The Rancher's Prospect Read Free Page A

stopped?”
    â€œMostly.”
    A minute later Lauren hurried into the waiting room and checked Josh’s wound. She looked at Tara apologetically. “I need to take care of this,” she said. “I’ll understand if you don’t want to stay.”
    â€œDon’t be silly. I’m happy to wait while you deal with the results of someone’s stupidity.”
    Lauren’s eyes widened, but she simply gestured to her bad-tempered patient, who followed her into the rear of the clinic with a last fierce look at Tara.
    The receptionist chuckled once the door had closed behind them. “Oh, my gosh, Lauren said you had opposite personalities, and now I see what she meant.”
    â€œOh?”
    â€œYeah. She’s a terrific PA and very sweet, but she would never stick it to Josh the way you did. Good job.”
    â€œThanks. Is he always like Napoleon with a headache?” Tara asked, using one of her French coworker’s similes.
    â€œLately, at least. He’s getting on everyone’s nerves and keeps—”
    The woman stopped abruptly and looked down at the papers on her desk; perhaps she’d been about to say something prohibited under privacy regulations. She seemed relieved when someone else came through the door and stepped up to the window. A protracted discussion about insurance ensued, so Tara settled into a seat and leafed through a news magazine. She read with interest an article on international relations with France. The thought of returning to Paris for her next contract was compelling, but there were so many other places to see. Rome and Berlin called to her as well, along with Madrid.
    In the background, she heard a comment about something Josh needed and pictured his face again. Maybe she shouldn’t have sounded off since the clinic was Lauren’s place of employment. But who did he think he was? Lauren was a professional, not a flunky who was supposed to jump when he snapped his fingers.
    As for lectures... Weren’t medical personnel supposed to advise their patients on healthy living?
    She was on her third magazine when the interior door swung open.
    It was Josh...What’s His Name. While his hand was neatly bandaged and elevated in a sling, getting it treated obviously hadn’t sweetened his mood. The thunderclouds on his face did nothing to diminish his good looks, but Tara wasn’t impressed—she’d known too many handsome jerks over the years. He glanced at her, and she gave him a wickedly sweet smile, which made him glower all the more fiercely before marching from the clinic.
    Lauren joined her several minutes later.
    â€œI’m free now,” she said. “But I’m afraid that took part of my lunch hour.”
    â€œThat’s okay. Where shall we go?”
    â€œHow about the restaurant down the street? It isn’t gourmet, nothing like the places where we ate in Paris. Schuyler doesn’t have any fancy restaurants, but the Roundup Café is fast and clean.”
    â€œNot a problem. I enjoy indigenous foods.”
    Lauren just blinked at the tongue-in-cheek remark, so Tara wasn’t sure whether her sister shared her sense of humor. Or maybe they simply needed to know each other better before that sort of thing could be understood between them.
    * * *
    J OSH STALKED AWAY from the clinic. The throb in his palm had subsided thanks to the anesthetic Lauren had used before sewing it up, but it would undoubtedly begin hurting again as that wore off. She’d also written a prescription for pain pills. He had insisted they weren’t necessary, but she’d reasonably pointed out that he might change his mind after the clinic had closed.
    It didn’t help to know he’d acted worse than a hungry bear right out of hibernation. The series of accidents he’d had in recent months had made him feel like a ten-thumbed greenhorn. What’s more, once he got back to the Boxing N, Grandpa was sure