Montana Mistletoe Baby
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Patricia Johns
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Chapter One
Curtis Porter was too old to be a bull rider, and right about now, he felt like a failure at ranching, too. When he’d moved away from Hope, Montana, for good, he’d left behind a soon-to-be ex-wife and a whole heap of memories. He figured if he ever came back, he’d show her just what she missed out on. He didn’t count on coming back washed up.
Curtis hunkered down next to the calf in the barn stall. The calf was having difficulty breathing and looked thin. It obviously hadn’t been eating properly. Curtis had been back on the ranch only since Friday, so he couldn’t blame himself for not noticing sooner. Bovine illness could be hard to spot at first glance, but the later stages were obvious. He still wished he hadn’t missed this one—he hated the unnecessary suffering.
December was a tough month—the days being snipped shorter and shorter, and darkness stretching out well into his work hours. He did chores in the morning and evening with a flashlight while winter wind buffeted him from all directions. It wasn’t an excuse to have missed a sick calf, but it factored in.
Curtis rose to his feet and let himself out of the stall. He’d just have to wait for the vet. He was officially out of his depth. Curtis was a recently retired bull rider, and when the aunt who’d taken him in as a teen asked him to come back to help run the ranch while she recovered from a broken ankle, he’d agreed, but it wasn’t only because of his soft spot for Aunt Betty. He had other business to attend to in the tiny town of Hope—the sale of a commercial property—and he’d been putting that off for longer than his finances would comfortably allow. He no longer had the choice—he needed the money now.
Curtis’s cell phone blipped, and he looked down at an incoming text from Aunt Betty.
The vet passed the house a couple of minutes ago. Should be there any second.
There was a pause, and then another text came through.
Tried to get Palmer, but he’s out at an emergency for the night. Had to call Barrie. Sorry, kiddo.
His heart sped up, and Curtis dropped the phone back into his front pocket. Of course. There were only two vets in Hope, and his ex-wife, Barrie Jones, was one of them. At least Aunt Betty had tried for the less awkward option.
The barn door creaked open, and Curtis looked up to see Barrie framed in the doorway. From this vantage point, he could see her only from her shoulders up—chestnut-brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, no makeup and clear blue eyes—and his heart clenched in his chest. Her gaze swept across the barn, then landed on him, pinning him to the spot. Fifteen years, and she could still do that to him.
“Betty said I’d find you out here,” Barrie said, pulling the door shut behind her. The sound of her stomping the snow off her boots on concrete echoed through the barn. Then she headed past some stalls toward him. “Long time no see, Curtis.”
Apparently Aunt Betty had given Barrie time to compose herself, too. He swallowed hard and was about to reply when she came around to the aisle and the words evaporated on his tongue.
Barrie’s tan canvas winter coat was open in the front, and her belly swelled under a loose cream-colored sweater. Her walk was different—more cautious, maybe—but other than the belly, she was still the long-legged beauty she’d always been. Barrie sauntered down the aisle toward him, her vet bag slung over one shoulder. She stopped at the stall.
“You’re—” He wasn’t sure if he was allowed to point out the obvious, but he’d never been a terribly diplomatic guy. “You’re pregnant.”
“I am.” She met his gaze evenly.
“Congratulations.” He wasn’t sure what else to say. Somehow, in all of his considerations surrounding seeing Barrie again, he hadn’t considered this one.
“Thank you.” For the first time, her confidence seemed to falter, and color rose in her cheeks. “You look good, Curtis.”
His jeans were mud smeared and he hadn’t shaved in several days, but he’d take the compliment. He allowed himself one more glance down her figure before he locked his gaze firmly on her face and kept it there. Her body—and her baby—weren’t his business.
“You look good, too,” he said. “You’re doing really well, then. Your veterinary practice, a baby on the way... So, who’s the lucky SOB? Anyone I know?”
It was annoying to admit it, but that was his biggest question right now—who’d managed to make her happy? He couldn’t say that he wouldn’t be a tiny bit jealous. A man didn’t marry a girl, vow to love her until death parted them and then watch her move on with some other guy without at least a twinge of regret.
“I doubt it.” Her smile slipped, and she turned toward the stall. “Is this the calf?”
So she wasn’t going to tell him? How bad could it be? This only made him all the more curious. He unhinged the latch and opened the gate.
“Seriously?” he asked. “All I have to do is ask Betty who you’re with—”
“I’m single.” She shot him a sharp look, then went into the stall and crouched down next to the calf. “I’ll take a look.”
Single? So, some idiot had knocked her up and walked out on her? That sparked some anger deep inside him. He’d walked out, but only after she’d shown him the door, and she most definitely wasn’t pregnant when he’d left. So he might be an SOB, too, but whoever had left her alone with this baby was higher on that list.
Barrie put on some rubber gloves, pulled a flashlight out of her bag and checked the calf’s eyes. Then she pulled out a thermometer and murmured reassuringly to the calf as she worked.
“So who’s the father?” Curtis pressed.
