. Now he’d asked her to watch the race with him. “Maybe.”
“If you’re planning on Internet dating—or any dating,” Sherry said, “I could help you fix yourself up a little. Hope you don’t mind me saying, but you’re a lot prettier than you’re letting on.”
“Most times he’s seen me I’ve been working.”
Her brother explained to Sherry. “When she’s working she gets pretty messy. If it comes out of an animal, it usually ends up all over Suzanne.”
“I don’t even want to know.”
“You should listen to Sherry,” Tucker said to Suzanne. “She’s a modeling scout for a big agency. She knows about looking good.”
The idea of being a small-town Cinderella had absolutely no appeal. None. She looked at Sherry, so confident in her looks, and looked down at her own jeans and flannel shirt. Well, maybe the idea of being a small-town Cinderella caused her a tiny flicker of interest.
So, Jim was the Lone Rancher. It was one of those surprises that wasn’t a surprise. A shock that makes perfect sense when you think about it. She’d been online when he’d brought the puppy to her, and she’d left him alone for a while when she’d gone to find the dog training book. She remembered having trouble finding it so he was probably alone in the kitchen for several minutes. Certainly long enough to check out what was on her computer screen. And The Lone Rancher had shown up a day or two later.
She looked forward to her online chats with Rancher almost as much as she’d begun to look forward to her real life encounters with Jim. The fact that they were one and the same man was…exciting.
“When are you seeing this guy?”
“Sunday,” she admitted. “We have a date.”
“Well, we’ve got a couple of days built into the schedule, right, Tuck? Tomorrow, honey, you and me are going shopping.”
Suzanne wasn’t much of a shopper. She never knew where to go or what looked good on her. But shopping with Sherry was like being with a personal shopper, big sister and fashion bully all in one.
“First, we are going to buy you jeans that fit. Those baggy ones do nothin’ for your figure. Second, we are getting you some decent shirts that have color in them that flatters you. Third, I am going to teach you some simple make-up techniques. That nature girl look is fine, but even nature needs a little help now and then.”
“Please don’t tell me I have to get a perm. I got one once and I looked awful.”
“Of course it did, silly, your hair is perfect. Long and straight and shiny. Models are killing for that look. We don’t mess with perfection.”
“Oh.” Wow. She was doing something right. Who knew?
She’d been terrified she’d end up looking like a bad imitation of a country and western singer, but to her delight, Sherry seemed to understand her needs and stayed within her comfort zone. They bought two new pairs of jeans, tighter than any Suzanne had ever owned, but not lie-on-the-floor-and-suck-in-your-gut-to-get-them-on tight. And they were flattering, she had to admit. The new shirts were feminine, but still looked like her. And the makeup was so easy to apply even Suzanne could manage it in less than ten minutes.
When she looked at herself in the mirror on her way to Jim’s house on Sunday, she thought she looked exactly like herself. Only somehow better. Still, she was ridiculously nervous as she drove to the ranch; she got off at the wrong exit and flicked on the wipers by accident—twice.
But Jim didn’t do anything embarrassing like not recognize her when she got to his place, so she relaxed. If his eyes were a little warmer when he looked at her she put it down to pre-race excitement.
They rode around his land and she watched the sheep munching contentedly, watched the hawks circling, and forded a bubbling stream. Dy had made it no closer to the sheep and, in view of her new wardrobe, Suzanne didn’t feel like pushing it. So, he waited for them in Jim’s house, with her fur-lined boot to keep him company.
They were back in time for the pre-race highlights, sandwiches and cold drinks.
They sat companionably watching the race. Sometimes on the edge of their seats yelling encouragement, sometimes chatting during cautions and breaks.
Suddenly he said, “I have a confession.”
“Something awful? A deep dark secret no one else in the world knows?”
He shifted uncomfortably. “Pretty much.” He shifted again as though the couch were made of thumbtacks. “I saw your computer that first day. You had the DyHards fan site up. I know you’re TopFanGirl.” He looked more sheepish than Dy the puppy did after an accident. “I’m The Lone Rancher.”
She did her best to look horrified, then broke into a grin. “I have a confession of my own. I have a brother who’s a computer whiz. Since I own the site, he was able to track down your real identity.”
“You mean, all that time you’ve been flirting with me online, you knew it was me?”
“The last few days, yeah.”
“Huh. Kind of takes the fun out of it now we both know.”
“I guess so.” There was a pause. She was shy Suzanne but she was also TopFanGirl, she reminded herself. So she looked at Jim from under her mascara-darkened eyelashes.
“Maybe we could try flirting in person.”
Their gazes locked. Jim leaned over and kissed her slowly. She stiffened for a second, then relaxed into the wonderful feel of his mouth moving on hers. He drew back and looked at her, his eyes crinkling at the edges.
“What?” she asked.
“I’m letting you know my intentions.”
“Oh.” The memory of his kiss tingled against her lips.
He picked up her hand and toyed with her fingers. “When you gave me all that advice for Dy, I couldn’t help thinking it might work on a woman too. I have to tell you, Dr. Belton, your training techniques are very successful.”
She was so shocked her mouth fell open. “You used dog training techniques on me?”
“Take it slow, be clear about my intentions, show lots of affection. So, I moved slowly, and now I’m being clear about my intentions: I’m interested in getting to know you. Personally.” He shot her a sideways glance, “And I was just showing you affection.”
She chuckled. “I noticed.” She bit her lip. “I have to tell you, though, those training techniques may be working on me but I’m not sure they’re working on the dog. Jim, I can’t lie to you. I don’t think little Dy is ever going to be a herder. Dogs are like people. All of them are born with certain talents and characteristics. He’s a wonderful dog, but I don’t think I can make him the dog you want. I’m sorry.”
Jim didn’t look very disappointed. In fact, his eyes crinkled around the edges as his smile deepened. “I’ve rarely seen two creatures fall in love as fast and as completely as you and that foolish pup. I think he’s found his home. It’s not with me. It’s with you.”
She hadn’t had a pet of her own since the old family lab died back in high school. Somehow, she was always so busy with other people’s animals, she hadn’t had time for her own.
She’d had so much fun with the dog, had enjoyed the company and was already dreading the prospect of having to give him up. “You mean it?”
“Take him. He’s yours.” On the floor, the dog snuffled in his sleep as though in full agreement with the plan for his future.
“Thank you.” She hooked her free arm around Jim’s neck. “You know, affection is a two way street,” she said, pulling him down to her and bringing her mouth on his. This time they kissed for a long, long time. Something was happening on the TV screen. She could hear the excited blare of the race commentators, but just at this moment racing wasn’t the most important thing on her mind.
When they pulled apart their breathing was ragged and his eyes were slightly unfocused. “In case you were wondering about my intentions,” she said, “I’m interested, too.”
The End