Chapter Two

 

 

Michelle returned to the kitchen and glanced out the window at the thick snow that was still falling. She picked up the monitor and turned the little video screen on. The mare in the barn was restless, and Michelle could see where she had kicked up straw against the walls of the stall when she laid down and got back up again. As she watched, the mare kicked at her belly and swung her head around to look at her swollen sides. The horse was young, and this was her first foal, so Michelle had no idea how she would react to another life suddenly appearing in the straw at her side.

“Great idea, George, breed the damn mare, head back to the rigs, and leave it to me to worry about foaling her out.” Michelle cursed her absent brother for the millionth time.

She turned her attention back to the monitor in time to see the mare lower herself heavily to the bed of straw. Even on the grainy monitor, dark patches of sweat were apparent on the mare’s neck. She set the monitor back on the table and checked on the black dog by the door one more time before she pulled on her still damp coat and crammed one of George’s thick toques on her head.

The force of the wind stole her breath when she stepped out of the lee of the house. The snow was over her knees and some quickly found its way into her boots. Doggedly, Michelle plowed through the snow toward the barn. She was relieved when her hand found the rough wood of the corral fence, and she followed it to the barn. She flicked on the lights as she stepped inside. It seemed quiet after the raging wind outside, even though the old building creaked and groaned as the force of the wind hit it.

Michelle made her way quietly to where she could see into the buckskin mare’s stall. The horse was down in the straw and stretched out flat on her side. Her tawny coat was dark with sweat, and her sides heaved with the strength of the contractions. Michelle stayed quiet, not wanting to disturb the mare, just be there in case she got into trouble. The woman settled herself on a bale of straw and pulled her jacket more firmly around her. Still cold, she snagged a wool cooler hanging nearby and wrapped it around herself as well.

It took the mare another thirty minutes of labour until her water broke with a gush. Michelle sat up straighter and waited. The sac and the foal should make an appearance within twenty minutes, or Michelle would have to call Mary back and see if Doc could make it out. She pushed the thought of the new vet to the back of her mind. Within ten minutes, the shiny membrane of the sac protruded from the mare, and a tiny hoof pushed against the opaque surface. The mare heaved again, and more of the foal slid into view. The tiny hoof inside the sac showed its soft rubbery bottom, complete with tiny frog as it pushed through the membrane.

“God damn it,” Michelle swore as she got to her feet and unlatched the stall door. The foal was coming backward, a breech birth. “Just freaking marvellous,” she muttered.

She laid her hand on the mare’s haunch and moved her tail aside to check if both feet were showing. She let her breath out through her teeth at the sight of two little hind feet and two hocks laying side by side. So far so good.

“C’mon, little horse, one more push, and we should have it,” Michelle encouraged the mare. “We need to get your baby out, so he can breathe.”

Michelle threw her gloves into the straw and grasped the slimy hind legs of the foal and waited. When the mare convulsed with the next contraction, Michelle pulled with her, and the foal slid wetly out into the straw. Michelle tore the tough skin of the caul away from the foal’s nose and face. Then she got to her feet and stepped out of the stall. The buckskin mare raised herself up off her side and peered back at the foal lying steaming on the straw behind her. Michelle held her breath, waiting for the mare to realize the foal belonged to her. A throaty nicker came from the mare’s throat, and the foal struggled and kicked his way free of the caul. The buckskin heaved herself to her feet and moved to nose the small body in the bedding, soon her tongue was licking him clean and dry. Michelle allowed herself a small sigh of relief. She slid back into the stall with a length of binder twine in her hands and spoke softly to the mare. The horse paid her no mind, and Michelle trailed her hand from the mare’s shoulder to her hindquarters and lifted the heavy afterbirth which was still attached and hanging out onto the floor. She caught the heavy caul and tied it up to the mare’s tail, so it wouldn’t get stepped on and pull away from the mare, leaving a piece of it still attached inside. Once the afterbirth was up out of the way, Michelle left the stall again and leaned on the door to watch the momma and baby get to know each other. The buckskin pushed the foal with her nose, and the foal attempted to get his legs underneath him and stand. On his third try, he managed to scramble up on his stilt-like legs, only to fall in a heap. The next time, he had better luck, and the mare pushed him with her nose toward her flanks. The baby stuck his nose under her flank and found the udder. Michelle held her breath. This was the moment when some first time mothers objected strongly to the foal groping around her swollen and tender udder. The sound of slurping and the mare’s tongue licking the foal’s butt was music to her ears. His little tail twitched as he ate his first meal. Right now, she needed a hot drink, even though she’d have to come out later and make sure the baby had his first poop and passed the meconium out of his system. The first bowel movement was sticky, thick and dark. If he didn’t pass it, the colt would need an enema.

