Eli Boone closed the door to the exam room and leaned against it for a moment. When he’d agreed to see a last-minute patient as a favor to his scheduler, he’d had no idea his world would turn upside down. It’d been quite a while since he’d had a date. Hook-ups, yes. Dates, no. But since moving to Whispering Springs two months ago, he’d even forgone the hook-ups. When Hank Kelly had asked him to come to Whispering Springs, he’d warned Eli about small town gossip.

“Watch out for the gossip grapevine.” Hank had said. “And no local hook-ups, unless you want a shotgun wedding.”

Eli had laughed, but Hank had added, “Trust me on this. Drive on into Dallas if you’re looking for…temporary companionship. The women in Whispering Springs are great, don’t get me wrong. But all the ones I know are looking for the gold band and white picket fence.”

Eli had had the gold band, but instead of a white picket fence, he and his wife had had a twentieth-floor apartment in Manhattan. When Gina had died, he’d kept it for a while, but finally he’d sold. Just too many memories.

So, no. He wasn’t looking for a gold band, white picket fence or shotgun wedding. For now, he had a close and loving relationship with his right hand.

However, Marti Jenkins, with her laugh and that mischievous twinkle in her eye, made him wish he could get to know her a little better. She intrigued him. The first woman to do so in forever.

He pushed off the door and turned Marti over to his nurse. It was better that he move on to other duties. Lust for a patient was a complete no-no.

He headed up one floor to physical therapy. Looking around, he had to admit that his old classmate had put together a first class facility. The first floor housed a pharmacy, administrative offices, a small café and a heated pool for therapy. The second floor held all the diagnostic services, clinic and treatment rooms, and private offices for the physicians. And finally, the top level was completely utilized by physical therapy activities. It was a very sweet setup.

The physical therapy area was in full swing. Therapists worked with clients on mats, weights, rolling balls, stationary bikes, and other various devices of torture, as the patients called them. Sitting off to one side in a wheelchair was a sandy-haired teen, Joe Manson.

Last year, Joe had broken the state record in the one-hundred yard dash. Twenty-four hours later, he’d been riding shotgun with three friends when a drunk driver hit them head-on. Two of the three boys had been killed instantly. One had walked away with cuts and bruises. Joe’s legs had been amputated in the metal wreckage. Actually, he was lucky to be alive, but he didn’t see it that way. Most days, he let everyone know that he wished he’d died.

“Joe,” Eli called, walking across the room to the teen. “How’s it going?”

“I’m alive,” Joe said with scowl. “Not my choice.”

Eli decided to not comment on the attitude. “I’ve been reviewing your chart. You’ve made incredible progress. Lucky for you, teens heal quicker than adults. You were in superb condition before the accident. That’s also helped the speed of your recovery.”

Joe shrugged. “My superb condition didn’t do shit for me. I’m still a pathetic cripple.”

“Yeah, aren’t you tired of that?”

Joe’s head jerked. “You calling me a cripple?”

Eli shrugged nonchalantly. “Hey, apparently that’s what you want to be.”

Joe’s eyebrows lowered in a threat. “If I could get out of this chair, I’d kick your ass.”

Eli leaned close. “Oh yeah? Then get out of that chair and do it.”

“You’re a bastard, Dr. Boone.” Joe swung his arm across the stumps that used to be his legs. “How the hell do you propose I do that, asshole? Walk on my stumps?”

“No, I propose you learn to walk on artificial legs—unless you like the idea of riding around in a chair the rest of your life. Given that you’re only sixteen, you’ve got a long life ahead.” He gave Joe a pass on the cussing. Hell, truth to tell, he’d probably be as angry as this kid. Life sucked sometimes.

The teen scoffed. “Right. Like any girl is going to date a guy with fake legs.”

This time, Eli scoffed. “Give me a break. I guess you haven’t noticed that we’ve been fighting a war for over a decade. Many of our brave men and women who once would have died due to their injuries now make it home missing a leg or arm or more. Many of them have found love and families and great lives. In fact, I read a story just the other day about a double amputee being sworn in as a new deputy with the Whispering Springs Sheriff’s Department. So, if all these other folks have learned to walk, run, and have families, how are you so special that you can’t, too? Or do you enjoy being… What was it you said?” He snapped his fingers. “Oh yeah. A pathetic cripple.”

