“Besides, it’s got to be better than the frozen dinners I’ve cooked for myself whenever I didn’t come into town for a meal.”

  She had a sudden image of Drake alone in the small cabin eating a microwaved meal by himself and felt a twinge of sympathy. She had so many friends, while he... No, she would not feel sorry for him. He could always go back to Virginia and resume his old life. For whatever reason, he’d chosen to stay here and be lonely.

  “I’ve had Lily’s lentil soup,” she said. “It’s good. Come on up to the house when you’re finished here.” She turned and walked away. All the way to the house she lectured herself about not letting down her guard.

  She knew all about the big flaw in Drake’s character. That should have been enough to keep her far, far away from him. Her mother had been seduced by a charmer like Drake, but her mother hadn’t had Tracy’s advantage of knowing she was dealing with a cheating bastard.

  Yes, he was coming to her aid at the moment, and she was thrilled about that. But she couldn’t let gratitude and her natural susceptibility override her good judgment. Somehow she had to strike a balance between being properly appreciative and throwing herself into his arms in a fit of lust. She wondered if simple friendship was an option. That might be the safe middle ground, assuming she could pull it off.

  Drake had betrayed his best friend, someone Tracy greatly admired. As she stood in the kitchen chopping veggies for the potbellied pigs, she faced a truth she’d been unwilling to admit until now. Drake was also extremely likable. Her choices would be so much easier if he could behave like an arrogant jerk. Then she’d have no trouble separating the guys in the white hats from the ones in the black hats.

  She finished filling the bowls for Wilbur and Harley and carried them out to their pens. At one time the two pigs had been free to roam the yard, but the bigger one, Harley, had bullied Wilbur into giving up his food. Now they each had a separate pen for mealtimes, although both had a gate out to a common yard and mud hole they could enjoy together when they weren’t eating.

  Tracy set a bowl in each pen and then quickly closed them in their respective homes. “That’s the answer.” She leaned against the fence and watched the pigs eat. “I should be friendly, because after all, the guy is doing me a big-ass favor. But I need to set boundaries, just like you have these fences between you.”

  Having Drake sleep in the spare room would be no problem if they established some house rules. She couldn’t appear inhospitable, because after all, she’d invited him to stay. Perhaps she’d even begged him. Her memory wasn’t clear on that point because she’d been distraught at the time.

  But now that he’d agreed, they needed to establish a routine that would minimize...temptation. No, she couldn’t phrase it like that. The word temptation shouldn’t come up. They would strive to minimize...unanticipated encounters. That sounded stuffy. She’d have to find a better description, but that’s what she meant.

  For example, he should keep his shirt on at all times. If he was in the habit of wandering into the kitchen for a midnight snack, he couldn’t do that in his pajama bottoms. He had to put on... Uh-oh. He didn’t have pajama bottoms.

  She hadn’t thought this through. She’d pleaded with him to stay, but he hadn’t come prepared with extra clothes or toiletries. He certainly hadn’t come with pajamas, either tops or bottoms. Besides, he wouldn’t want to sleep in them, anyway, if he planned to check on Dottie periodically.

  She really hadn’t thought about how this would work. But now she could see it all playing out in living color. He’d sleep in his briefs, unless he chose to sleep naked. When he got up to check on the mare, he’d put on the basics—jeans, socks, boots. It was mid-July. Bothering with a shirt under the circumstances would be plain silly.

  Well, then, she’d stay in her room. That would solve the problem. No, it wouldn’t. She definitely wanted to be in on the action when Dottie gave birth. She couldn’t picture herself cowering in her room like some nervous virgin because Drake was shirtless while he delivered a foal. That would be stupid.

  “Still feeding the pigs?” The man in question walked toward her with a loose-hipped stride and a casual smile. He was sexy as hell.

  “I’m just finishing up.” He’d look amazing without his shirt. Tracy had no doubt about that. If only he could have a potbelly like the pigs, but then he wouldn’t have been able to seduce Regan’s fiancée, which was the crux of the problem.