Michelle left the pair to settle and flicked the lights off as she left. She pulled her toque down further over her ears and squinted through the heavy curtain of snow, trying to see the glow of the porch light. The veils of wind-whipped snow obscured any chance of her actually seeing the light, so Michelle put her hand on the corral fence, and using it as a guide, headed in the direction she knew the house was. She came to the end of the corral and could make out the bulk of the garage just ahead of her. Stepping into the lee of the building she paused to catch her breath and wipe the snow from her face.

“Almost there,” she muttered through cold lips. “Stupid snow storms,” she added as an afterthought.

Michelle struck out from the shelter of the garage with her chin tucked down on her chest. The corner of the house should be right in front of her. The wind howled fiercely, and snow devils whirled everywhere, throwing biting bits of ice into her face. Her feet found the steps of the back porch first, and Michelle thankfully grabbed the snowy railing with her right hand. The drifts were thick on the broad steps and made it hard to get footing. Michelle fought her way up the stairs and missed the top step. She pitched head first into the big drift on the porch between the steps and the door. Michelle floundered in the snow as she tried to find some purchase for her feet in the sifted snow. Her breath stuck in her throat as her flailing hand was caught in the grasp of a strong gloved hand.

“George, is that you? What are you doing home? Is the rig shut down?” Michelle gasped as she used the extended hand as an anchor and emerged from the snow.

She got to her feet and pushed the snow laden toque back from her eyes and swiped her wet hair out of her face. Her eyes widened in surprise as she looked up at the tall figure of a man who was definitely not George. The porch light behind the stranger made it hard to see his features, that and the fact he had a hat pulled low over his face and a scarf wound around his neck and lower face. Who the hell is he? A small jolt of fear seared through her. This was definitely not someone she knew. Maybe somebody stranded by the blizzard?

“Michelle?” The man’s voice was barely audible over the wind. “Is this the Wilson place?”

“Do I know you?” Michelle peered up at him through her snow crusted lashes. He knew her name and whose ranch it was, so there was no sense standing out in the storm. “C’mon into the house. I need to get out of this wind.”

Michelle opened the back door and shook the worst of the snow off before stepping into the blessed warmth of the mud room. The tall stranger followed her in. He slapped his Stetson on his thigh to knock off the crusted ice and snow and unwound the long scarf from his neck. Michelle turned from hanging up her wet jacket and took in the man’s seal black hair and startling blue eyes. I would definitely remember if I knew this guy. Michelle licked her lower lip and ran her hand through her wet, tangled hair.

“Are you lost, or do you live around here?” Michelle queried him. I wish! She added silently.

“I just bought the Chetwynd place, over the coulee,” he said, a smile warming his face.

“The Chetwynd place.” Michelle paused, as the pieces fell into place. “You’re the new vet?”

“Cale Benjamin.” He stuck out his hand.

Michelle automatically shook the proffered hand. Her brain was in overdrive. Damn Mary, she could have warned me he was gorgeous.

“You’re the fancy horse vet from up Calgary way.” Michelle’s voice sounded stern and disapproving even to her ears.

Cale’s smile faltered a little, and a small frown creased his forehead. “I do some equine work up that way, yeah.”

“I thought a guy like you would be living in the big city, not out here on the bald assed prairie. Not a lot of opportunity to make big bucks on ranch horses and cattle.” Michelle couldn’t seem to stop herself from being rude.

“I’m not a city guy.” Cale grinned. “My parents ranch down near Nanton, so I’m used to the bald assed prairie.”

