Collision at Roosevelt Ranch Read online

  “It’s not bad,” Roxy added. “The tech will be in soon to cast it. Then you can get her home since she’s clearly in no shape to drive.”

  “Works for me.” He’d managed to drive his car to the hospital, but he’d definitely need to get a mechanic to look at the door . . . not to mention to find out if the unpleasant grinding sound it had made when in motion was indeed a bent frame or something less serious.

  Roxy pressed a few more buttons on the keyboard then started to walk from the room. At the threshold of the doorway, she paused and glanced back at him. “Did you really break her sister’s heart?”

  Sam clenched his teeth tightly together. “I think it was more of a mutual shattering.”

  She studied him for a long moment but only said, “Hmm.”

  Then Roxy walked out, leaving him alone with a drugged-out Haley and just one thought running on repeat through his brain.

  Haley thought he’d gotten even better looking.

  Hmm, was right.

  Five

  Haley

  * * *

  “I don’t need—”

  Her protest was cut off as Roxy shut the door of Sam’s SUV right in her face.

  “Help,” she finished, rather unnecessarily since she was talking to herself in the empty car.

  Sam rounded the hood, heading for the driver’s side, and she sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that day. The truth was Haley was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to collapse into bed, fall headlong into sleep, and pretend this day hadn’t happened.

  The driver’s door stuck for a few seconds, Sam playing tug-of-war with it until it popped open, the overhead lights of the cab seeming to spotlight the cast on her right leg.

  Yup. Broken.

  Just as Sam had said.

  Wonderful.

  How the hell was she going to get to work? Hell, how in the hell was she going to leave her house to get groceries or toilet paper? She lived miles from the center of town and—

  She was going to have to call her mother.

  Why did Fate hate her so much?

  “You okay?” Sam asked softly as he turned on the car and carefully backed out of the stall.

  “Great,” she said cheerily.

  Just freaking out about being isolated and her cupboards being bare, since she’d planned to go shopping tomorrow . . . or rather later today.

  Just cringing at the dressing down her mom was going to give her upon finding out that she’d been in an accident and hadn’t—gasp of all the freaking gasps—called her.

  Just feeling rubbed raw inside, not only from her injuries but because she’d lost a patient only hours before and then been in an accident.

  The SUV came to a stop, and fingers brushed over her forehead. “Your leg is hurting you.”

  No.

  Yes.

  “It’s fine,” she eventually answered.

  Haley was a bundle of tangled emotions and sensations—part adrenaline letdown, part throbbing pain from her ankle and head, part discomfort from the past rearing its fucking head, and all . . . regret.

  She’d lost someone under her care, that was the worst of it.

  But also weighing on her was the fact that it had been a decade, and she was right back where she’d started. Still mooning after her sister’s ex, her body irrevocably drawn to his, her heart softening despite everything that had happened with the previous men in her life.

  “It’s a quick drive,” he said and turned his eyes back to the road.

  Not one flicker of mutual attraction, not one word about her drug-induced declaration of his sexiness.

  Sam was gorgeous as ever, and he still thought of her as an asexual little tagalong.

  One that slammed on the brakes to avoid a deer.

  One that couldn’t work technology and succumbed to the blaring soundwaves of the Backstreet Boys by braking even harder.

  Le. Sigh.

  They turned right onto Old Creek Road.

  Sam flicked his gaze toward hers. “You’re at the Robertson’s—”

  Her eyes caught a flicker of—

  “Watch out!” she shrieked, pointing through the windshield.

  He slammed on the brakes, and the SUV came to a shuddering stop inches from a deer.

  That had jumped into the middle of the road.

  Again.

  Did all the ungulates in this area have a fucking death wish?

  She and Sam looked at each other.

  “Can we blame the deer now?”

  His lips twitched. “Yes, I guess we can.”

