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And Then He Kissed MeChapter One
Cole Sheridan speared his fingers through his hair, but it had a mind of its own and tumbled back over his heated brow. He looked like hell. He felt like shit. But who wouldn't after what he'd gone through the past eight hours? He'd had his hands and arms up the backside of a mare half the night in an attempt to save her foal. hi the end the little guy didn't make it. Neither did the mare.
If only he'd been called earlier. If only Jim Foley, the mare's owner, hadn't thought he could handle the difficult birth on his own. If only Jim's ranch had been closer to Cole's place. So many "if onlys," but in the end Cole had arrived too late, a cesarean had been out of the question, and he'd known at the outset that things didn't look badthey looked fatal.
The last thing he wanted at ten-twenty-two this morning, when he was already out of sorts, was the sun beating through the windshield of his pickup and the guy on the radio telling him something he already knew. It was hot enough outside to fry Rocky Mountain oysters on the pavement. Definitely too damn hot for Plentiful, Wyoming, ,which was supposed to peak somewhere in the low 80s when July rolled around. Today they predicted it would hit 102, breaking the town's record by a blasted eight degrees.
The deodorant he'd put on yesterday morning had worn off hours ago, he had to pick up supplies before heading home, his stomach had growled continuously for the past two hours, and Jim Foley had been so pissed about losing his horses that he hadn't offered Cole coffee or even a day-old donut, only a string of swear words and a threat to sue.
Something told him this wasn'tgoing to be the best of days.
The cell phone rang and Cole's jaw clenched. What now? He needed a shower before handling another emergency. He needed to shave. He needed caffeine.
Or a few hours of sleep.
Doubting he'd get any of those things in the immediate future, he grabbed the phone from beside him on the bench seat. "Doc Sheridan," he barked.
"This is Twyla Lewellyn."
Fear kicked him in the gut when he heard the nanny's voice. "Is something wrong?"
"You're dam right something's wrong. I quit."
Cole glared into the sun, focusing on what he could see of the road, while panic about his kids' safety turned to cold, hard irritation. "You can't quit. You just started yesterday."
"You didn't tell me there were five, of them," Twyla harped. "'You didn't tell me they're monsters, and you also neglected to mention that three of them are in diapers."
Cole's fingers tightened on the steering wheel. "Look, Twyla, you wouldn't have taken the job if I'd told you the truth. I interviewed seven women and two men last week and all of them declined the job when I told them I have five kids."
"That's not my problem."
"Yeah, I know, and I should have told you the truth, but I'm a busy man and I need someone to take care of them.
"I'm not changing my mind. I'm quitting. Now."
"I'm twenty miles out of town, thirty from home. I've got groceries to buy, mail to pick up — "
"Two hours. That's all the longer I'll give you because that's all the longer I can put up with those heathens of yours."
"Give me three."
"Two and a half."
Cole's eyes narrowed. He gritted his teeth. "You were hired to do a job and I'm holding you to it. So help me, you walk out that door and leave those kids alone even one second before I get there to watch them myself, and I'll have every law enforcement officer in Wyoming hot on your trail. I'll have you arrested for child endangerment and anything else I can pin on you. Do you understand?"
"Just get here quick, because if I get kicked in the shins one more time or find one more rabbit turd in my iced tea, I'll sue you for every penny you're worth."
Twyla slammed the phone in his ear.
Shit.
Through the heat waves bouncing up from the asphalt, Cole spotted a rattler sunning itself on the pavement and swerved out of its way. Most other men would have run over the blasted serpent. Considering his present state of mind, Cole was surprised he hadn't done it himself just to be ornery. But saving creatures, whether they hopped, trotted, crept or slithered was his lot in life; not killing them.
At the moment, however, he didn't have much compassion for creatures that walked upright, especially nannies, particularly Twyla Lewellyn, Nanny #13. He should have known a woman who looked like Frankenstein's monster and sounded like Peter Lorre would bring him bad luck.
He shoved his foot down on the accelerator and watched the speedometer climb from sixty to eighty. If he hurried he could tick off a few of the things he'd had on his to-do list for the day. He needed to get to the grocery store and buy at least a week's worth of food. He needed to stop at the farm supply to pick up grain for the horses, goat chow for the pygmies, and new leather work gloves on the off chance he could find time to mend the fence in his south pasture.
The haircut that had been on his list for two months would have to wait. So would chowing down on a decent cheeseburger and slugging down a cold beer at the Misty Moon.
So much for plans ...
And Then He Kissed Me. Copyright © by Patti Berg. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold.
