A Cowboy to Call Daddy Page 4

  “I came to get you this morning, but you were already gone.” There was a hint of accusation.

  “The airline delivered my bags to the Lodge while I was working yesterday.” She pointed at the tennis shoes sitting side by side against the wall. “I walked.”

  “Just make sure there’s no scorpions in them before you put them on.” He sipped his coffee, his gaze fixed on hers. “They tend to climb all the way inside to rest.”

  “Good to know.” She glanced at her tennis shoes and wondered if they were already inhabited.

  “Miss Caraway, do you have an assignment after this one?”

  She was no longer thinking about scorpions. “What do you have in mind?”

  “I could use a bookkeeper.” He nodded at the box on the table and the two still waiting for her attention on the floor at her feet.

  “You could,” she agreed. “But—”

  “There would be more to it,” he cut her off. “I’d like you to work with Fester.”

  She gripped the mug in her hands, slowly turning it in a circle. “I have no experience with horses, Dr. Boone.”

  “Archer.” He ran a hand over his face and sat in the chair opposite her. “I know you’ve never worked with animals before. There’d be a learning curve. But you’re smart, your eyes...” He stopped, clearing his throat and taking a sip of his coffee before trying again. “You’re smart. Fester seems to respond favorably to you on his own. That’s a start—I assure you. But I can show you a few things that might help. Just until I can determine what he wants and needs.”

  She sat back, her mug forgotten. What about her eyes? Nope, she didn’t care a thing about what he thought of her eyes. “You and Fester aren’t close?”

  He sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “No, ma’am, we are not. He barely tolerates me, but he knows I’m the one with the food. I admit, he fascinates me. I’m an animal behaviorist, Miss Caraway, so studying and learning an animal’s...bonds are important. You and Fester have a connection—something he’s had with no human since he came to us five months ago. I’d like you to help him find his place here, his herd. And I’d like to study the process.”

  She met his gaze. He was sincere. And intense. She drew in an unsteady breath. “I can’t. Thank you.”

  “Can’t isn’t a philosophy I subscribe to, Miss Caraway.”

  She bit back a smile. She appreciated his determination. But he wouldn’t feel the same when she was a Monroe again. “Dr. Boone, I’m afraid things might get a bit more complicated.”

  He frowned. “Why?”

  Because I’m lying to you about who I am. She swallowed, choosing another truth. “My children are arriving today.”

  His frown increased. “Children?” His surprise was obvious.

  She nodded. “I have two.”

  His frown sharpened, his cup spinning in his hands. He opened his mouth, closed it, then said, “Surely your husband—”

  “My personal life is my own, Dr. Boone.” She straightened in her chair. “I informed you only so you’d understand my answer to your offer.”

  He continued staring at her, frowning.

  He could frown all he wanted; she wasn’t going to change her mind or apologize for having children, for crying out loud. Besides, she couldn’t stay. She wasn’t here to help him...she was here for her father.

  The review board meeting was in two weeks. And in those two weeks’ time Eden had to have the information that would allow her to support her father’s wishes. Once she’d gained his support, she’d be out of her basement cubicle and into her father’s good graces—where she belonged. Something she’d been far more enthusiastic about before meeting Archer Boone, his sister and Fester.

  “I apologize for prying.” Archer’s gaze was no less intense, but his frown had faded into something softer, something vulnerable and searching.

  “No apologies necessary.” Her voice wavered. He needed to stop looking at her like that. She needed to keep a level head. “Isn’t there some sort of specialist that can see Fester? Surely there are people far more qualified who could help him.”

  He sat back, stretching his long legs out in front of him and crossing them at the ankles. “There are, but he didn’t respond well to the two who visited.” His smile was tight. “One went home with a horse bite bruise on his thigh. The other said Fester should be turned out to pasture. Or destroyed.” He shook his head, his attention wandering out the window. “He’s too young, too spirited, to be written off. I’ve seen the damage that a horse can cause, but...I’m not ready to give up on him.” He spoke carefully, as if his mind was already searching for possibilities.