  The buck loped away, disappearing into the brush along the side of the road. After a moment, Sam cautiously accelerated and continued with his question, though this time he kept his eyes firmly on the road. “You’re at the Robertson’s old place, right?”

  She nodded, heart still pounding, and because she didn’t want to risk another Deer-gate, she also said aloud, “Yup. The second driveway past yours.”

  “Got it.” A beat of quiet then, “Backstreet Boys are still your favorite band?”

  Her groan made him chuckle. “No, for the record, my musical taste has miraculously expanded beyond boy bands,” she said. “I even like a few female pop stars now.”

  Now it was his turn to groan. “What about the classics?”

  “You mean those eighties hair bands you used to be obsessed with?” she teased, falling into their old, yet very familiar pattern—arguing about her horrible taste in music as compared to his completely different, albeit still horrible, preference. “Give me a fun, upbeat song on the radio any day of the week. It doesn’t have to be deep or soul-wrenching. I just need a slice of escapism.”

  He drove past his driveway, slowing down as he neared the one that led to her little ranch. She only had a couple of acres, the Robertson’s having sold off most of their acreage to a neighbor when they had retired, but the tiny bunkhouse had been the perfect size for her.

  Weekend DIY projects for the win.

  “And why did you need the escapism today?” he asked.

  Her heart squeezed. “I didn’t say I needed—”

  “You were listening to “I Want it That Way” at full volume. Fifteen years ago, that meant your boyfriend had dumped you.” He flicked on the signal and cautiously executed the turn onto her driveway, as though half expecting another deer to jump out at any point during the maneuver.

  Frankly, after their last two experiences, that wasn’t a criticism.

  Her own eyes were darting around, ready to reveal any deer kamikazes.

  “I wasn’t dumped.”

  “So, you and Brian are still together?”

  Her jaw dropped open. “How do you know about Brian?”

  “Maggie and I catch up every now and then.” A shrug. “Apparently, your parents really like him.”

  “Yeah, well, they really like any man who might potentially marry me and knock me up.” She sighed, reaching to unlatch her seat belt when Sam pulled to a stop in front of her house. “And not even in that order, as my mom stressed to me the last time I went over for dinner.” Haley affected her mother’s slightly shrill and very demanding tone. “I need more grandbabies, and it’s your turn to have them. I don’t even care if you have them without a husband.”

  Thanks, Mom.

  Sam winced.

  “Exactly,” she muttered, popping her door.

  “Hang on.” He hurried out of his side then reached into the back for her crutches. Moving around the front of the car, he opened her door and helped her out, steadying her as she got her crutches under her.

  He also had a knee scooter in his trunk, but considering her driveway was gravel, it wouldn’t be much help except inside her house.

  The crutches dug into her armpits, but she ignored the pain and took one faltering step in the direction of her front door. Between the uneven surface of the gravel and the leftover lightheadedness from the quote-unquote good drugs Roxy had given her, the wobble factor was legit.


  “Don’t hate me,” Sam said, after she’d managed one more shaky movement. He swept her up into his arms, letting the crutches fall to the ground. “I’ll come back for them.”

  Less than ten seconds later, she was at her front door and Sam was retrieving her keys from her purse, then she was inside her house and directing him toward her bedroom.

  Directing Sam Johnson to her bedroom.

  Yeah, get a laugh out of that one, universe.

  Gently, he set her on her mattress then straightened. “Want me to grab you some pajamas?”

  “God, yes,” she said and pointed to her dresser. “Top drawer.”

  She blamed the drugs for not remembering that was also her underwear drawer. As in, it was filled with loads of very skimpy thongs and lacy bras she’d bought in anticipation of the wedding night and honeymoon she’d been going to have with Brian.

  Sam pulled open the drawer and froze.

  Haley knew her cheeks were fire-engine red. “Just the shorts and tank top on the right.”

  He coughed. “Right,” he repeated, and a moment later he slid the dresser closed with a thunk before turning to face her. “Uh . . . should I call Brian?”

