Washed Away

“You’re sure you don’t mind doing this on your own?” Mitch said. “If I could spare anyone, I’d send them out with you. I don’t really like the idea of you out there on your…”

“I can read a map, Mitch.” Starting the engine, she waited as Mitch stepped back. Then, after taking a final moment to familiarize herself with the controls, she waved to the fire chief and drove off into the lashing rain.

She found the gas station easily. Jumping down, Cheryl huddled inside the waterproof jacket. Mitch had been right. Her hospital scrubs and flimsy linen jacket would have been less than useless in these conditions. Dashing across the pavement, she ran into the small shop, groaning inwardly when she saw the lineup. Everyone was clearly out on a last-minute spree, stocking up on batteries and flashlights. Cheryl grabbed the last basket, filling it with chocolates before joining the line to pay. Just for the hell of it, she reached over and picked up a couple of postcards.

CHAPTER TWO

“SETTLE DOWN, GUYS.” Noah Arkin shouted above the stamping feet and whinnying coming from the back of his van. “Just the gas to get, then only one more stop at the fire station and we can finally head for home.”

His words had no effect, but then Noah hadn’t really expected them to. Still, it didn’t stop him from trying. The truck was jammed with medical equipment, cages and animals. He’d only gone out to drop supplies off to Mitch and should have been back at his clinic ages ago, but as usual, he’d been delayed. No way could he drive by his patients’ homes without checking that they and their owners were okay. Of course he’d ended up battening down hatches and offering to evacuate people’s pets to his clinic so their owners would have one less thing to worry about during the storm.

The last two days had been hell. Sure, farmers knew how best to prepare for a storm. They’d been through it often enough, after all, and this was their livelihood they were protecting, but there was still a lot of work for Noah: updating immunizations, helping ranchers move cattle to safer pastures. Unlike Mitch, who was dealing with the two-legged specimens, once the storm really took hold, Noah could sleep—crash in the little studio apartment attached to his clinic and catch up on some rest before the real work started. The worst time for veterinarians came after the storm. Apart from the inevitable casualties and missing animals, the power lines would be down and the water levels up, hindering rescue efforts.

But instead of being at home, Noah thought, stifling a yawn then raking a hand through his damp brown hair, instead of catching up on some rest, he still had the supplies to drop off and a van full of pets to sort out.

He had to toughen up.

Filling up the truck at the main station in town, Noah listened as the animals kicked at the side of his vehicle, the howls and barks growing louder now. As if he didn’t have enough to do already without taking this bunch on. As if he didn’t have enough to organize without acting as an unpaid baby-sitter for half of Turning Point’s pets. And it would be unpaid, Noah knew that for sure. But the money side didn’t worry him. His ranching clients provided his real bread-and-butter. The pets that had found their way into the back of his van were the jam on top.

Literally!

After the storm passed, he’d have umpteen more jars of jam to line his already heaving cupboards and enough farm eggs to start his own store.

No, it wasn’t money that was the problem, it was time.

Over and over, that very precious commodity seemed to slip away from him. But how could he say no to Mrs. Gessop when she asked him to look after her budgerigar, and how could he tell Old Mary that her beloved, overweight and extremely spoilt miniature horse Georgina was the very last thing he needed to deal with right now?

He couldn’t.

Schmuck! That should be his middle name. Pulling the nozzle out, Noah replaced the gas cap before running into the shop.

Noah Schmuck Arkin.

Jeez, Noah thought, looking at the long lineup in the store, he’d be in here for ages.

He eyed the basket of the customer in front of him, then did a double take. The basket was almost bursting with every type of chocolate and candy bar available. Someone clearly didn’t believe in rationing! And the woman was idly reading postcards as if she had all the time in the world. But there was something else about her that caught Noah’s attention. Something that made her stand apart from the rest of the people in the lineup. A certain aloofness that held him entranced.

She was tall, too.

Okay, Noah admitted, he liked tall women, and since he was six foot four himself, it wasn’t hard to see why. But it wasn’t just her height that made her stand out. It wasn’t even the appalling baggy clothes she wore. Something told him that under that hideous jacket was a well-toned body. She carried herself regally, her back as straight as a ballet dancer’s. And even though her long dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail, the lush heavy locks, wet from the rain, were straining to escape.

His eyes flicked down to her hands. They were well-groomed, he noted, the nails neat, not too long, an immaculate French polish the perfect touch.

She was, quite simply, beautiful.

“Just the gas, Noah?” Bill asked, seeing the bulging basket of the mystery woman, who was now at the counter, and rudely shouting over her.