  Eden stared; she couldn’t help it. He was lost in thought, determined to find an answer. What she wouldn’t give to hear his thoughts out loud. He wanted to help Fester, wanted the animal to be happy. He cared, deeply. Yes, he was a little rough around the edges, but he was direct—not rude necessarily. And he was incredibly handsome. So far everything she’d learned of the unexpected Dr. Boone was good. Which, considering her purpose, was bad. It would be easier if he’d been flagrantly misspending grant funds or his work ethic was suspect or his facility was dangerous or out of compliance. None of which was the case. Worse, she found herself respecting his single-minded, detail-oriented, fiery loyalty to his work.

  If he ever used that undivided focus on a woman... She shivered, snippets of her dream all too vivid. The shudder that ran along her spine was unexpectedly delightful. No no no. She needed more coffee. Or a long run. Or something. Why her mind kept detouring into the bedroom when it came to Archer Boone was a complete mystery.

  “Problem is, he won’t work with anyone.” His gaze locked with hers. “He pretends people don’t exist...” The unspoken “except you” hung in the air.

  Eden refused to take the bait. What he wanted was impossible. Besides, the Fester Archer spoke of wasn’t the same horse who’d walked her home and hugged her. Her Fester had taken care of her, sought out her company, talked to her. She couldn’t believe she was the only one Fester would warm up to.

  “Just like a child, Dr. Boone,” Eden murmured, focusing on her papers before she changed her mind about helping Archer with his wayward horse. “Keep them busy and they stay out of trouble. Leave them idle and that’s when the trouble starts.”

  “Exactly. And it’s Archer. Fester has been through a lot, Miss Caraway.” Archer stood, slapping his cowboy hat against his thigh. He paced from the window and back before stopping directly in front of her.

  “I’m sure you’ll find someone to help you.”

  “I’ve tried.” He shook his head. “I’m disappointed you won’t help me.”

  She looked up then, frustrated by his choice of words. It would be easier to say no if it was just a job. But to Archer, this was so much more. “I’m an accountant, Dr. Boone. That is my job. And considering how little time I have left here, I should probably concentrate on the job you hired me for.” Her fingers fell to the turquoise stones, seeking calm. Keep it together. She had legitimate reasons to feel guilty. Turning down his request to help with a difficult horse wasn’t one of them.

  He stared at her for some time. His pale gaze drifted, traveling over her face, her hair and her neck. His attention lingered there. And Eden sat frozen, her skin going warm.

  He cleared his throat and nodded, leveling an almost hostile glare at the piles in front of her. “You do that, Miss Caraway,” he bit out, slapping his hat against his thigh again, making her jump. He leveled a hard stare at her and left, slamming the door behind him.

  She sat, stunned. All that because she’d said no? Looks be damned, his temperament was no better than Fester’s. She already had two children; she didn’t need more.

  She stood, carrying her coffee mug to the small break room down the hall. She added a heaping amount of sugar and creamer before heading back to her o
ffice. She lingered over the pictures that lined the hall. Newspaper clippings, magazine articles, ads, fliers, programs and several certificates honoring Dr. Boone, the refuge and the important work being done here.

  Several of the refuge horses had gone on to help out as therapy animals, some were companion animals, while others stayed right here, working on the ranch. Her guilt increased. She knew the refuge would probably survive without the grant funds, but they’d likely mean cuts. Cuts for the horses, like Fester. Or Archer’s staff... She tore her attention from the wall and returned to her desk.

  What did her father know that she didn’t?

  She sighed, rolling her neck and sipping her coffee. She placed the mug on the edge of the desk and moved to the window. Constant motion. Man, dogs, horses and some cattle. No one was idle or hesitant about what needed to be done.

