The folks of Bramble, Texas, believed in doing things up big. And the holidays were no exception. Every building along Main Street was decorated with garland, balls, and bows. A giant, ornament-filled Douglas fir stood in front of the town hall, fake poinsettias spouted from storefront flower boxes, and ropes of evergreen encircled each light post.
Having lived in Bramble for all of his life, the excess was nothing new to Ethan Miller. In fact, he had to admit he liked the town all spiffed up. It put him more in the mood for Christmas—which was only a day away.
As Ethan ambled along the street, he looked up at the blue west Texas skies. It was clear now, but the weather was about to change. He could feel it in his bones.
“Nice ass.”
The words caused Ethan to stop so fast that Buckwheat ran into him from behind. And being run into by a four-hundred-pound donkey could bring even a big man down in a hurry. One knee hit the cement, and he had to grab on to the back of the bench in front of Sutter’s Pharmacy to keep from landing on his face. Old Moses Tate, who was sleeping on the bench, didn’t even break-snore. Of course, without his hearing aids, the man was as deaf as a stone.
With pain shooting up his thigh, Ethan turned to get after Buckwheat for tailgating when his gaze got snagged by the woman who had just spoken. Words dried up in his mouth. Of course, words always dried up in Ethan’s mouth when he was around a woman he found attractive. And this woman he found much more than attractive. She was downright breathtaking.
Hair as thick and black as a bay horse’s tail fell around a face with high cheekbones, a button nose, and lips painted the pink of the sky right before sunrise. She wore big movie-star sunglasses that concealed her eyes and city clothes that would be useless on a farm—but were damned nice to look at. A long, red sweater hugged breasts the size of plump September peaches and curved down over slim hips that would sit real pretty in a saddle. Of course, the painted-on jeans and knee-high boots with their tall, skinny heels wouldn’t work for riding.
Leastways, not horses.
A tingling of sexual awareness settled in Ethan’s stomach. But it wasn’t the first time he’d ignored the feeling, and it wouldn’t be the last. Farm life left little time for giving in to one’s desires.
“Uhh… excuse me, ma’am?” The slow, awkward words that came out of his mouth had his face heating, and his embarrassment only grew when her pretty lips tipped up in a soft smile.
She moved away from the pharmacy window with its display of a tiny tinsel Christmas tree surrounded by brightly wrapped packages and came to stand directly in front of him. Seeing as Ethan was still kneeling, it brought those sweet peaches mere inches from his mouth. And there was no ignoring the heat that slammed into him much harder than Buckwheat.
“Are you plannin’ on makin’ a declaration, Ethan?” she said. “Or are you just takin’ a mornin’ prayer break?”
The country twang that had been missing when she’d commented on his ass was now thick and familiar. His head came up, and he squinted at her mouth, trying to visualize it without paint. But it wasn’t until she reached up and removed the sunglasses that he recognized the face. Eyes the deep blue of Morning Glories stared back at him, and Ethan’s voice rang out as clear as one of Hope Scrogg’s hog calls.
“Sam?” With only a small cringe, he climbed to his feet and within two steps had the woman in his arms. He swung her around once before he realized what he was doing. Then he quickly set her back on her feet and stepped away, more than a little embarrassed by his uncharacteristic behavior. If it had been any other woman, he would’ve been stammering his apologies like a bashful idiot.
But this was Sam.
He grinned back at her, not quite believing his eyes. “Would you look at you? I thought you’d gone and left Bramble for good.”
“I thought so too,” she said rather breathlessly. Her gaze wandered over his face as if taking in all the changes. He figured there had to be plenty. The last couple years had been hard—what with his daddy’s accident and the majority of the farm work falling to him. To a young woman five years his junior, he must look as old and weathered as a leather harness left out in the sun.