Normally Noah would have shaken his head, said something along the lines of “No rush, Bill. Go ahead and serve the lady first.”

And she certainly was a lady, Noah decided as she turned her head and he got a glimpse of velvety brown eyes framed with dark lashes, full dark lips pursing in indignation as he stepped forward to pay. Noah felt his heart skip into overdrive, his brain processing a million details in an instant. Take away the working man’s clothes, take away the heavy boots, and underneath he knew, just knew, she was all woman.

All woman, a certain piece of his anatomy confirmed. But even if she was the most gorgeous woman to hit Turning Point in as long as he could remember, even if Bill’s offer to serve him first could throw him an opening line here, Mother Nature was the only woman who could be on Noah’s mind today.

He needed to out of here.

“Thanks, Bill,” Noah said, handing over his money. “Thanks,” he repeated to the woman, giving her an apologetic smile. And he waited—waited for a shrug, a wide Texas smile and an easy “No problem.” Instead she was frowning, two vertical lines forming on the bridge of a deliciously snubbed nose. “I’m the local vet,” he offered by way of explanation, but her frown only deepened.

“Gotta look after the animals,” Bill chimed in, handing over Noah’s change. “Especially with the storm coming.”

“Oh, sure!” Chocolate Girl bristled. “Don’t mind me.”

Even Bill started at her confident New York accent and almost menacing velvet eyes. “I’m only here to look out for the humans.”

Geesh!

Looks and attitude.

For a second, Noah found himself intrigued. He wanted to prolong the conversation, to see those angry lips move again, to catch another glimpse of those delicious eyes and find out just what this woman was doing in Turning Point. A reporter perhaps? Yeah, that seemed to fit. There were always reporters sniffing around for a story in a crisis. They’d be focusing on the human aspect of the storm, filling a lull in the hard news with some sixty-second human interest story. Noah could certainly picture the camera loving this woman.

But as stunning as she might be, Noah wasn’t about to be spoken down to. “Hey, thanks for being so understanding,” he shot back as he took his change from Bill. Even though his sarcasm was delivered with a wide smile, her frown deepened and he knew he’d ruffled her feathers.

“I’m not,” she bristled, turning around to face him full-on.

If the side view had held Noah entranced, looking directly into her face took his breath away.

She was gorgeous.

Seriously so.

“I know you’re not,” Noah replied in a clipped tone. As gorgeous as she was, her stern gaze had him recovering quickly, and despite his earlier interest, Noah changed his mind. Even if time had allowed, he had no desire to have to justify his work to some uptight city babe who simply didn’t get it—The ringing of his cell phone saved him from thinking up a smart reply, and he chose to move to the relative quiet of the back of the store as Bill unloaded Chocolate Girl’s basket.

“Calm down, Jack.” Noah’s firm voice had the whole store turning to look at him. “No, stay the hell out of the stable. You’ll get yourself killed if you go in while he’s like that. I need you to calm down and tell me just how badly injured he is….”

Everything moved in slow motion for a moment, Bill’s hands running up the total on the till, his eyes trained on Noah, the locals in the lineup holding their breath and hoping that somehow they’d got it wrong, that somehow they were misinterpreting the one-sided conversation. Jack and Sara had pooled everything on the prize stallion, a shining light in their tough times. He couldn’t be going crazy in a stable on the other side of town, badly injured.

“I’ll come now….” Noah said, trying to calm Jack down, to keep the note of fear out of his own voice. And it was genuine fear. A brute of an animal deranged with terror in a confined space wasn’t the ideal combination. His voice trailed off as Jack made his decision, the toughest of calls, and handed the phone over to his wife.

The stallion might be a brute of an animal, but its legs were as fragile as glass, and from Jack’s description, the fracture he had sustained was beyond repair.

Closing his eyes, blocking out the watching audience, Noah listened intently, his voice softer when he spoke next. “I’m right here, Sara. You just make sure Jack’s safe in there….”

There was a long pause. And even though no one in the store heard the shot, everyone knew what had happened. Running a hand over his forehead, Noah spoke again, his voice deep, calm and reassuring.

“I’m sorry, buddy, really sorry. And I know it won’t help now, but you know that you did the right thing.”

Maybe he was out of line, but at that moment Noah was hurting. He wanted to lash out at someone, and it was Chocolate Girl’s eyes that met his as he snapped the phone closed and replaced it in his pocket.

“Oh, well.” He gave a shrug. “I guess it was only a horse.”