Barrie glanced up again, then sighed. “Curtis, I’m here to do a job. Would you like to know what’s wrong with this calf or not?”
“Fine.” He leaned against the rail and watched her check the calf’s temperature.
She looked at the readout on the digital recorder. “A cow’s body temperature rises continuously during the day, so it’s hard to get a really accurate idea of how much fever a calf is running...”
Barrie pulled the plastic cover off the thermometer wand, then dropped it back into her bag. She rose to her feet and turned to Curtis. “But this calf is definitely running a fever. I’m thinking it’s probably bovine respiratory disease. It’s catchy, so keep an eye on the other calves bought at the same time. It can be transferred to adult cattle, as well, so make sure you quarantine the sick ones or you’ll end up with a costly epidemic.”
“Got it.” He nodded. “Treatment?”
“I’ll give antibiotic doses for a few days. It’s caused by a virus, but the antibiotics treat any secondary illnesses that develop as a result and let the body focus on fighting the virus. If we find the sick cows early enough, they get over it. If not, it turns into pneumonia and you’ll lose them.” Barrie opened her bag again and pulled out some packaged cattle syringes and bottles of liquid medication.
She was beautiful when she was focused like that. Barrie had always been that way—she could be knee-deep in manure and still look sweet. Curtis cared about the cattle—and about the running of his aunt’s ranch—but right now, his mind was still working over the fact that Barrie was both single and pregnant. She’d always been the prim and proper type—so much so that it had driven him kind of crazy—so he knew how hard this would be on her.
“Tell me that you told the father to take a hike, and I’ll feel better,” he said after a moment.
“I don’t need defending, Curtis,” she replied. “Least of all from the man who walked out on me.”
“You kicked me out,” he countered.
“And you left.” Anger snapped in that blue gaze. Then she shook her head. “This is dumb. It was fifteen years ago. There’s no use fighting over it.”
She had a point. Their relationship was solidly in the past, and whatever her problems now, at least she wasn’t blaming him.
“So, how long are you in town?” she asked, turning to the calf again with a syringe. He wasn’t sure if she was asking to see how fast she’d be rid of him, or if this was just small talk.
“For a few weeks to help Betty until her ankle heals,” he said.
“I’m sure she appreciates it.”
“Yeah...” He cleared his throat. Her current state made his other news that much harder to deliver because he’d be the bad guy yet again. But he’d have to tell her eventually. There was no avoiding this one, even if he wanted to.
Barrie administered the syringe, then stroked a hand over the calf’s muzzle comfortingly.
“Poor thing,” she murmured.
“Will it be okay?” he asked.
“We’ll see,” she replied. “You may have caught the symptoms in time.”
She tried to stand but stumbled. Curtis stepped forward and caught her arm, helping her up.
“I’m fine.” She pulled back, and he felt stung. He’d reacted on instinct—she was a pregnant woman, after all, and any able-bodied man would want to give her a hand.
“Look, Barrie, I’m here for something else, too,” he admitted.
Barrie’s clear blue eyes met his, one eyebrow arched expectantly. She was so close that he could smell the soft scent of her perfume mingling with the tang of other barn aromas. She looked the same—the big blue eyes, the light eyebrows she always used to complain about, the faint spattering of freckles over her nose. Fifteen years had gone by, aging him beyond his ability to keep bull riding, and she still looked as fresh as the twenty-year-old he’d married. He really wished he could have come back a little more successful to prove that she’d missed out, but he couldn’t change facts.
“I’m selling the building,” he said.
* * *
PROFESSIONAL. IN AND OUT. That had been Barrie’s plan when Betty apologetically told her that Curtis was waiting in the barn with the sick calf. And seeing him again... He was older, obviously, but he was still the same Curtis who was too ruggedly handsome for his own good. But she was fifteen years older this time around, and pregnant. She had bigger worries than Curtis’s ability to make her melt with one of his half smiles. Besides, there was a far higher risk of him irritating her. She didn’t have the patience to deal with his boyish whims—her life had been turned upside down with this pregnancy, and she was facing her first Christmas without her mom, who had passed away last February from a stroke. She hadn’t seen that heartbreak coming, either.
“Selling the building?” she repeated, slipping past him into the aisle, his words not sinking in.
“The commercial building my uncle left me—the one you lease for your practice.”
Barrie whipped around in shock. “Wait—what?”
“I don’t have much choice, Barrie.”
“Selling it to who?” she demanded. A change in ownership didn’t have to mean an end to her ability to lease there... Her mind spun forward, sifting through the possibilities.
“Nothing’s finalized,” he replied.
As if that made his intentions any different. Anger simmered beneath the surface. She’d worked too hard for this, for too long, but Curtis had never cared about her ambitions. Fifteen years hadn’t changed much between them. What she needed was information—then she could make a plan. She’d had too many surprises lately, and a plan was an absolute necessity.
“But you have an interested buyer,” she countered.
“Palmer Berton is interested, but we haven’t nailed anything down.”
Barrie swallowed hard, her stomach dropping.