While she, on the other hand, looked as fresh as a new spring daffodil. She even smelled like flowers. He filled his lungs with the subtle, sweet scent, realizing too late the effect it would have on a man who hadn’t been this close to a woman, other than his mama, in a while. Suddenly, he felt like he had the time he’d gotten sandwiched between a couple linebackers during a high school football game—kinda dazed and loopy.
Confused by his reactions, he dropped his head and ran a hand over the back of his neck. What was the matter with him? Sure, it had been a while since he’d been around a pretty woman. But this was little Sam Henderson, who used to sneak out to the farm every chance she got. Sam, who Ethan had taught to swim and fish and ride a horse. Sam, who, up until she graduated and went off to college, was the closest thing Ethan had to a sibling—or a best friend.
In an effort to get his bodily reactions back on the right track, he reached out and ruffled her hair. “So what brings you back, little Sammy?” He glanced down at the boots. “Besides playin’ dress up?”
The soft smile slipped, and her entire body stiffened. Ethan didn’t know a lot about women, but he knew a lot about animals. And Sam suddenly seemed as pissed as Clara the barn cat when his hound dog, Hooper, got a little frisky. Those pretty eyes narrowed at him right before she placed her sunglasses back on.
“People call me Samantha now,” she said in a citified voice. “Dr. Samantha Henderson.”
He’d heard the rumor going around town about Sam becoming a doctor. But since “doctor” just didn’t seem to go with the image he’d held in his head of a skinny girl in a lopsided ponytail, he couldn’t help but laugh. Which he figured out soon enough wasn’t a good thing to do when a woman was upset already.
“Is something funny, Ethan Michael Miller?” The words came out between her even, white teeth. Her hands tightened into fists. And for a second, he wondered if she was going to haul off and slug him like she had Joe Riley when he’d teased Ethan about his size. The thought made Ethan laugh even more.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “You haven’t changed a lick in the last seven years, have you, Ethan?”
He sobered. “Seven years? No kiddin’?” He shook his head. “I guess time flies when you’re havin’ fun.”
She glared back at him. “And is your life fun, Ethan?”
The question took him by surprise. No one in town ever asked him questions like that. They asked him about his daddy and mama. Asked about his opinions on crops, animals, and weather. But never about his personal feelings. Which was probably why it took him so long to come up with an answer. Fun? No, he wouldn’t say his life was fun. It was familiar and comfortable. And that was about all a person could ask for.
Wasn’t it?
A munching noise pulled him away from his thoughts, and he turned to find Buckwheat helping himself to a midmorning snack. Although Ethan didn’t think the fake poinsettias in front of the pharmacy were a good choice. And obviously, Sam didn’t think so either.
“No!” she yelled, and those skinny heels clicked against the sidewalk as she hurried over to where Buckwheat was grazing. “Get away from there!” She waved her arms, but Buckwheat ignored her completely and continued to munch on the bright red flowers. Still, Sam had always been tenacious, and Ethan had to grin when she hooked an arm around the donkey’s neck and tried to pull him away. Too bad Buckwheat had a thing about people touching him. With one flick of his head, he threw her off balance, and she tittered on those silly heels for a second or two before landing hard on her butt.
This time Ethan was smart enough to control his laughter.
“You okay?” He ambled over and stretched out a hand. But she completely ignored it and climbed to her feet.
“I expected more from you, Ethan Miller.” She pointed a finger at Buckwheat, who’d gone back to munching the flowers. “Do you realize the kind of stomach and intestinal problems the dyes and synthetic materials could cause that poor animal?”
Figuring she had a point, Ethan made a distinct clicking noise with his tongue, and the donkey turned from the flowers and trotted over. For his reward, Ethan pulled out a carrot from his overall pocket and stroked the donkey’s soft, long ears while he ate the treat.
“I wouldn’t worry too much,” he said. “Buckwheat’s eaten worse and survived.”
