Payton looked up hopefully when she heard the truck pull in, but it was a maroon Chevy, not the veterinarian's white truck she was waiting on. When Brock stepped out of the truck, her heart skipped a beat, and she wanted to cry out her fear. She wanted for him to hold her and tell her that everything was going to be okay.

"What happened?" he asked, striding up to her.

She shook her head back and forth. "I'm not even sure. I woke up this afternoon and everything was fine. Went out a little later to get them ready for Caleb and Espresso was standing in the corner of the pasture with her head down, blood streaming from her chest. The other horses were in a bubble around her. They knew she was hurt."

Brock ran his hand down the mare's neck and leaned over to look at her chest.

"I've flushed it with water several times and felt inside for anything still there, but I can't feel anything."

The wound in the mare’s chest was big enough that she'd been able to fit her whole hand inside. It made it easier to clean out, but the wound was just so big. She didn't know if there was any way to seal it up. Tears started in her eyes again, but she forced them away. Crying would only make the situation harder to deal with.

Horses, in general, were accident-prone creatures. She'd dealt with many catastrophic injuries and had even lost a few horses over the years, but this was still traumatic. Even her vast experience as a paramedic didn't help her now. These were her babies. Essie, short for Espresso, was her newest and already also one of her favorites.

Brock probed the wound with his fingers but Essie snorted, not appreciating the contact. She swung around on the end of the lead rope Payton held.

"It doesn't look like she hit anything vital. I think it's just a nasty flesh wound."

Hearing him confirm what she'd already thought, prayed, sent relief running through Payton's body then the tears really did start.

Brock looked at her and gave her a reassuring smile, his eyes creasing. "I really do think she'll be okay. Might have a nasty scar but you don't care about that."

Payton shook her head. "I don't care what she looks like as long as she's okay."

"We'll flush her out for a few more minutes and when the vet comes we'll put her in the cross ties in the barn."

Payton nodded, too relieved to have him there with her to articulate it. "Thank you for coming over."

Brock gave her a little wink. "It'll all work out."

Dr. Ian Young, arrived just a few minutes later. He wasn't her normal vet, but he'd worked on her animals before.

"Sorry, Dr. Carver is on another call otherwise she'd have been here."

Dr. Young was good-looking, and well-liked by the people of Honeywell. He'd signed on to Gabby Carver's practice a couple months ago when she got so loaded down with work after one of the older vets retired. Though he was older than the usual newly graduated veterinarian, he still had a bold enthusiasm for his job. It made his bright golden cat eyes shine.

Payton knew that the women of Honeywell had been stalking the guy. She also knew from a friend who worked at the practice that women calling in for elective appointments were hoping to be assigned to the tall, muscular man.

He spoke softly to the horse for a moment, before leaning down to look into the wound. "Did you find anything when you flushed it out?"

"No," Payton said, stroking the mare's neck. Brock stood on the other side of the horse, hand resting on her mane.

Dr. Young whistled between his teeth as he gloved up and began poking at the wound. The mare shifted.

"Let me sedate her a little. I want her to stay on her feet but this is going to be a painful fix."

Essie wasn't wild about the needle in her neck, but she seemed to understand that they were trying to help her.

"Do you have any idea what she ran into?" the doctor asked.

"No. I looked here around the barn but I haven't been out in the main pasture."

"You better find whatever it is," he cautioned her.

Payton nodded. She'd planned on finding it anyway.

Once sedated, her head hanging low, Essie became much easier to handle. But then her head hung too low, impeding Dr. Young's repairs. Payton slipped under the mare's neck and wedged her shoulder beneath the mare's jaw, lifting it out of the way so that the vet could work.

She couldn't see what was going on anymore, and it put her into intimate eye-line with Brock's broad chest, but she could deal with it. One of the pearl buttons on his shirt had been broken and a soft cloud of black chest hair filled the V. She wanted to reach out and touch.

Ten minutes later, though, her thighs were quivering from the strain of keeping the horse's head up. Brock seemed to sense that she was giving out. Wedging a hand under the mare's jaw he motioned her out of the way. "I'll hold her for a while."

Once again, her throat tightened. He didn't have to be here helping, he had his own things to do. And he was probably dealing with his own pain, though she didn’t see any indication of it on his grim face. She knew Caleb had been heading over there to shoe a bunch of the Blue Star horses. She appreciated his presence nonetheless.