“You’re going to sell the building that houses my clinic to my business rival,” she clarified. “And you think he’ll keep leasing to me? I’m going to have to find a new place—move all my equipment, renovate the new space...” She was already tallying the cost of this, and as the tally rose, so did her anxiety. “Why are you doing this?”
“It’s not personal,” he said. “I need to liquidate.”
Not personal? Curtis of all people knew how personal her practice was to her. “You need the money now?”
“I’m going to buy a stud farm with my business partner in Wyoming, and I need to sell to get the money for my half of the down payment. I don’t have a choice, Barrie.”
“So, what happened to bull riding?” She couldn’t control the ice in her tone. That had been the cause of their divorce—bull riding had stayed his priority, leaving her in the dust. She’d wanted a real home with him, not to follow after him in a beat-up trailer. She’d wanted to start a family, to pursue her education and become a vet. She’d wanted a life, not a road trip.
“My body can’t take it anymore,” he replied. “I’ve broken too many bones. This wrist—” He held up his arm and moved his hand in a circle. “You hear that clicking? Both of my ankles do that, too. I’ve gone as far as I can in the circuit. I’m officially old.”
At thirty-seven. Barrie had seen that coming, too, but he’d never listened to her. A body could take only so much punishment, and every time he’d get thrown and break a rib or dislocate his shoulder, she’d be the one patching up his injuries and begging him to find something safer, something more reliable... How many times had she sat in her parents’ kitchen, describing some new injury to her mom, who wisely just listened and offered no advice?
“That’s it, then,” she said. “You’re selling and this is my heads-up.”
He didn’t answer. She sighed and hitched her bag up on her shoulder.
“Fine,” she said. “Thanks for the warning.”
Since when had Curtis been stable, anyway? This had always been the problem—Curtis was always on the move. Leasing from his uncle had seemed safe enough, but when he died of a heart attack last year and left the building to Curtis, she’d had a sinking suspicion that her comfortably predictable days were limited. She paid her monthly lease to a management company, and she’d hoped that arrangement could continue for a while.
“You don’t know that Palmer will kick you out,” Curtis said.
“Really?” she snapped. “Because I know Palmer pretty well. I worked under him for three years after I got my doctorate degree. He was furious when I started my own practice. He hates competition. I’m still under water on my student loans, I owe a good amount for supplies and renovating my clinic... I’ve only been running my own practice for four years! If you need help with that math, I’m nowhere near financially stable enough to ride this out.”
Plus, there was the baby, which complicated everything further. She’d been wondering how she’d run a veterinary practice with a newborn. If her mom were still with them, she’d have a solution, but Mom was gone, and Barrie would have to sort this out on her own. Vets were on call 24/7. That was the way things worked in this field, and she wouldn’t be able to afford to take a decent maternity leave. She ran a hand over her belly and the baby squirmed in response. Emotion rose in her chest, and she swallowed against it.
“What am I supposed to do?” Curtis’s tone softened. “I own the building, but I can’t do a thing unless I sell it. I’m sorry, Barrie. I mean it when I say selling the building isn’t personal. I’ve put off the sale for a year, and there isn’t any other way. I can’t do the circuit anymore, and I have a chance for a fresh start. I either sell and invest in a business, or I’m washed up. It’s as simple as that.”
“It’s you or me,” she said wryly. “Nothing’s changed, has it?”
Curtis took off his cowboy hat and scrubbed a hand through his hair. “We always did want different things.”
“Yeah.” The baby poked out a foot—maybe a hand? She put her own hand over the spot. Would she be forced to give up her dream of running her own practice and work under Palmer Berton again? The very thought put a sour taste in her mouth.
“Barrie, I’m sorry.”
“You keep saying that.” She shot him a chilly smile. “But let’s keep things professional. I’m here as your vet, not as your ex-wife. If you notice any more cattle with hanging heads, lethargy or nasal discharge, call me and we’ll treat them right away. We can get this under control if we’re careful.”
Curtis blinked, then nodded. Had he expected her not to be professional? He’d been gone a long time, and life hadn’t just stopped in his absence. He might have wasted his time on the circuit, but she’d made good use of hers. Ironically, he could still pulverize her plans—that had been Curtis’s greatest talent.
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll keep an eye out and give you a call. Unless you’d rather we call Palmer so you don’t have to deal with me.”
And give Palmer the job? No, she didn’t want that in the least. She still had a practice to run, and she’d need all the money she could squirrel away.
“Curtis, I’m a professional,” she replied. “And I’m good at what I do. Call me.”
He nodded. “Will do.”
Curtis—or at least, her feelings for him—had been at the center of all of Barrie’s biggest mistakes in life, starting with marrying him and ending with a very unplanned pregnancy. This baby wasn’t his, obviously, but he’d been unwittingly connected.
As she headed back to her truck, Barrie let out a wavering sigh.
Professional. In and out. She’d managed it, hadn’t she?
One thing was certain—she wasn’t going to let Curtis close enough to mess with her heart again. He’d already done enough damage for a lifetime.