  She had no idea how she’d handle the temptation of a bare-chested Drake, especially in the likely event that Dottie delivered her foal in the middle of the night. Tracy vaguely remembered discussions among the cowboys at Spirits and Spurs that mares often gave birth at night.

  “I didn’t realize you’d be so fast.” She pushed away from the fence as he moved past the five-foot mark and the tingle of awareness began traveling through her body.

  “Dottie’s colostrum production is still fairly minimal, which is good. The less she produces before giving birth, the better.”

  Three feet. Her skin began to warm. “I haven’t started on dinner.” She gestured toward the pigs. “I like to wait until they’re done so I can let them back into their communal area. They love being together, except I can’t allow it when they eat.”

  “Yeah, Lily explained that to me.” Drake stood next to her and peered down at the two pigs. “Harley seems a little skinnier, though, so I guess the new program is working.”

  “It’s working.” And her libido was working, too. Overtime, in fact. Her hormones were racing around like a championship Roller Derby team.

  He’d come here straight from hiking, something she remembered now. If the deodorant commercials were correct, his manly sweat should offend her. But something primitive was going on, because she longed to bury her nose in his shirt and take a big sniff of that heady scent. And then she’d...

  “Look at that pig eat!” Drake sounded amused. “He’s practically licking the bowl.”

  “Yeah. He’s insatiable.” Whoops. Not the best choice of words under the circumstances.

  Drake’s low chuckle held an undercurrent of awareness. “Hey, Harley, are you gonna let the lady talk about you like that?”

  “Well, he is.” As if she had no sense of self-preservation, she looked into Drake’s laughing eyes. Oh, Lord. She glanced away, but not quickly enough to mute the effect. Every secret, private place in her body responded. “I can let them loose now.” Her voice had a huskiness that she was very afraid he’d notice.

  “You’re sure that’s a good idea? Lily used to let them roam the property, but from what I hear, that didn’t work out well.”

  “I mean let them into their community area. They’ll still be fenced in.”

  “Oh, right. Yeah, that’s better.”

  As she walked over and opened the gates so they could both scurry into the communal pen, she told herself that she and Drake were having a conversation about the pigs. But if they had been, he should have been watching them. Instead his attention remained firmly on her, his gaze assessing.

  After she let the pigs into their shared enclosure, she faced him. “I desperately need you to stay here tonight, and maybe for the next several nights.”

  He remained watchful. “I know, and I’ve agreed to do that. It makes sense.”

  “But asking you to stay doesn’t mean that I—”

  “Of course not.” Pain was reflected ever so briefly in his expression. “I’ve been waiting for you to warn me off. Why would you get involved with a man you don’t like very much?” Bitterness laced his comment.

  In a flash of insight, she knew that he’d picked up on her unbidden reaction to him. Knowing she wanted him even though she didn’t approve of him was...insulting? Degrading? Maybe both. “Drake, I—”

  “No worries.” His jaw tightened. “I wouldn’t dream of causing you to do something you don’t want to do. Women tend to have a certain response to me. Always have, ever since I was a teenager. Mostly it’s fun for both parties, but in this case...”

  She’d hurt his feelings. There was no way around it. “I’m sorry.”

  “Just for the record, I don’t make a habit of moving in on another man’s territory.” He massaged the back of his neck and glanced away. “I’ve only done it once, and if I could take it back, I would.” Then he sighed and looked over at her. “I’ve never said that to anybody. It sounds like doing it once is no big deal when I know it is. I just wish... Damn it, I wish that one stupid mistake wasn’t the only thing you saw when you looked at me.”

  At that moment, it wasn’t the only thing she saw. She saw a man who, for whatever reason, had betrayed himself as well as his best friend. She believed him when he claimed never to have cheated before or since. But why had it happened at all? She thought the answer would be complicated, and unraveling complicated motivations was her passion.

  He gave her a crooked smile. “You have that look on your face again.”