“Huh.” Michelle turned to the stove and set the kettle on the burner. “Want some tea or coffee? You must be cold.” She remembered her manners at last, and her grandmother’s voice sounded in her inner ear. Any folks is always welcome at this table, especially in a storm.

“What about that dog you called Doc about. Where is she?” Cale hung his polar fleece under jacket on the back of a kitchen chair.

Michelle swung around from the stove, and her gaze immediately caught on Cale’s hips, which filled out his jeans just the way they should. She swallowed hard and dragged her gaze back to his face. Cale’s gaze burned into her, and Michelle lost any thought in her head except that she really wanted to feel his lean muscular body against her and to run her tongue over his sensuous lower lip. A deep smile creased Cale’s face, and he cleared his throat, breaking the spell hanging in the air between them. Michelle shook her head and turned back to the stove, embarrassment heating her cheeks.

“She’s in the front hall, by the door.” Michelle indicated the door to the hall with her hand and lifted the whistling kettle off the burner.

She poured water into the teapot and covered it with a knitted cosy before following Cale into the darkened hall. She found him on his knees beside the dog. The pitiful thing was now mostly thawed out and emitting a decidedly toxic odour.

“Oh, my word, something must be rotting off for her to smell like that.” Michelle knelt beside Cale and tried hard not to breathe in the sickly sweet stench.

The dog thumped its tail on the mat and licked Cale’s hand as he slid his fingers under her chin to examine her head. His expert hands moved over the dog’s body, all the while he talked soft nonsense to the dog. With a final pat on the animal’s head, Cale sat back on his heels and looked at Michelle. An odd expression crossed his face before he looked away. Cale got to his feet and offered her a hand. Michelle ignored his outstretched hand and stood up quickly before taking a step back.

What is wrong with me, for heaven’s sake? He’s no different than any other man around here. I want to touch him so badly, but I can’t deal with the way he makes me feel. Damn Mary and her matchmaking, damn her all to hell!

“Well, Mr. Hot Shot Vet, what’s the verdict? Will she live?” She cringed inwardly at how harsh and rude she sounded.

“The paw on the injured leg is black and necrotic and will have to come off, the leg is smashed and dislocated, and in light of the damaged paw, I would say the whole limb should be amputated. The rest is cuts and bruises and starvation. The puppies are another matter altogether.” Cale took a step back from Michelle, a puzzled frown creasing his forehead.

“I’ll call Doc in the morning and arrange to take her into the clinic.” Michelle flicked on the overhead light in the hall as she spoke.

More light, that’s what I need. It won’t be so intimate with the lights on, Michelle thought desperately.

Cale bent and scooped the dog up in his arms. He smiled at Michelle’s startled face, turned, and marched down the hall to the kitchen. He gently set the dog in Rex’s bed that was still by the woodstove and covered her with an old blanket from the pile on the spare chair.

“She needs a warm bath and something for the pain, before anything else.” Cale rose and shrugged back into his coat. “I’ll just step out to the truck and get what I need.”

Michelle stared at the back of his broad shoulders as he walked into the mud room, she sat down abruptly onto a kitchen chair and let out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

“What is wrong with me?” she muttered. “What is it about this guy that has me tied up in knots?”

She was still sitting at the table with her chin propped on her hand when Cale returned with his medical bag. Snow clung to his black wavy hair and sparkled on his thick lashes. Michelle tore her gaze away from his face and pushed away from the table.

“What do you need?” she asked, glad to have something to keep her hands busy.

“Is there a place we can bath her down here, or is the bathroom upstairs?” Cale set the medical bag on a chair and shed his coat.

“There’s a shower down here.” Michelle opened a door off the kitchen and turned on the light.

Cale gathered the dog in his arms and shouldered his way past Michelle as she held the door open for him. He set the dog down on the floor of the shower stall and took the hand held shower head Michelle reached down for him. She adjusted the water temperature to lukewarm and then knelt beside Cale to hold the dog while he applied the stream of water.