  There was one large barn that fed into a series of open sheds, made up of stalls. At the end of the sheds, smaller pens branched off. Some looked like small tracks with a large wheel in the middle. Others resembled small mazes, with chutes and gates. Like the ranch archway, the structures were made of thick beams and stone. While functionality clearly took priority, there was no denying the buildings blended seamlessly into their surroundings—in harmony with one another.

  Archer strode toward a long open shed with several stalls, on a mission. He paused, smiling at the small gray-and-black dog following at his side. The dog barked, circling Archer, his stubby tail wagging in obvious excitement. Archer laughed, his smile easy—and beautiful. There was a sudden tug in her chest, a long-forgotten ache.

  She turned back to her work. Time wasn’t going to wait for her to recover from her momentary weakness. Archer Boone may be handsome and oddly fascinating; he was also firmly in the no-go zone. Considering she was lying to him about who she was and what she was doing here, the chances of them having any interaction once she’d left were slight to say the least.

  But his refuge, his work and the good he did was—as far as she could tell—irrefutable. He was no-kill, finding homes for those he could and keeping those he couldn’t. He rehabilitated not only the animals’ bodies, but their spirits. Not to mention the wildlife he’d taken in and relocated. From an injured bobcat and a red-tailed hawk unable to fly to a three-legged deer, Archer was hell-bent on taking care of them. And his paperwork, as disorganized as it was, offered no red flags.

  Her mother had always championed the refuge. When review time had rolled around, she’d believed in the refuge’s vision and fought to support it. And if Renata was right and she really meant to create an endowment for the refuge, how could Eden play a part in ending that?

  What was her father’s real motivation?

  She had so many questions. And no answers.

  Bottom line, the questions shouldn’t matter. She had to find something to take before the board to substantiate all the reasons Boone Ranch Refuge should not be awarded funds. Even if she was beginning to have doubts.

  * * *

  ARCHER GLANCED BACK at the refuge administrative building again. The stone building rested on a slight butte over the rest of the refuge. He’d put it there so, even on those rare days he was trapped at his desk, he could see what was happening outside.

  Now he was outside, staring at the building. For the six or seventh time this morning.

  She’d said no.

  He’d laid it out there, told her he needed her—Fester needed her. And she’d said no.

  He was angry. And disappointed.

  The crunch of gravel drew his attention to his cousins, Deacon and Toben.

  “Hey, Archer.” Deacon sauntered up, his hat tipped forward on his brow. “That little roan that came in yesterday? She’s coughing.”

  “She’s isolated?” he asked.

  “The four of them won’t separate,” Toben said.

  Deacon shrugged. “We tried, but we figured—since they’ve been together this long—parting them would upset them.”

  It was the right thing to do. If one was sick, they were likely all sick, so he’d treat them all. They were in sad shape. “Are they still in the south holding pen?”

  Deacon nodded.

  “I’ll head there now.”

  “She’s a pretty little thing.” Toben’s voice was unexpectedly soft.

  Archer smiled. “Once we get her healthy, she’s yours.” It was important for the staff to connect to the horses. Horses were social animals, and highly intuitive. If they knew a human loved them, it boosted their confidence. And these horses needed a whole lot of support right now.

  Toben laughed. “I wasn’t talking about the roan, Archer.” He shook his head. “I’d be hard-pressed to keep a clear head with something that soft and sweet working next door.”

  “You need to find a hobby that doesn’t involve skirt-chasing,” Deacon snapped.

  Archer followed his gaze to find Eden Caraway standing on the front porch of the administrative office. She stretched, arching her back before leaning forward on the porch railing.

  Archer scowled. She should be working, not distracting his staff. He agreed with Deacon. Toben couldn’t keep a clear head around any attractive woman—which was, as far as Archer was concerned, Toben’s greatest weakness. Women were just people. And Eden Caraway was...just a woman. He cleared his throat, grappling with the effect this woman had on him. He frowned, tugging at his shirt collar and focusing on his anger instead of the curve of her neck or the swell of soft curves he found all too distracting.

  Fester whinnied.

  “Damn.” Deacon sighed. “That horse has got it bad. Pretty sure he’s stayed penned because of her.”