  Fuck. How many more times was he going to mention Brian?

  “Brian and I aren’t together, okay?” she snapped. “He fucked around with one of my good friends, and I broke things off.”

  Sam’s eyes narrowed. “He did what?”

  She made a disgusted noise. “It doesn’t matter. The only thing that does is that he’s not in my life, and I’m sure as shit not going to call him.”

  “Your mom?”

  The look she shot Sam should have eviscerated him.

  “Okay, so not your mom.” He crossed over to her. “Do you want me to call Maggie?”

  “Sam,” she said. “It’s nearly one in the morning, and my sister has three young kids. I’m not waking her up for a few stitches and a barely broken bone.”

  “You shattered your ankle.”

  She huffed. “Two bones. And they’re hardly shattered,” she grumbled. “The orthopedist didn’t even recommend surgery.”

  “You want surgery?”

  Her eyes rolled heavenward. “Of course not! My point is, I’m fine. It’s not serious. Telling them can wait until everyone has had a full night’s sleep.”

  “You were transported by ambulance.”

  “And whose fault is that?” she said, gesturing him to turn around. He did so, though not quickly enough for her to miss the remorseful expression on his face and then feel guilty in exchange. “I didn’t mean that,” she said, carefully working her scrub top up and over the bandage on her head. “The accident was just that: an accident. I was referring to the ambulance ride and how unnecessary it was.”

  “You were unconscious.”

  Her day got loads better because she unhooked her bra and tossed it to the side before slipping on her tank top. “Yeah. I get why you called.” A sigh. “I’m just not looking forward to paying the bill.”

  He started to face her again.

  “Stop,” she ordered, having already worked her pants down over the cast. “I’m half-naked over here.”

  Sam froze, face still pointed toward the wall. “Do you need money?” he asked after a moment.”

  “No,” Haley answered truthfully. “It’s not the money.” She slipped off her underwear then tugged on the shorts. “It’s just . . . embarrassing, I guess, my coworkers seeing me like that.”

  He considered her words for a long moment then said, “You still think you need to be invincible, don’t you?”

  Fuck.

  How did he always know?

  How was he always able to see straight into the heart of her and understand?

  “I’m decent,” she said, instead of answering him. “I’ll call Maggie in the morning. Would you mind leaving the crutches at the foot of the bed along with the scooter?”

  He rotated around. “I’ll sleep on the couch,” he said, moving over to help her adjust her blankets over her. “Just in case you need anything.”

  Now that sounded like an extra circle of hell, specially designed for her.

  “No, Sam.” She firmed her voice. “You’ve done enough already. Just leave the crutches and scooter then go home and crash. I’ll be fine.”

  He raised a brow as he bent over and leveled serious eyes on her. “So, what you’re saying is that you want me to go home and worry about you being here all alone? Worry so much that I’ll toss and turn and—”

  “You’re laying it on thick.” Exhaustion was creeping at the edges of her vision, and the one thing she really wanted to do at that moment was sleep, not argue with Sam.

  He held up his phone.

  “Either I stay on the couch or I call Maggie and wake her up.”

  Eyes drooping, Haley rolled her head to the side on the pillow and glared up at him. “Blackmail is how we’re playing this thing?”

  “Less blackmail and more making you see sense.”

  “Po-tay-to. Po-tah-to,” she muttered. “Fine. You’re on the couch, but only for tonight and because if you risked driving down to your house again, you’d have to navigate the deer gauntlet.” Her lids blinked closed, and she had to force herself to focus. “Extra pillows and”—a wide yawn—“blankets are in my closet.”

  “Sleep now, Haley Bear,” he said, brushing a kiss to her cheek. “I’ll find them.”

  A decade ago, the kiss would have filled her with equal parts joy and liquid hot embarrassment. Such a painful crush she’d had.

  But tonight, she was too tired to do anything aside from snuggling into her pillow and murmuring, “That nickname is seriously the worst.”