  “What look?”

  “The same one you got back at the Spirits and Spurs when I said I must be a glutton for punishment. I told Regan about your reaction, and that’s when he mentioned your field of study.”

  “Huh.” She wasn’t sure which surprised her more—that he’d been paying such close attention to her expressions or that he and Regan had been discussing her that night and she’d had no idea. Apparently she’d been so wrapped up in being cool that she’d missed some things.

  “I figure, when you look like that, you’re fixin’ to psychoanalyze me.”

  “And you wouldn’t like that.”

  “Not much, mostly because you’ve already decided I’m a bad character. I don’t think your evaluation would be unbiased.”

  She flushed at that truth. “You’re right. It’s a failing of mine. Being judgmental is a no-no for a psychologist, and I am judgmental. I’ll have to give that up if I expect to be an effective therapist.”

  “Then why not start with me?”

  “I thought you didn’t want me to work with you.”

  “I don’t if you consider me lower than whale poop.”

  “I don’t consider you lower than whale poop.” That was hard to say without laughing. “Whale poop is at the bottom of the ocean. That’s as low as anybody can go, and I don’t consider you that bad.”

  “Okay, then where would you rank me? How about lower than a snake’s belly?”

  She couldn’t hold back a grin. “Stop it. You’re being ridiculous.”

  “No, I’m not. I’m trying to get a bead on just how bad your bad opinion of me is.”

  “No, you’re trying to charm me.”

  His expression was priceless, exactly like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Busted.” He gazed at her. “Was it working?”

  “You know it was. It’s what you do best. That’s why I’m so leery of you.”

  “Leery? You mean like afraid?”

  She thought about that. “Maybe.”

  “Why would you be afraid of me?” He spread his arms wide. “I’m completely harmless.” Then he sniffed and made a face. “However, I stink to high heaven. I could use a shower before we sit down to eat. I can’t stand myself, so I can only imagine what I’m puttin’ you through. If you want to be judgmental about that, I wouldn’t blame you a bit.”

  Smiling, she shook her head. “You just can’t help it, can you?”

  “Help what?”

  “Never mind. Let’s go back to the house so I can fix us some dinner and you can shower.” She started walking in that direction, but her thoughts remained with their conversation. If she understood him correctly, he was offering himself as a guinea pig, but only if she could stop judging him long enough to help him work through some issues.

  He fell into step beside her. “Obviously I didn’t bring any spare clothes.”

  “I thought of that.” She didn’t want him to know how long she’d obsessed about it. “How close are you to Regan’s size?”

  “Pretty close, if you’re willing to raid his underwear drawer and maybe snag me a shirt or two. The jeans will be okay for another day or so.”

  “I’ll see what I can find and leave them in your room.”

  “That would be great. While you’re at it, maybe if you nose around you’ll come up with a spare razor, and maybe even a new toothbrush and toothpaste. Regan typically has backup stuff like that. He likes being organized.”

  “I’ll look. Under the circumstances, I’m sure he wouldn’t care if I raid his bathroom supplies.”

  “If you’d rather not, I could make a quick run home. Maybe that would be better.”

  “No.” Just the thought of him leaving caused panic to well up again. Her sense of security depended on him being right here. “Please don’t.”

  “Okay, okay. I won’t leave until Dottie drops her foal.”

  “Thank you.” Her panic disappeared immediately. But now that they’d mentioned Dottie, she wanted to reassure herself that the mare was okay. “Let’s check on her before we go in.”

  He nodded and switched direction. “Okay, assuming you can stand being around me for another ten minutes. If you want to let me do it while you head for the house, I won’t be offended.”

  “I’ll come with you.” She adjusted her path, too. “It’s good practice for me.”

  “Practice?”

  “For learning to be less judgmental.”

  “Ah.” He laughed and glanced over at her. “How about it, Tracy? Any chance your practice could extend beyond putting up with my stench?”

  “Such as what?” She had a pretty good idea what he was talking about, but she wanted to be sure.