The shower room was small and only meant for one person. Michelle’s hip was pressed firmly against Cale, and he had to reach across her to clean the dog’s face. Michelle rested her chin on his shoulder because there was no room to do anything else. Her heart kicked into double time, and she hoped fervently Cale couldn’t hear it. The dog sat quietly on her haunches while the vet shampooed her belly, careful of her swollen teats. With her long coat slicked back by the water and the mud taken out of it, the swollen bulge of the dog’s pregnancy was strangely at odds with the rest of her. The dog turned her head and rested her chin on Michelle’s wrist. As if she was too tired to hold her own head up anymore.

Cale washed the last of the frozen mud and ice from the dog and applied shampoo again. The dog slid down onto the floor of the shower, her injured leg thrust out to the side awkwardly. Michelle held her head up with one hand and gently helped Cale clean the injured leg with her other. Twice his fingers brushed hers, and it was all Michelle could do not to snatch her hand away. She gritted her teeth and mentally chastised herself. Stop it for God’s sake! He’s a vet, and you hardly know him. Stop it!

The memories flooded back, unbidden and unwelcome. The smell of shampoo and the warm hiss of the water confined in the little shower stall took her back to a place in her mind she avoided like the plague. Memories of Rob’s hands on her body, slippery with soap, his fingers in her hair; his lips everywhere. Both of them tired from long days in the saddle, sometimes full of weary exhilaration if it was a winning day at the rodeo, and Rob had day money in his pocket. Michelle dragged her thoughts away from dangerous territory and tried to focus on the dog under her hands. And look how that turned out, you idiot. He took off for the big city at the first chance he got.

“I think that’s as good as she gets.” Cale’s voice rumbled in her ear and broke the stream of memories.

Startled, Michelle jumped and tipped over against him. Her head came up quickly, and she was caught in the snare of his electric blue eyes. She watched, mesmerized as a small frown creased his face, and then he lowered his lips to hers, stealing the breath from her. Cale’s lips were warm and sensuous, thrusting Rob’s memory out of her mind. Electricity shot through her body as he explored her mouth. His tongue licked her lower lip before he caught it gently in his teeth. Sensation flooded her, and lights burst behind her closed eyelids. Cale buried a hand in her silky hair, trailed kisses down her jaw and breathed against her ear before delicately running his tongue along her earlobe. Michelle pressed against him, overcome with the need to be closer still. There were no coherent thoughts in her head, only sensation and the knowledge she wanted to be close to this man forever.

A flurry of water splattered Michelle’s face. She pulled back from Cale’s embrace and scrambled to her feet. Cale remained on his knees by the dog, now upright and preparing to shake the water out of her wet coat a second time. A fire burned in his blue eyes, and a smile crossed his damnably kissable lips.

“I think she wants a towel.” Suppressed laughter made Cale’s voice throaty and sent shivers of desire up Michelle’s spine.

“I’ll get some,” Michelle managed to croak as she fled into the kitchen.

She grabbed four thick towels out of the laundry room and halted in the middle of the kitchen with the towels pressed to her chest. Her heart beat at triple time, and she felt light headed. Okay, so he’s gorgeous, and he can kiss like nobody’s business. That’s all it is, simple lust, nothing else. What in God’s name was I thinking? Michelle took a shaky breath and crossed the floor to the shower room door. She thrust the towels through the opening, being careful to not let her fingers touch Cale’s as he took them from her.

“I’ll fix a bed up for her,” Michelle turned back to the relative safety of the kitchen and fussed with Rex’s bed.

Cale carried the damp dog to the bed and laid her down. Michelle placed water and some soft food nearby. The dog took a token lap of the water and then drifted off to sleep in exhaustion. Her injured leg looked worse now it was clean, and the damage was easier to see. The frost bitten paw was already starting to slough flesh. Cale put a loose dressing on it and administered another dose of pain meds.

He stood and grinned at Michelle, who refused to meet his gaze. His shirt clung to his body, wet from the shower the dog had given them both. Michelle realized in the same moment her own shirt was soaked as well, and the top button had somehow pulled free of the flannel and was gaping open. Heat rose up her neck as she realized what Cale was grinning at, and she re-buttoned the shirt with clumsy fingers.

“I’m going to change into something dry, and I’ll find you something of George’s to wear.” Michelle almost ran from the room.

“Who’s George?” Cale’s voice followed her out into the hall.