  Sam’s chuckles chased her mind as sleep sucked her under.

  Six

  Sam

  * * *

  Sam woke with an aching back and cramped legs.

  Groaning, he stretched and rolled over then shot to rapid alertness as he nearly toppled off Haley’s couch. He’d forgotten where he was.

  And that was on Haley’s ridiculously small love seat.

  He pushed up to sitting and extended his arms over his head, tilting his head from side to side to work out the kinks.

  Damn, he was getting too old to sleep in places that were not his bed.

  Light streamed in through the windows, indicating it was well past his normal wake-up time of dawn. He stared out the clear pane of glass, enjoying the unobstructed view of undulating hills all colored dark green. The snow had melted, and spring was just around the corner.

  Soon, he’d be spending almost as much time on the ranches helping with cattle as he did at the vet’s office.

  Luckily, he’d managed to hire another vet. Although Michelle would only be working part-time after coming back from maternity leave, Sam felt lucky to have wooed her over from the clinic in Campbell, a neighboring town.

  Even though he loved seeing his human and domestic animal clients on a daily basis, his heart was truly with the larger livestock. There was something about the cattle and horses and, in rare cases, the bison, that drew him in.

  Because they were generally less understood? Or just a bigger puzzle to solve? Or maybe even because their cases challenged his brain more?

  Yes, to all.

  But also, it got him out of the office and into the fields. He could feel the wind in his hair, the sun on his skin, and smell the various, though not always pleasant, scents.

  Sam stood and picked up his phone. No missed calls overnight, that was good. He’d been so exhausted by the time he’d finally settled on the couch, that he worried he might sleep through an emergency.

  Thankfully, no emergencies were to be had.

  He sent a quick text to the night staff to check on Dexter then made his way into Haley’s kitchen to rustle up some breakfast.

  The rustling itself ran into a hiccup approximately two seconds after opening the fridge. As in, it was almost empty—a bottle of ketchup and a jar of pickles the only oc
cupants. Swinging the door closed, Sam pulled out his phone and started making a list of the groceries Haley would need.

  Milk. Bread. Cheese. Fruit. He wondered if she still liked bananas. When he’d been with Maggie, Haley had eaten them in near inhuman quantities. He drifted around the kitchen, pulling open cupboards in search of cereal or rice or some type of food that could sustain her.

  Aside from a few packets of oatmeal, the space was bare.

  Either she didn’t cook at home, or she was in desperate need of a grocery run.

  Sam sighed. That grocery run was going to be a lot harder now that he’d broken her leg.

  He added a few more things to his list then turned to head down the hall. He’d peek in and see if she wanted him to grab anything else. But just as he’d walked through the doorway, his feet skidded to a stop. A bulletin board that he’d missed the first time hung near the door and conveniently at eye level was a notepad titled “Groceries.”

  Tearing off the top sheet, Sam grinned when he saw the first item on the list was bananas, written all in caps and underlined twice. So, she still liked them . . . and also there were so many juvenile jokes his mind wanted to make over her love of the yellow, phallic fruit.

  But he was mature and shit, so he stifled his inner twelve-year-old and made his way on quiet feet to Haley’s bedroom.

  Sam was extra glad for his stealth when he poked his head in and saw that she was sound asleep, her eyes closed, her lips forming an O as her breaths came slow and steady.

  God. She was beautiful.

  All lean curves and porcelain skin, peaches teasing the creamy color. Her hair had lightened as she’d aged and was now more platinum than golden yellow, and her eyes . . . well, when they were actually open they were a shade that always reminded him of puffs of clouds trailing across the clear sky. Not just a flat shade of blue, but with little zigzags of gray and navy and . . . he’d never seen any like them.

  Somehow, without him noticing, Haley had transformed into a goddess.

  Who would have thought the tiny spitfire who’d trailed him and Maggie around would have grown into . . . her?