Dr. Young had cleaned out the wound and began stitching the inner muscle closed. It looked to be tedious work, maneuvering the needle back and forth through the thick flesh. He did something at the bottom, pulled something tight, and a couple inches of muscle pulled together. He tied off the suture material then switched out his needle and thread. The injury still bled a lot, but Payton was beginning to see how he was pulling it all together.

"This wound is not very old," he murmured. "When you go to the field I have a feeling you'll be looking for a tipped in fence post or a heavy branch pointed sharp-side up."

"Okay."

As soon as Essie was treated, in her stall and out of danger, Payton would head out to see what she could find.

Payton offered to swap off with Brock again, but he shook his head at her. He didn't even look to be straining, so Payton knelt back down on the dirt floor to watch the rest of the procedure.

Dr. Young stitched a drain into the bottom of the wound. "We can't have this thing holding infection in so I'm going to stitch this into place. I'll come out to remove it in about ten days."

Payton was familiar with the procedure. She'd had other wounds on the ranch, and seen them her father's ranch through the years that needed to drain like this.

It was a gory mess to stitch up but when he rinsed Essie’s chest with the hose, the skin was amazingly tight. He had done an excellent job. "That looks really good, Dr. Young."

"Ian, please." He smiled up at her and Payton had a feeling he didn't offer his first name to all of his patients' owners.

Payton smiled at him and nodded. "Okay, Ian."

The doctor readied a few shots. "This is a tetanus shot and a heavy dose of antibiotics."

Payton nodded as Ian shot Essie in the butt, then also gave her a shot to bring her out of sedation. After a few minutes, Essie straightened away from Brock's strong arm.

"She'll probably be in pain for a few days. Give her some Bute if you think she needs it. And stall her for now. If she's running with the other horses, she'll rip those stitches open."

Payton nodded again. "Will do."

Essie wouldn't like it, but Payton would be sure to keep her as calm as possible. The mare loved to run and play. This would surely put a crimp in her tail.

Payton left Brock in charge of the horse and ran inside for her checkbook while Dr. Young wrote up the bill. Ian. She cringed. Ian just didn't sound right in her mind yet. He hadn't been around long enough for her to know him well. She’d known Gabby Carver forever and calling her by her first name just came naturally. Wait a minute, had he been hitting on her when he offered her his first name? Oh boy.

Payton wrote the check for the amount he quoted her, then waved him goodbye. Dr. Young looked at Brock for a moment, tipped his hat and gave Payton a big smile. "Back in a week and a half."

She waved weakly, wishing that she could return some of his enthusiasm as well. Ian Young seemed like a nice guy, but he wasn't for her.

She looked at Brock standing at the corner of her barn. The light had waned to evening, and his hard face was hidden beneath the brim of his hat. "He seems like a nice guy."

Payton wasn't sure why he mentioned it. "Yes, he does. I went with Cheyenne the other day when Daisy cut her paw open. He fixed her right up."

"Hmm..."

Payton unhooked Essie from the cross ties and led her to a stocked stall. The mare still seemed a little out of it, but she started lipping the hay as soon as she went in. Payton slid the heavy stall door closed, watching her.

"She'll be okay," Brock told her, resting a hand on her shoulder.

"I know."

He began moving his hand, massaging the tense muscles in her shoulder. Payton held completely still, wondering if he even realized what he was doing.

No, probably not.

She hadn't seen Brock for several days, not since the Oasis. She'd avoided him deliberately, knowing that that was the smartest thing to do right now. She'd pushed him pretty hard that day.

Since then she'd been working, trying to get back onto her schedule after the chaos of the round-up. That had been pure craziness. Not the round-up itself. It had gone surprisingly well considering how many people they'd been down. Chad, Lora and Mercy coming home to take up the slack had really made a difference. It had allowed everyone to shift and accommodate where they needed to while Francine and Garrett slipped into different roles.

It had been the first time Brock had been in complete control of everything. Even though he was stressed and busy, he'd kept everything running the way it was supposed to. And Jackson had been the perfect right-hand man, putting out fires and keeping situations from derailing. He'd corrected Tara Johnson when she'd needed it, and word had gotten back through the town grapevine.

Spoiled by her daddy, Tara had gained a reputation as a conceited bitch over the years. There weren't many people around that would, or could, correct her behavior. The fact that she'd had her hand slapped at the Blue Star round up had been broadcast far and wide. Payton wouldn't be surprised if pictures somehow showed up. At the Johnson round-up right after that, she'd been conspicuously missing.