Michelle didn’t bother to answer him and took the stairs two at a time. She reached the safety of her bedroom and leaned against the closed door. Her breath still came fast, and her heart skipped in her chest. Quickly, she stripped her wet clothes off and changed into jeans and a thick sweater. The wind whipped against the house, cold fingers of air curling through the window frames of the old house. The upper hall was freezing when she crossed it and entered George’s room. Michelle scrounged around until she found some jeans and a flannel shirt in his chest of drawers.

Hugging the clothes to her like a shield, Michelle padded down the stairs, her thick socks making no sound as she reached the front hall and continued into the kitchen. She stopped inside the door just as Cale rose from where he was kneeling by the black dog. He gave her a brilliant, heart stopping smile as he caught sight of her.

“Those for me?” Cale eyed the armful of clothes with a hopeful expression.

“You can change in the other bathroom.” Michelle pointed to a door beside the wood stove.

He crossed the room and took the bundle of clothes from her arms, managing to let his fingers trail down her forearm as he stepped away.

“You never told me who George is,” Cale said casually, his eyes intent on her face.

“My brother.” Michelle was irritated at the breathless catch in her voice.

“Oh, well, good then.” Cale grinned and headed for the bathroom door.

Michelle told herself not to watch as the vet’s cute behind sashayed across her kitchen, but then she gave up and just enjoyed the sight. She turned back to the table and picked up the monitor. The mare and foal seemed happy and content. The colt had his head stuck under his mother’s flank slurping up a second dinner. The foal finished eating, and the mare turned to pick at her hay. The afterbirth was still tied to her tail and swung heavily against her hocks. Michelle checked the clock and mentally calculated the time since the mare foaled. With a sigh she acknowledged the mare should have passed the afterbirth by now. She grimaced at the wet snow stuck to the kitchen window and the sound of the wind howling in the eaves. She picked up the heavy sweater from the back of the chair and pulled it over her head. Winding a scarf over her head, she tucked the ends into the front of the sweater.

“You’re not going out again in this?” Cale’s voice startled her as he came out of the bathroom.

Michelle swung around quickly and then burst out laughing. George’s jeans were a size too small, and the sleeves of the flannel shirt ended above Cale’s wrist bones. For a split second, Michelle wondered when wrist bones had gotten to be so sexy before she pulled her mind back to the matters at hand.

“The mare hasn’t passed the placenta yet, and it’s way past time.” Michelle moved into the mud room as she spoke.

“Good thing the local vet is here,” Cale joked while reaching for his own jacket.

“You don’t have to come out,” Michelle began.

“I went to school so you horse people could pay me the big bucks. C’mon, Michelle, don’t stand in the way of my road to riches.” Cale’s eyes twinkled with suppressed laughter.

Michelle’s face turned beet red, and she made a production out of pulling her boots on. Damn, the man! He must have been in the UFA the other day… That’s exactly what I said about him to Gary. Michelle was acutely aware of the vet’s presence behind her as she stepped out into the force of the blizzard.

Cale followed her, his treatment bag bumping the back of her thigh. He reached out and caught Michelle’s arm with his free hand.

“Hang on to me, so we don’t get separated in this. You know your way around this place like the back of your hand, but I don’t,” Cale shouted over the wind.

Michelle nodded and placed her mittened hand in Cale’s larger one. A strange warmth ran through her, and she didn’t stop to think about why she felt so safe, she just enjoyed the sensation of her hand firmly engulfed in his.

The wind and snow buffeted them, and Michelle was happy to have the larger body of the vet to shield her from the worst of the storm. It took both of them to get the barn door open with the snow drifted up against it.

Michelle flicked the switch by the door, and light flooded the interior of the barn. Pulling off her snow encrusted mittens she stuffed them in the big pockets of her coat. The buckskin mare whickered softly at the sound of voices. She held out her hand and smiled as the big lips searched her palm for a treat. Cale came to lean on the door beside her.

“Nice little fellow.” He smiled at the spindly legged foal who blinked up at him through long curly lashes.

The buckskin mare turned her large liquid eyes on him and snuffled the collar of his shirt as she inspected him. Deciding the stranger was no threat she dropped her head and lipped some hay from the floor of the stall.