  “Would you be willing to practice accepting my considerable failings, too?”

  She met his gaze. “I guess it’s worth a shot.”

  “Good deal.” He flashed his superwattage smile.

  He might think he’d convinced her just now. In reality, he’d had her at whale poop.

  5

  DOTTIE HAD TEMPORARILY stopped leaking colostrum, so in short order Drake was back in the house and standing under a hot shower. He soaped up, grateful for the opportunity to get clean again. Tracy had found him a razor and a toothbrush. She’d even discovered an unused deodorant stick and a new tube of toothpaste that happened to be his brand. He’d replace all the items once this gig was over.

  God, he hoped he knew what he was doing by agreeing to let Tracy muck around in his psyche. But he’d learned that solitary self-exploration didn’t work for him, and he couldn’t hang out in the little cabin forever waiting for enlightenment to arrive. He wanted a plan, but so far nothing had occurred to him.

  As he’d predicted, his parents were royally pissed that he’d left in the middle of racing season. The guy who’d taken over his practice was quickly winning everyone’s confidence, which irritated his parents even more. They’d shoveled clients his way for years, and now some other vet was reaping the rewards.

  Drake didn’t care. He might continue to be a vet, but not in the world of thoroughbred racing. He hoped his temporary replacement would be interested in buying him out, which would probably be the last straw for his folks. Oh, well. He’d tried it their way and had ended up so confused and miserable that he’d thought boinking his best friend’s fiancée was a good idea.

  Talking it out with Tracy would be a relief, providing she could give up her tendency to judge him. She’d admitted that was a problem area for her, so their cooperative effort might turn out to be a very good thing. Ideally, they’d help each other.

  He hadn’t decided what to do about sex. They both wanted to have it, but that didn’t mean that they should. He’d pretty much promised Josie Chance that he wouldn’t, and in a town like Shoshone there was zero probability that it would stay a secret.

  For the moment he wouldn’t worry about it. As he toweled off, he caught the subtle aroma of lentil soup warming on the stove. She must have put the corn bread in the oven as well, because he could smell that, too.

  For the first time in months, he felt relaxed and almost peaceful. Tracy knew the worst about him, and yet she was fixing him supper. Better yet, she needed him around because of Dottie. Remembering her panic whenever she thought he might leave made him feel a little bit like her knight in shining armor. His armor might be tarnished, but she’d agreed to look past that for the time being.

  By the time he walked into the kitchen wearing some of Regan’s clothes but his own jeans and boots, she was in the dining room setting the table. She glanced up and smiled. “Dinner’s almost ready, but I was wondering if you’d—”

  “Take another look at Dottie?”

  “Yeah. Am I being obsessive?”

  “Nope.” Even if he thought so, he wouldn’t have said it. She’d taken on the responsibility of this pregnant mare, and she wouldn’t rest easy until the foal had been born and both mother and baby were fine.

  He wouldn’t totally relax until that moment, either. Although he’d been through a lot of deliveries in his Virginia practice, most involving very valuable foals, this one loomed larger than all the others. He wanted to be Tracy’s hero.

  Walking outside, he took a deep breath of the warm evening air. The sun had disappeared moments ago, leaving an apricot glow behind. Enough light remained to make out the barn, which was pink with turquoise trim, and the house, painted neon green with orange trim. The orange almost matched the horizon.

  Drake remembered his initial impression of this place, the day he and Regan had talked for the first time since the Christmas Eve incident. Regan had cautioned Drake not to make fun of the paint job. Lily was a free spirit who believed in shaking things up. Since that day, Drake had spent enough time here to grow used to the unusual colors, but newcomers always gawked and some of the old-timers muttered about the neighborhood going to hippie hell.

  Drake had loyally defended Lily’s paint choices to anyone who had criticized them in his presence. Considering his poor reputation around town, he’d wondered lately if maybe his defense had hurt more than helped her cause. So he’d become less vocal about it.