Payton leaned into Brock's touch. She’d done a lot of running during round up, her time split between home and the Lowell place— cooking food or helping out, watching Cheyenne's kids, and her actual job as a Floyd County paramedic. She'd had three days of true rest, but she’d still felt like she was running behind.

"Do you have to work tonight?"

She shook her head without opening her eyes. "I switched with Connor Leary for the night. I'll take his morning shift."

"Will you be able to sleep tonight?"

His deep voice had moved closer, right behind her ear, and she fought a shiver. "I think so. Maybe I'll just bed down in the stall with Essie."

"I don't think you'd get any actual rest."

"I don't know," she said carefully. "You keep rubbing me like that and I'll fall asleep standing up. Essie's stall is pretty close if I fall over."

As she'd expected, as soon as she pointed out what he was doing, Brock stopped. Damn it. Should have kept my mouth shut.

Then, amazingly, he kept rubbing. But the touch turned more deliberate, more even. He'd shifted directly behind her and began massaging with both hands. Payton moaned, her shoulders going lax, and she had to catch herself before her legs gave out. Reaching her arms out, she braced them against the barn wall, leaning forward. Brock dug his thumbs into the muscles along her spine and she could have cried. In her wildest fantasies, she couldn't have asked for anything better.

---

Brock realized he was in trouble as he looked down at her hourglass shape in front of him and had the most vivid image of taking her this way. What the hell was he thinking? This was Payton, Cheyenne's best friend. He forced the image from his mind, but he couldn't pull his hands away just yet. She felt so soft and womanly, her bones so much smaller than his own. Though she was a voluptuous woman, she still seemed delicate.

In fact though, Payton was not delicate. During the round up she'd ridden hard just like the rest of them, then cooked for the crew and watched Cheyenne's critters, all without saying a word of protest. Brock had paid hands that complained far more than Payton ever did.

For the first time, he really thought about everything she'd done for the Lowell family. Time after time, she'd been there for them. Round-ups, sicknesses, hard times, tight times, you name it, she'd been there.

A conversation came back to him. He'd gone into Sophia's some years ago to grab some lunch and, Payton's dad Rex Hanniford had been there with Payton's brother Hunter at the cash register. Brock had greeted him like he always did and Rex had given him a narrow-eyed look. "You seen that daughter of mine recently?"

Brock thought back. "I think her truck was in Cheyenne's driveway when I went by."

Rex had tipped his chin up in acknowledgment. His green eyes had softened. "Maybe you can let her know we miss seeing her sweet face. It's been almost a week and we only live ten miles away."

Brock had been surprised. Payton loved her family, he knew that. Why wouldn't she be seeing them?

"I absolutely will, Rex. I know Cheyenne's been having some trouble, so maybe that's where she's been."

The excuse sounded weak even to him, but Rex nodded and wished him a good day as he paid his bill and left.

Later on that evening he'd gone in to the main house for dinner and she'd been there. "Saw your daddy and brother at Sophia's earlier. They'd like to see you."

She'd blushed a little and looked away, and he had seen the guilt on her face. At the time, he'd considered that her issue, and thought nothing more of it. That had been the year Cheyenne's marriage had imploded.

Obviously, Payton had been hanging at Cheyenne's house as much as possible to protect her and the kids from Wade, Cheyenne's husband. Cheyenne had a new baby then, and Brock remembered they'd been trying to patch things up, but it hadn't happened.

Payton and her protective instincts always seemed to be in the middle of everything. The paramedic job suited her perfectly because it was her nature to help people. That was one of the most amazing things about her.

These small shoulders he had in his hands could carry the loads of so many people.

So in spite of the arousal tightening his body, he continued to rub her back because she needed it. At one point she staggered, as though her knees had given out before she'd caught herself. Brock wrapped his arm around her waist, bracing her. "Are you okay?"

Payton turned her head to him. "I'm fine."

Her skin looked pink, like she was embarrassed he'd wrapped his arm around her. Or maybe she was just aware of how very close they stood now. Brock's hips were right behind her own and she had to feel his excitement. For a moment, he just held her there, feeling her against him, before he removed his arm and stepped away.

When she turned around, the embarrassment had faded from her eyes, but the awareness was still there. "Thank you for that, Brock."