Cale set his bag on the floor and opened it. Michelle watched as he filled a syringe from the small bottle of oxytocin he selected from his bag. He straightened and smiled at Michelle. She returned the smile before she remembered she didn’t like the fancy city boy vet. She stood back and let Cale hook the halter from the front of the stall in his large hand and open the door to the stall. Her eyes narrowed as she watched the buckskin mare’s reaction to a stranger near her newborn foal. A smile played about her mouth as she remembered Doc vaulting over the stall door after Hot Shot’s first foal was born, with the mare in hot pursuit, her teeth bared.

Good thing Doc was still pretty spry six years ago. Michelle chuckled silently at the memory.

Cale walked confidently up to the mare’s shoulder, and she lowered her head for him to slip the halter over her ears. Michelle grudgingly scored one for the vet. The mare rolled her eye toward the foal but followed him over to the door.

“Hold her head will you?” Cale said without looking at Michelle.

She took the cotton shank from his hand being careful not to let her fingers touch his. Cale located the vein in the groove of the mare’s neck and slid the needle through the skin. He pulled back on the plunger of the syringe, and Michelle heard his small grunt of approval as bright red blood bloomed in the colorless liquid. Michelle scored him another point for being careful and making sure the needle was set correctly in the vein. She watched as he administered the drug, stopping halfway through to pull back on the plunger again and ensure the needle was still seated in the vein. He removed the needle with an easy practiced skill and capped it before placing it in the sharps container in his bag. Michelle removed the halter from the mare and searched the straw for signs of the colt’s manure. Locating the small heap of dark dung, she smiled in relief and followed Cale out of the stall.

She leaned on the door and watched the horse while Cale closed his bag. Sweat darkened the golden coat as the oxytocin took effect. The large muscles in the mare’s abdomen clenched in the drug induced contractions. Her concentration on the mare was so complete she didn’t take notice of the increasing force of the storm as it hit the barn.

Ten minutes passed before, with a final heave, the mare expelled the afterbirth into the deep straw. Michelle quickly slipped in and wrestled the heavy, slippery membrane out into the aisle in front of the stall. Quickly, she spread the large membranes out on the floor and was relieved to see both the horns were there and intact, nothing was left inside the mare.

“Cale,” she began and then stopped. The aisle behind her was empty, and she frowned. Where in God’s name did he go? She left the membrane on the floor and headed for the tack and feed room. Michelle pulled the door open and was relieved to see Cale talking on the wall phone. Michelle rarely used the thing, it was only for emergencies, or when her cell phone couldn’t get a signal. She turned and left the room without speaking and returned to the birth caul in the aisle.

She gathered the edge of the membrane and rolled it toward the centre. It was cold and sticky, and before long her fingers were numb. Stubbornly, Michelle persevered until it was a somewhat manageable bundle. She squatted over it and began to put it into a large black garbage bag. The placenta resisted her. As quickly as she poked part of it into the bag, another part slipped back out. Her cold hands wouldn’t co-operate, and the heavy bundle slipped away from her. Michelle lost her balance and sat down hard on the aisle of the barn.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Michelle muttered in exasperation. “Where the hell are you George, when I need you?”

Michelle blinked back tears of frustration. Her butt hurt, she was cold and tired, and there was still the damn dog in the kitchen to tend to. Cale’s hand entered her blurred vision, and she placed her hand in his and allowed him to pull her to her feet.

“Afterbirth won, did it?” His smile warmed his eyes and his voice.

“You could say that, Einstein.” Michelle refused to be cajoled.

“C’mon, Michelle, I didn’t laugh.” Cale’s eyes crinkled in amusement. “Well not out loud anyway,” he amended. “For a pretty girl you sure can cuss. Mary didn’t warn me about that.” A mischievous grin creased his face.

Embarrassment crept its crimson way up her neck and flushed her cheeks. Michelle changed the subject quickly.

“Who were you calling?” she asked tersely. “Have to cancel a hot date with a big city girl?”

“Actually, I was talking to my mom. She worries when it storms, and she knows I’m out in it. No confidence in me at all; assumes I’m shiny side down in a ditch somewhere.” Cale shook his head at the folly of mothers everywhere.