Joe’s face reddened in anger. “Fuck you.” He grabbed the wheels of his chair to roll away.

Eli grabbed the chair’s handles to stop the teen from leaving. “Let me help you. I can. Before I came here, I did years of work with amputees.”

The teen’s whole body sagged. “You don’t understand.”

“Try me.”

For a minute, the kid said nothing, just stared at the floor. Then he met Eli’s gaze. “I was somebody. All the guys envied me. I could date any girl I wanted. There wasn’t anything I couldn’t do.” He shook his head. “Now, I can’t even stand up to take a piss.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” Eli pulled a rolling stool over and sat. He hated when people stood over him to talk. It always made him feel diminished somehow, which was why he always sat in treatment rooms when he interacted with patients. “You can stand and piss if you want. You can walk, if you want. In fact, you can run again. But all that is up to you.”

The teen grimaced. “I hate those fake legs.”

Eli nodded. “Yeah, I’m glad we’ve gotten past the wooden peg leg too.”

Joe looked at him, and for the first time, laughed. “You’re crazy.”

Eli grinned. “Seriously, the new legs we have today are incredible. Of course you’ll have to learn how to walk on new legs, but you’re young and healthy. Your muscle tone is still excellent. How about this? When’s your next physical therapy appointment?”

“Wednesday.”

“How about I let you talk to some of the war vets who live here and have faced exactly what you’re facing? They can tell you the real truth instead of you getting all your information from a two-legger.” He pointed to his own legs. When Joe hesitated, Eli added, “Do this for me. If you decide to stay on wheels instead of prosthetics after you talk to some fellow amputees, I won’t bug you about it again. Your decision.”

The teen was too young to spend the next sixty years in a chair, especially since there was no need. Eli knew some very persuasive vets. If he couldn’t get Joe up, then those vets could.

When Eli arrived at the third floor the following Wednesday, Joe was surrounded by five amputees. Four of them were vets. One of the guys had lost a leg in a motorcycle accident. Eli had asked him to come because he figured Joe would identify with the accident.

But it wasn’t just Joe caught up in the men’s conversation. Many of the other physical therapy patients listened as they worked out replaced knees or rehabbed from some other surgery. The therapy center was loud, laughter mixing with groans and grunts.

Joe’s face was a combination of awe, fear—and maybe for the first time—hope. The motorcycle rider had his wallet out showing pictures of his new baby. Not to be outdone, a couple of vets were waving their pictures and bragging about their children.

Yes, this was what Joe needed to see. Normalcy. Men having great lives, great wives, children, jobs, and hobbies. He needed to understand that life went on—with or without his legs—and it was up to him to grab on and ride it like the badasses standing around him.

One of the vets announced he was late and had to get home before his wife hid his leg as punishment. Joe looked stunned. The other guys cracked up. Then comprehension dawned on Joe’s face and he laughed.

While they were saying their goodbyes, Eli checked with the head of the physical therapy unit to see whether there was anything that needed his attention. There wasn’t, which made Eli free for the afternoon.

Joe was still smiling when Eli rolled the stool over.

“What’d you think?” Eli asked

“Did you know there’s sort of an amputee club in Whispering Springs? I mean, it’s not a formal club, but the guys get together and do things?”

Eli nodded. “Yup. There are some excellent resources in this town. For example, did you know there’s a nearby ranch that specializes in working with vets who are dealing with post-traumatic stress disorder?”

Joe shook his head. “Man, that’s kind of cool.”

“It is. It’s owned by a military vet and his wife.”

“You been there?”

Eli shook his head then leaned closer. “I’ll tell you a secret. I am terrified of horses.”

Joe’s eyes widen and his mouth sagged in astonishment. “You’re kidding. I love to ride.” His face fell as his body sagged. “Well, I used to love to ride.”

Eli’s heart went out to the boy. “Now, don’t hold me to this. I’ll have to do some homework, but I’m pretty sure you can still ride. Nothing about being a double amputee stops that.” He smiled. “Want me to check it out?”

“Yes!” Joe said, his eyes misting a bit.

“I’ll do that for you—if you’ll give the prosthetic legs a serious try.”

Joes gave him a crooked smile. “Oh, I’d already decided to do that.”

“Perfect. I’ll get moving on that for you.” He began to rise.

Joe reached out to stop him. “But I want you to do something for me.”