She seemed about to say something else, but she cut herself off.

"What were you going to say?" he asked, curious.

She shrugged and looked away. "Nothing. I'm just not used to being touched like that, or taken care of. Thank you."

The thought of no one taking care of her brought him up short. But then, no one took care of him either. They were kind of in the same boat.

"What about your deputy? Or your professor?"

Payton snorted. "He's not my professor. He's just a guy I like to hang out with sometimes."

Brock wasn't sure he like the idea of her 'hanging out' with anyone. But what right did he have to say otherwise?

"Why do you like to hang out with them?” he asked instead. “What do they do for you?"

Brock swallowed as Payton narrowed her eyes at him, obviously trying to decide if he were honestly interested or not. He was, because he'd never been in a long-term relationship himself. Yes, he'd had more than his share of hook-ups over the years, but none of the women had signed on to be more than bed buddies. If they campaigned for more, he just cut them loose.

Payton shrugged her shoulders, inadvertently making her breasts jiggle. Brock tried not to let his gaze linger, because if she caught him, it would ruin the moment. He jerked his eyes up. Luckily, Payton had looked out through the barn toward the house.

"When I feel like I've been in my little world too long and things are getting stale, they open up new conversations. Morgan, especially, is a friend. I can talk to him about anything."

She kind of winced when she said that and Brock wondered if she was being truthful. Maybe she didn't want to tell him much because of his reaction earlier.

Did he run the chance of alienating her if he spoke too harshly?

In spite of his misgivings he took a breath as he glanced out the barn door as well. "How did you meet him?"

She crossed her arms beneath her breasts and he could tell she was debating whether or not to answer him. Her pink lips were pursed and her eyes narrowed, but something about her stance struck him as beautiful. Strong. Eventually she shrugged again. "We get a lot of the same calls. Car wrecks, bar fights," she said pointedly, "the squad gets called as much as the cops do. We talk. It happens."

Yeah, he could see that. It didn't mean he had to approve of the connection though.

Curiosity ate at him, but he clenched his jaw and breathed through it. "Why don't you go in and relax. I'll go look through your field and see what I can see."

She shook her head, scraping her fingers through her hair and swinging it behind her shoulder. "No, that's okay. I'll do it. That way I'll know I got whatever it is that hurt her."

"Come on then," he told her gruffly.

They entered the ten acre pasture, split apart about a hundred feet, and started walking toward the back of the piece. It didn't take them long to find the dead tree laying down over the fence, or the single jagged broken branch sticking up at a forty-five degree angle. The telling sign was the blood on the end of the broken branch.

Brock grabbed the piece in his strong hands and rocked it back and forth until it broke again, near the ground, then he tossed the piece back toward the fence. "I don't think the horses will get out around all these branches. In the afternoon, I'll come over with the chain saw and take care of this. Or I'll send one of the men over."

"I can call my brother."

Brock shrugged. "I'm closer."

They walked back to the house in silence and the tiredness really began to weigh on Payton. He could see her steps beginning to drag. Shooing the horses away when they tried to crowd around her, Brock opened the gate and let her through before closing it behind them.

"Thank you, Brock. You didn't have to come over but I really appreciate that you did."

He shoved his fingers into his pockets, suddenly hating that he had to leave. The security light at the corner of the yard flickered on, illuminating her cheeks and the tip of her little nose. "Don't worry about it. I'm glad I could help you out," he told her truthfully.

Brock had to grit his teeth. He wanted to kiss her goodnight before he left, and he could tell by the look in her eyes that she wanted that as well. It took every bit of willpower to stand still and not lean forward to take her mouth.

Suddenly she turned, heading toward the house. "Good night, Brock."

Her curvy ass swayed up the steps to her porch and she let herself inside the house.

Well, hell.

She'd done exactly what his mind said she needed to do, and he hated it.

What the hell had happened to him? For the better part of fifteen years, he'd known and enjoyed Payton as his sister's best friend. For the past two weeks, suddenly, she'd become a siren to him. Why now? What had suddenly opened his eyes?

As he climbed into the truck, Brock smacked his fists against the steering wheel. Her leaving him in the drive was the best thing that could have happened. There was a strong pull, there, he would admit that, but he didn’t want to be the one responsible for tarnishing her reputation. If he slept with her and it got out, it would look like he was using her, and he didn’t want that. They were not cut out to be in a relationship together.