“Your mom,” Michelle said incredulously. “Is it storming in Calgary, too?”

“My parents ranch south of here, near Nanton.” Puzzlement coloured his voice. “I told you that in the house. What made you think they lived in Calgary?”

“I don’t know where I heard that.” Michelle refused to meet his eyes. There was no way she was going to admit to listening and participating in the speculative gossip in town.

Cale scooped up the messy afterbirth and dumped it into the empty wheelbarrow outside the tack room. She sighed and decided to leave dealing with it til the morning. Michelle trailed along behind him chewing furiously on her lower lip. Damn the rat bastard, not one bit of gossip mentioned he was actually from a ranching family. All she had heard was he was some hotshot horse vet who pandered to the rich and elite show jumping and dressage world. Lost in her thoughts Michelle walked smack into Cale’s chest as he stepped out of the tack room after washing the sticky blood and amniotic fluid off his hands. His arms came up and held her steady while she regained her balance. Michelle braced her hands on the front of his jacket and involuntarily raised her eyes to meet his. Her breath caught in her throat and fire spread through her. Cale gazed into her face for a moment and then set her firmly on her feet away from him.

“I’m going to check on that mare, and then we should get back to the house while we still can.” Cale left Michelle standing mutely by the tack room and strode to the buckskin mare’s stall.

“Get a grip, woman,” Michelle muttered under her breath.

She followed Cale to the mare’s stall and was relieved to see all was well. She picked up five flakes of hay from the bale outside the stall door and tossed them into the manger. Michelle checked to make sure the waterer wasn’t frozen and double checked the latch on the door.

“That should do her ‘til tomorrow, even if the storm gets worse overnight.” Michelle allowed herself a small smile.

“Back into the storm, then?” Cale buttoned his coat as he spoke.

Michelle nodded and flicked off the aisle lights as Cale wrestled the door open in the biting wind. She ducked under his arm, waiting while he closed the door and secured it against the wind and snow. Michelle didn’t protest when Cale took her hand and set off toward the house. Checking her bearings, she was happy to note Cale was indeed headed in the right direction. They paused to catch their breath in the lee of the garage and then plunged the last few metres to the steps of the porch.

Two feet of snow had drifted on to the porch while they were in the barn. Michelle was happy enough to let Cale plow a path through it and walked in his footsteps. Her legs were like lead, and her teeth were beginning to chatter. Once inside out of the wind, Michelle leaned her back against the door and unwound the snow encrusted scarf from her head. She set her wet gloves on the washing machine lid to dry and shook the worst of the snow from her coat. Running cold fingers through her wet hair, she led the way into the bright warmth of the kitchen.

The black dog still slept by the woodstove. Michelle knelt down and ran a gentle hand over the dog’s rough coat. The electric lights flickered and died as she stood up.

“Is there a flashlight anywhere?” Cale’s voice came disembodied out of the sudden darkness.

“There’s one right here.” Michelle found the right drawer by instinct and flicked on the flashlight. “I’ll light the oil lamp in a second.”

She followed the pool of light spilling from the flashlight in her hand and located the matches where she set them on the table earlier. The sharp smell of sulphur stung her nose as the match flared into life, and she held the small flame to the wick of the oil lamp. A soft yellow glow filled the kitchen with intimate shadows and gave it an insulated, homey feel. Michelle took the flashlight and collected another oil lamp and some afghans and pillows from the living room. She paused for a long moment and studied the large space cleared for the Christmas tree she still had to drag into the house. She dismissed the thought with a sigh and headed back to the kitchen to take care of the matters at hand.

“Looks like you’re spending the night,” Michelle said a little too brightly as she entered the kitchen.

“I can make it home. It’s only across the coulee.” Cale reached for his coat. “The truck has plenty of road clearance. I should be able to plow through the drifts.”

“You go then, cowboy.” Michelle pointed her chin towards the door. “I bet you don’t get out the laneway.”

“You’re on, lady.” Cale took up the challenge. “The mighty Dodge hasn’t let me down yet.”