  Archer agreed, watching the large black horse with interest. Fester was doing everything in his power to grab Eden’s attention, prancing along the fence line, nickering, whinnying. He smiled in spite of himself.

  “Look at that,” Toben murmured, equally impressed with Fester’s little display.

  His irritation flared. Poor Fester. He had no idea his affection was one-sided. But Archer did, and he was sad for the horse. And fuming. Eden had no idea what a gift Fester was giving her. “Too bad Miss Caraway doesn’t seem to care about Fester.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Deacon said.

  Archer froze, glancing back at Fester. Eden had made her way, smiling, to where Fester waited at the fence. When she was close enough, she held her hand out, letting Fester blow and nuzzle it. She moved forward then, standing on the fence so she could rest her arms along the top beam.

  “He’s just eating it up,” Toben said. “Wonder what she’s saying.”

  Fester nudged Eden’s clip from her hair, letting her long hair fall around her shoulders. Archer watched, a strange tightness pressing in on his chest. She laughed, the sound ringing out and stirring a flare of hope in Archer’s chest.

  “You should talk to her about—”

  “Miss Caraway is here to get the books in shape. Then she’ll be on her way.” His words were a reminder. It didn’t make sense to be hopeful when it came to this woman. She had her own life, one that had no room for him—or his horses.

  “When are you heading in to the hospital?” Toben asked.

  Archer sighed. He worked part-time at the local veterinary teaching hospital. His extensive experience with exotic animals made him the resident expert on everything that wasn’t a cat or dog. “Shortly.”

  His current patient, a poisoned cockatoo, was almost recovered, his feathers returning to their normal bright white. But the bird was finicky about being handled and seemed to tolerate Archer best when it came to taking his meds.

  He also needed to confirm that Mrs. Ballencier was bringing in the lion cub she’d inherited from some eccentric uncle. He wanted to convince her that finding the cub a permanent home—one prepared to accommodate the size and needs of a full-grown male lion—was h
er only option.

  As much as he enjoyed cases that offered him a challenge, there were times he’d gladly resign his position to work full-time at the refuge. This was where his heart was.

  But Toben’s question wasn’t about Archer’s responsibility to the vet hospital. He suspected it had to do with Eden Caraway. Once Archer was off premises, Toben wouldn’t have anyone intercepting his attempts to charm the woman.

  “She’s leaving next week.” Archer shot his cousin a look.

  Deacon groaned. “Don’t make her more appealing than she already is.”

  Toben’s laugh grated on Archer’s nerves.

  “You know she’s an actual person? Here for work?” He glanced at the woman carrying on a conversation with Fester. “It is possible she has no interest in you.”

  “It’s possible. But highly unlikely.” Toben nudged Archer, winking.

  Archer glared at him.

  “Oh, come on, Archer. Just because you’re a monk doesn’t mean the rest of us are.” Toben shook his head. “You’re gonna have a hell of a time catching up to your brothers if you don’t get to work soon.”

  Archer’s glare didn’t waver until Toben had disappeared around the end of the shed.

  “He’s a dick,” Deacon said, clapping Archer on the shoulder.

  Archer nodded at his cousin. Deacon had lost his wife and daughters in a car crash two years before. Since then, he’d been wandering, working a few months here and there, helping Archer when he felt the need to plant roots. Unlike Toben, Deacon kept to himself, stayed out of trouble and had a way with horses. Archer understood Deacon, liked him. Unlike Toben.

  But he understood few people. That included the rest of his family. He didn’t need anyone telling him what to do with his life. If, and it was a big if, he ever found a woman who sparked his interest—romantically—there was no guarantee he’d want children. He knew his limitations. A wife, children, emotional entanglements, were things he had a hard time imagining in his future. He was fine as he was.

  Lucky barked, drawing Archer’s attention.

  He glanced down at the dog’s eager expression. “You can bite him,” Archer offered. “He may be family, but his head is firmly up his ass.”