The Rancher and the Vet. Julie Benson

Then she could focus on what she loved, taking care of animals and educating owners. So much for that.

      “I know it’s been hard for you to understand that working for a nonprofit organization in a small community means everyone knows your professional business, but that’s a fact you need to adjust to,” Harper said, her tone bordering on condescending.

      Avery concentrated on her breathing, counted to ten and mentally listed Harper’s good qualities. She truly cared about animals. Her heart was in the right place. She possessed valuable business connections and used them to recruit new shelter supporters. A great ambassador and advocate, she donated generously.

      Her temper reined in, Avery said, “Our disagreements need to remain between us. You wouldn’t want me to discuss problems I had with your shop or your merchandise in front of customers. I expect the same professionalism from you.”

      Realization dawned in Harper’s eyes. “My mistake. I was upset about the news that we don’t own the land. However, I do believe Reed could be a valuable resource for us.”

      The last person Avery wanted invading her professional life was Reed. “While he knows the corporate world, he lacks experience in the nonprofit arena and with fund-raising, and that’s our biggest concern right now,” Avery said in hopes of channeling the conversation to the task at hand. “The first thing we need to do is move up the date of the Pet Walk. I spoke with the executors. If we take out a loan to buy the land, the papers must be signed by the deadline. Since the land price is three hundred thousand, that means we need sixty thousand dollars for the down payment.”

      Harper paled. “The most we’ve ever raised from the Pet Walk is thirty-five thousand, and that was in a better economic climate.”

      Avery refused to let the shock and worry in Harper’s voice rattle her further. They could do this. They had to. “Getting more and bigger sponsors is the key. I hope to tap some of my brothers’ contacts.”

      Avery’s oldest brother, Rory, modeled designer jeans for a large New York–based clothing company. Her brother Griffin was the host of the reality show The Next Rodeo Star. “If I can get Devlin Designs and Griffin’s network to write us big checks, that’ll go a long way to achieving our goal. However, the first thing we need to do is make sure that buying this land is our best option.”

      Harper tapped her manicured nail against the chair arm, something she did frequently as she thought. The habit grated on Avery’s tightly strung nerves. “No matter what we do, we’ll have to obtain a loan. To give us one, the bank will require proof we can afford the increase in our monthly operating costs.”

      Yesterday, Harper’s micromanaging had been Avery’s biggest problem. Now her shelter needed sixty thousand dollars to remain open, and the only man she’d ever loved was back. What she wouldn’t give for a time machine.

      * * *

      FRIDAY AFTERNOON, REED sat jotting down discussion points for Monday’s staff-status meeting as he waited for Jess in the school’s pickup lane. Thank goodness for wireless technology to make productive use of otherwise wasted time.

      The truck door flew open, Jess’s backpack flew behind the seat and then the door slammed shut. He rolled down the passenger window. “Where are you going?”

      “Out with friends.”

      “Get in. I’ll drop you off after we talk.”

      “They’re waiting for me.”

      “If I don’t get more details, you don’t go.” Reed almost winced as similar things his father had said rang in his ears. He inhaled deeply before he continued. “Text them that I’ll drop you off in a few minutes.”

      The door flew open again, and this time Jess crawled in, mumbling something about the Spanish Inquisition and teenagers having rights, too.

      As the line of cars inched forward and Jess texted away, he asked about the specifics of her plans.

      “We’re going to hang out. We might go to a movie.”

      “What movie? Who with? What time will it be over?”

      “I don’t even know if we’re going to a movie, so how can I know when it’ll be over? Dad doesn’t give me the third degree.”

      Reed wasn’t sure if he believed her, but whether he did or not didn’t matter. He was here, and Colt was in Afghanistan. Instead of saying that, he reiterated his stance that without enough details, she didn’t go.

      “We talked about going to the new Robert Pattinson movie, and before you ask, it’s PG. I’ll be home around eleven.”

      “Your dad said your curfew was ten-thirty.”

      “Whatever.”

      She was testing him and, he suspected, trying his patience on purpose. Did she really think her dad wouldn’t tell him about her curfew or that he wouldn’t remember? “How are you getting to the movie?”

      “Jeez, my teachers ask less questions on quizzes. We were going to walk downtown and shop first, then go to McCabe’s for pizza. If we go to a movie we’ll walk. Otherwise we’ll go back to Lindsey’s house.”

      As he pulled out of the school parking lot onto the street, Reed said, “Text me when you know whether you’re going to a movie or to a friend’s house. I need to know where you are so I can pick you up.”

      Jess rolled her eyes. “You want to fit me with a GPS?”

      “Don’t tempt me,” Reed said.

      * * *

      LATER THAT NIGHT, as Reed sat on the couch, a beer in his hand, watching the Colorado Rockies game, he thought over his first week. So far there hadn’t been any major fires to put out at work. Most of his clients understood his situation. The two customers he’d been scheduled to visit next week had agreed to conference calls instead.