Read a Sample Chapter
Chapter One
Cole Sheridan speared his fingers through his hair, but it had a mind of its own and tumbled back over his heated brow. He looked like hell. He felt like shit. But who wouldn't after what he'd gone through the past eight hours? He'd had his hands and arms up the backside of a mare half the night in an attempt to save her foal. hi the end the little guy didn't make it. Neither did the mare.
If only he'd been called earlier. If only Jim Foley, the mare's owner, hadn't thought he could handle the difficult birth on his own. If only Jim's ranch had been closer to Cole's place. So many "if onlys," but in the end Cole had arrived too late, a cesarean had been out of the question, and he'd known at the outset that things didn't look badthey looked fatal.
The last thing he wanted at ten-twenty-two this morning, when he was already out of sorts, was the sun beating through the windshield of his pickup and the guy on the radio telling him something he already knew. It was hot enough outside to fry Rocky Mountain oysters on the pavement. Definitely too damn hot for Plentiful, Wyoming, ,which was supposed to peak somewhere in the low 80s when July rolled around. Today they predicted it would hit 102, breaking the town's record by a blasted eight degrees.
The deodorant he'd put on yesterday morning had worn off hours ago, he had to pick up supplies before heading home, his stomach had growled continuously for the past two hours, and Jim Foley had been so pissed about losing his horses that he hadn't offered Cole coffee or even a day-old donut, only a string of swear words and a threat to sue.
Something told him this wasn't going to be the best of days.
The cell phone rang and Cole's jaw clenched. What now? He needed a shower before handling another emergency. He needed to shave. He needed caffeine.
Or a few hours of sleep.
Doubting he'd get any of those things in the immediate future, he grabbed the phone from beside him on the bench seat. "Doc Sheridan," he barked.
"This is Twyla Lewellyn."
Fear kicked him in the gut when he heard the nanny's voice. "Is something wrong?"
"You're dam right something's wrong. I quit."
Cole glared into the sun, focusing on what he could see of the road, while panic about his kids' safety turned to cold, hard irritation. "You can't quit. You just started yesterday."
"You didn't tell me there were five, of them," Twyla harped. "'You didn't tell me they're monsters, and you also neglected to mention that three of them are in diapers."
Cole's fingers tightened on the steering wheel. "Look, Twyla, you wouldn't have taken the job if I'd told you the truth. I interviewed seven women and two men last week and all of them declined the job when I told them I have five kids."
"That's not my problem."
"Yeah, I know, and I should have told you the truth, but I'm a busy man and I need someone to take care of them.
"I'm not changing my mind. I'm quitting. Now."
"I'm twenty miles out of town, thirty from home. I've got groceries to buy, mail to pick up -- "
"Two hours. That's all the longer I'll give you because that's all the longer I can put up with those heathens of yours."
"Give me three."
"Two and a half."
Cole's eyes narrowed. He gritted his teeth. "You were hired to do a job and I'm holding you to it. So help me, you walk out that door and leave those kids alone even one second before I get there to watch them myself, and I'll have every law enforcement officer in Wyoming hot on your trail. I'll have you arrested for child endangerment and anything else I can pin on you. Do you understand?"
"Just get here quick, because if I get kicked in the shins one more time or find one more rabbit turd in my iced tea, I'll sue you for every penny you're worth."
Twyla slammed the phone in his ear.
Shit.
Through the heat waves bouncing up from the asphalt, Cole spotted a rattler sunning itself on the pavement and swerved out of its way. Most other men would have run over the blasted serpent. Considering his present state of mind, Cole was surprised he hadn't done it himself just to be ornery. But saving creatures, whether they hopped, trotted, crept or slithered was his lot in life; not killing them.
At the moment, however, he didn't have much compassion for creatures that walked upright, especially nannies, particularly Twyla Lewellyn, Nanny #13. He should have known a woman who looked like Frankenstein's monster and sounded like Peter Lorre would bring him bad luck.
He shoved his foot down on the accelerator and watched the speedometer climb from sixty to eighty. If he hurried he could tick off a few of the things he'd had on his to-do list for the day. He needed to get to the grocery store and buy at least a week's worth of food. He needed to stop at the farm supply to pick up grain for the horses, goat chow for the pygmies, and new leather work gloves on the off chance he could find time to mend the fence in his south pasture.
The haircut that had been on his list for two months would have to wait. So would chowing down on a decent cheeseburger and slugging down a cold beer at the Misty Moon.
So much for plans ...
And Then He Kissed Me. Copyright © by Patti Berg. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold.
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