Michelle didn’t bother to respond but set the afghans and pillows on a big stuffed chair by the woodstove. She crossed the room to peer out the window through the driving snow. A small smile played on her lips. The drifts were enormous and, unless she missed her guess, Cale’s truck wasn’t going anywhere in a hurry. The wind whipped the ends of the man’s scarf wildly around his head as he entered Michelle’s line of sight. The storm buffeted him backward a step for every two he took forward. She allowed herself a snort of laughter when Cale pointed his key fob in the direction he assumed his truck was and pressed the auto start. The lights of the truck were barely visible under the huge mound of snow engulfing it, the throaty roar of the diesel lost in the storm. Michelle giggled again, while Cale stopped and inspected the four feet of hard packed snow separating him from the truck door. Michelle scurried back to the table and poured the last of the lukewarm coffee into two mugs. A cold draft and a smattering of snow swirled across the floor when Cale came through the door from the mud room.

“Looks like I’m spending the night.” He pointed his remote fob out the window and hit the kill button.

“The mighty Dodge, not so mighty.” Michelle teased, forgetting she didn’t like him, not one bit.

“The mighty Dodge is being held captive by a monster snow bank.” Cale grinned at her.

“Snow banks are like that sometimes,” Michelle agreed.

The dog whimpered in her sleep. Michelle went to her and stroked her head. The animal’s eyes flickered open, and she curled her upper lip back from her teeth in a half-hearted snarl. Michelle spoke softly to her, muttering nonsense, knowing it was the sound and intonation of her voice that mattered more than the actual words. The dog heaved a sigh which pulled her scruffy coat taut over her bones, each rib stood out in sharp relief in the lamp light. The mutt closed her eyes and drifted back to sleep, apparently deciding it was too much effort to bite Michelle’s caressing hand.

“She’s had a rough go, poor thing.” Cale sat on his heels next to Michelle. “What are you going to do with her once the snow stops?”

“I’m not sure. I didn’t plan on getting another dog until spring. It’s so much easier to house train a puppy when the snow is gone.” Michelle rose to her feet and looked down at the sleeping dog.

“I don’t think she’ll fare very well at the SPCA. She’s not socialized, and she’s in really poor shape. With that broken leg, they’ll probably put her down. The fact she’s ready to whelp isn’t in her favour either.” Cale looked up at Michelle through his thick lashes.

She ran her fingers through her hair and frowned. “I’ll worry about the puppies when the time comes, I guess. She isn’t going anywhere for a few days, except to Doc’s for x-rays.” In her heart, there was no question she would keep the dog. The poor thing needed a home, and besides, she still hadn’t gotten around to replacing Rex.

The lamp lit kitchen was much too cozy for Michelle’s liking. She was acutely aware of the man kneeling at her side. She turned away and picked up the bedding she left on the chair earlier. With quick efficiency, she made up two beds on the linoleum near the warmth of the stove. Sleeping anywhere other than the room with the woodstove was out of the question with the power out. A cold draft of air swept across the floor; Michelle looked up in time to see the vet’s cute backend disappearing into the chilly mudroom. Her pulse quickened at the sight and a flood of heat coursed up her stomach, over her breasts, and into her face.

“Get a grip, girl,” Michelle muttered. “This is the fancy horse vet. He’s way out of your league.”

Cale returned to the kitchen with some wood and put it in the wood box by the stove. He dusted his hands off on his jeans and sank down onto the empty pallet beside Michelle’s. Stretching out his long frame on the afghan he heaved a sigh of relief and relaxed.

“Might as well get some sleep. I’m done in from schlepping through all that snow.”

His eyes closed almost before he finished speaking; in minutes his deep, slow breathing told Michelle he had actually fallen asleep.

She watched the slow rise and fall of his chest. Her gaze travelled upward to his face, soft and vulnerable as he slept. Her hand moved by its own accord, and she had to restrain herself from stroking his cheek. With a muttered curse, Michelle jumped up and made herself busy turning down the wicks of the lamps and checking the fire. She returned to her makeshift bed and lay down with her back to the sleeping vet. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get comfortable, and her heightened senses relayed every tiny noise he made to her tired brain. Finally, she fell into a fitful slumber until an exhausted sigh woke her to find the dog crawling under her blanket. Michelle put an arm around the presence next to her, who in her dreams wore the face of the man who slept behind her.