Sam plucked a poinsettia leaf from the corner of the donkey’s mouth. “Obviously, he has dietary needs you’re not meeting. What are you feeding him? I hope it’s not the same thing you’re giving your horses. Donkeys need more protein and fiber.” She glanced down. “And when was the last time you trimmed his hooves? You need to do that every twelve weeks or his joints and tendons will get deformed.”
Ethan squinted at her, suddenly feeling as annoyed as she looked. He might not have a doctorate, but he knew animals. And he sure didn’t need a sassy woman in crazy shoes telling him how to take care of his donkey. Especially a woman who used to think he hung the moon.
He pulled off his straw cowboy hat and scratched his head. “You know a lot about donkeys, do ya, Samantha Louise? Because I seem to remember a young skinny girl who was terrified to get on a horse.” He lifted an eyebrow. “And it took a good three months to convince her otherwise. ’Course, that girl didn’t look nothin’ like the one standin’ before me. So maybe I’m wrong.”
Before Sam could do more than sputter, Rachel Dean’s voice rang out.
“Why, Samantha Henderson, I thought that was you!” She hurried across the street, wiping her large hands on her waitressing apron. She grabbed Sam up and gave her a big bear hug. “I didn’t realize you was comin’ in for the holidays. Last I heard, you was goin’ to some fancy college back East to become a doctor.”
Since Sam’s face was squashed against Rachel Dean’s holiday corsage, she had to wait to be released before she could answer. “I graduated just last week.”
Rachel beamed. “Why, ain’t that somethin’? Little Sam Henderson a doctor. Maybe later I can get you to take a look at my bunions. The medicine Doc Mathers prescribed don’t work a lick.”
“I’d love to help you, Rachel,” Sam said. “But I’m not that kind of a doctor.” She looked over at Ethan and tipped her cute little nose in the air. “I’m a doctor of veterinary medicine.”
Ethan felt like he’d been kicked in the stomach by Buckwheat. Ever since he was old enough to help his father with the livestock, Ethan had wanted to become a veterinarian. But besides not having enough money, his parents had needed his help on the farm. So he’d put his dream on the shelf. In fact, the only person who knew about his secret desire was the same woman rubbing his nose in it. It was enough to make a grown man want to toss down his hat and cuss a blue streak. But farm folk weren’t ones to show their emotions. So instead, he plopped his hat back on his head and nodded to both ladies.
“I best be gettin’ Buckwheat over to Lowell’s barn.”
“We sure appreciate you takin’ care of all the animals for the live nativity over at The First Baptist, Ethan,” Rachel Dean said. “Nobody handles animals better than you do. Why, it’s almost like you speak their language. Sorta like that Doctor Doolittle feller—without the singin’, of course.”
Ethan had to fight down the strong urge to snort a “hah” at Sam. Still, Rachel Dean’s praise didn’t change the jealousy that ate at his insides. A gift was one thing, a diploma something else entirely. While most of his knowledge came from what he could scrounge up on the Internet or in library books, Sam had been taught by the top experts in the field.
“Why don’t you come on over to the diner, Sam?” Rachel Dean said. “If anything will put meat back on those skinny bones of yours, it’s Josephine’s chicken fried steak. And while you eat, I’ll fill you in on all the juicy gossip. Things have sure been excitin’ while you’ve been gone.”
Sam hesitated, as if there was something else she wanted to say to Ethan. But as far as he was concerned, they’d said everything they needed to. The little Sam Henderson he once knew was long gone. And he had no use for an uppity vet who didn’t understand the first thing about a man’s pride.
“Goodbye, Ethan,” Sam said in a voice that didn’t sound all that uppity. A gust of cool December wind blew her hair over her face. She pushed it back and sent Ethan one last look before Rachel tugged her across the street toward the bright pink caboose that served as Josephine’s Diner.
Ethan stood on the sidewalk and watched as they walked away, his gaze trailing down the length of ebony hair to the curvy behind covered in the painted-on jeans. He was still as mad as a dog on bath day, but that didn’t seem to stop two words from popping into his head.
Nice ass.