Eli nodded and lowered back to the stool. “If I can, sure.”

“I’ve done the reading, and I know it’s going to take this summer to get good on my new legs.”

“That sounds about right, but the prosthetist will be able to tell you more.”

“I know, but while I’m learning to walk, I want you to learn to ride horses.”

Eli’s stomach dropped. “Excuse me?”

“Man, you’re missing the best high. Being on a horse, racing through the pastures is the coolest thing ever. You can’t live in Texas and not know how to ride a horse.”

Eli pushed a smile onto his face. “I don’t know, Joe. I’m only going to be here a few more months.”

Joe laughed. “So you’re telling me that I can learn to wear fake legs, learn to walk, run and even ride a horse but you, with two good legs, can’t learn just one of those things?”

His heart pounding against his chest, Eli said, “I’ll think about it.”

Joe raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? You promise?”

“I promise.”

Did a promise count if he crossed his fingers at the same time?

* * *

Marti had been on her air cast for a whopping four days and was already sick of it. Oh, she could walk just fine. And the pain was getting better, but she hated the damaged image she presented to her ranch hands and herself. You’d think she’d broken her back and was paralyzed the way her family and ranch hands treated her. Someone was always handing her stuff, or asking how she was doing. Argh. She’d had enough. But it was Friday, so maybe tomorrow she could get away from all the caring eyes for a while.

She was still using her grandfather’s cane occasionally to stabilize herself, and keep as much weight off her ankle as she could. From what the nurse had explained, and from online research she’d done, keeping her full, one-hundred and thirty-five pounds off her ankle could help the speed with which her ankle healed. Heaven knew, she wanted to be back to normal as soon as possible. She pushed up from the chair in her bedroom, established a good balance, and made her way down the stairs to the kitchen and a cup of coffee with her name on it.

“Oh, honey. What are you doing down here?” her mother exclaimed. “I would have brought you coffee.” She held up the walkie-talkie on the counter. “All you had to do was ask.”

“I didn’t want to ask,” Marti said through clenched teeth. “I’ve been looking at the walls in my room for days. I’ve got to get outside or go crazy.”

Her mother laughed. “Please. Days? You spent yesterday in your room, but only because I hid your air cast. You shouldn’t be going out to the barn or the pastures. You need spend another day in your room resting.”

“No way, no how. I need to get down to the barn. Check on the new calves. And we’ve got those two teens from the Whispering Springs Police Department program starting. I need to make sure everything is ready.”

Her mother shook her head. “You don’t have to do everything around here, you know.”

Marti sat at the table and rolled her eyes up to where her mother stood. “I know, but with you and dad planning to take the summer to travel, you need to know you’re leaving the ranch in good hands.”

Her mother hugged her. “We know we are. You don’t have anything to prove to us. Besides, we don’t leave for another week, and if need be, we can delay the trip.”

“Absolutely not,” Marti said. “You won’t have to. My ankle’s already feeling so much better.”

“We’ll see,” her mother said, raising a brow.

After a quick breakfast, Marti climbed onto the ATV parked at the backdoor and rode it down to the barn. Any other morning, she would have walked, but Dr. Boone—the scorching hot Dr. Boone—had stressed, as did his nurse, that she should put as little weight on her ankle to help the healing. She wasn’t supposed to be on a horse, dangling legs and all, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t help out with the daily barn chores.

She checked in with the ranch foreman and took over the grooming that needed to be done. Pedro was reassigned from grooming horses to literally shoveling shit from the stalls. The job switch was met with groans and protests, but he winked at Marti as he left Rascal’s stall. She was just laying out her combs and brushes when the foreman called her back to the barn office.

“You’ve got a call,” he said, handing her the receiver.

“Hello?”

“Martha? This is Dr. Boone. I wanted to see how you were getting along with the boot.”

His deep voice jabbed her gut, making her pull in her abdomen in response.

“Call me Marti,” she said. “I’m doing fine. Swelling’s down. Pain’s better. Overall, I think I’ll be back to normal before you know it.”

“That’s great. Good to hear. I, um, like to check on my patients to make sure they’re doing okay.”

“I am. Thank you for calling.” She paused. “Is there anything else?”

She crossed her fingers this call was a ruse to ask her out. What woman wouldn’t want to be seen with the attractive new doctor in town? Not a relationship sort of thing. She didn’t need the hassles that went with those, but some male attention would be welcome. After all, her handheld shower massager was beginning to show signs of excessive wear and tear.

“Well, now that you ask, I wonder if I might drop by and discuss a project with you.”

“A project?” Her fingers uncrossed.

Damn it. Why did she seem to draw the attention of men who needed something from her? Besides sex, she amended.

“I…” She hesitated. “Sure, why not?”

“Great. This afternoon work? About four?”

“Sure,” she repeated. “See you then.”

She went back into Rascal’s stall, picked up a grooming brush and began running it along the horse’s side.

“So,” she said to Rascal. “Guess who I just talked to?”

He shook his mane, which she interpreted as, “Tell me more.”

“Dr. Hottie.” A ripple ran along Rascal’s back, which could have been the brush, or maybe Rascal had a sense of exactly how sexy the doctor was.

“Oh,” a suspiciously Hispanic male voice said through the wall from the next stall. “I bet he wants to kiss you.” This statement was followed by loud kissing noises and a giggle.

“I don’t know, Rascal,” she said, playing along. “But I know one thing. Pedro is going on the mucking list for the rest of the week if I see him in the next two minutes.”

“This isn’t Pedro,” the voice said. “This is Rascal.” This was followed by a girl’s giggle.

Marti rolled her eyes. Her latest police department offenders were a couple of seventeen-year-old girls who’d been caught throwing toilet paper into the trees in the high school yard. They’d been sentenced to the ranch for a month of stall mucking.

“Uh-huh. Now that I’m done with you, Rascal, I’ll be moving to Jack’s stall.” She dragged her feet in the straw to make extra noise as she moved toward the door.

She heard four feet shuffling hurriedly in the next stall, the creak of Jack’s stall door, and pounding as Pedro and one of the girls ran for the exit. Still, she couldn’t keep from grinning. Hot Doc was coming, even if he had an agenda. It was possible his “project” was an excuse to see her.

She didn’t know, but that sounded so much better to her ego.

About three, she called it a day and headed up to the house. She stepped into the outdoor shower, securing the door behind her. After a day covered in manure, dirt, blood, and a number of unidentifiable splotches, she was glad to shuck her clothes for a shower. She rolled up everything and shoved it through the chute into the laundry room.

Years ago, her mother had gotten tired of the smells and muck that came in on her husband’s clothes. For Christmas one year, she’d requested a shower that could be accessed from the outside and be adjacent to her laundry room. Of course the various odors still filled her laundry room when the clothes went through the chute, but she’d assured him the addition was exactly what she’d wanted, keeping the various ranch aromas from the rest of the house.

As the warm water sluiced down her body carrying away the evidence of her day, Marti decided her mother was one intelligent woman. Now that she was keeping house and doing her own clothes, she appreciated the idea of having a home that didn’t smell like the barn.

After wrapping in a towel, she opened the door that led to an interior hall and made her way to her bedroom. She wasn’t putting on fresh clothes because of Dr. Boone. She would have done this even if her afternoon visitor had been old man Hopkins.

Right, Marti. No one would be fooled with that story, especially herself.

A little before four, she poured a glass of wine, grabbed the latest Cattlemen Magazine and snapped it open to a pasture management article. It didn’t hold her interest. She tossed the glossy magazine on the sofa and picked up today’s paper to do the crossword. That would distract her, not that she was anxious about seeing Dr. Boone.

At ten minutes past four, her cell phone buzzed. The screen readout was Riverside Orthopedics. Ah. He was running late. How like a doctor.

“Hello?”

“Martha Jenkins?” a female voice asked.

“Yes.”

“Ms. Jenkins. This is Debbie Watts from Riverside Ortho. Dr. Boone asked that I call and let you know that he was called into emergency surgery and wouldn’t be able to keep the appointment for this afternoon.”

“Oh.” The bottom dropped out of Marti’s heart. “Well, I guess these things happen.”

“All the time,” the nurse said.

“Thank you for the call.”

“Sure thang.”

Well, shoot. Here she was on a Friday night, all cleaned up with nowhere to go. No use letting all this makeup go to waste. Two calls later and she was meeting Delene Younger and Tina Baker at Leo’s Bar and Grill for some dinner, drinking, and dancing. Oh, and she might throw in a little Dr. Hottie gossip just for Delene.