to get up.
All he needed was to be knocked down by her dogs, compounding her sins against him. Still, Stryker and Sherry were well mannered. They were protection, a distraction against...against what?
“Come on, guys.” They followed her to the porch. Clint Morgan was standing when she reached the steps.
“I wish you wouldn’t stand,” she said. “I suspect Doc told you to stay off that foot.”
“Did you stay off your feet?” he asked. “You said it had happened to you several times.”
“No,” she admitted. “But I had patients to care for.”
A shadow crossed his face, then vanished so quickly she wondered whether she’d imagined it.
His gaze left her face and went to the dogs. Sherry pushed her way to him and held out her paw. He took it, then turned to Stryker. “Who is this?”
“Sherry’s brother, Stryker.”
Clint sat back in the swing and offered his hand to Stryker, who sniffed it suspiciously, then wagged his tail slowly.
“There’s coffee in the pot inside,” Clint said as Stryker moved back to her side.
“I can’t stay. I have patients.”
“Can you refill my cup, then? It’s not easy to carry...”
She would swear she saw a twinkle in his eye, but how could she say no? So much for running in with the laptop and leaving. Then she noticed it was still in her hands. “Where do you want this?”
“The table in the living room is near a plug, and I’m sure the batteries need charging.”
She opened the door, turned back when the dogs started to follow. “Stay,” she told the two dogs who promptly sat next to her nemesis.
“And would you put some bread in the toaster?”
Now she knew. Payback for the cow.
But she did as he asked. The sooner she did, the quicker she could leave. Cow or not, there was a limit. She hurried inside before he thought of another errand. She placed the laptop on the table, found an outlet and plugged it in. She strode into the kitchen. A major inroad had been made in the open loaf of bread. An open package of cheese lay next to it, along with two dirty dishes and two empty glasses.
She tucked two pieces of bread in a toaster and washed dishes while she waited for them to toast. The kitchen was well stocked with appliances. Josh had probably left behind all the stuff he’d bought for the cabin when he moved in with Eve. She wondered what Eve would think of the newcomer. Most likely, she wouldn’t share her own misgivings. Eve liked everyone, and everyone liked Eve.
The toast popped up. She buttered the two pieces, filled a cup with coffee and took both outside.
“Thank you,” he said. “While you’re here, could you also bring the jar of jam in the fridge?” This time he made no attempt to disguise his amusement.
She gritted her teeth and returned to the kitchen, found the jam. She grabbed a knife to go with it, and returned to the porch. He gave her a bland look as he scratched Stryker’s ears who, in turn, groaned in delight.
Traitor.
“I appreciate you bringing the dogs,” he said. “A friendly tail is welcome.”
She didn’t know whether it was a rebuke or whether she imagined it. “You’ve had dogs?” He seemed so natural with her two.
“Nope. Always wanted one, but I was never any place long enough.”
“Not even as a kid?”
The shadow returned to his face. “No,” he said without elaborating.
She hated that his answers were so...uninformative. That part of him was like Josh although the delivery was softer.
She was curious despite herself. “Are you from the west? I can’t place your accent.”
“No, but I did some survival training here. I like the mountains.”
He obviously wasn’t going to say anything more. “I have to go,” she said. “Four-legged patients.”
He nodded. “Thanks for bringing the laptop. And breakfast.”
Stephanie decided to leave before he wanted anything else. “Sherry, Stryker, come.” She opened the porch door.
Sherry glanced back at Clint as if reluctant to leave, then trotted toward the van. The dogs jumped inside and Stephanie drove off without looking back.
* * *
CLINT WATCHED THE VAN disappear between the tall pines that lined the dirt drive. The lake was just barely visible. To the left were the mountains. It was cool this morning, and the scent of pine freshened the air. It was, in a word, peaceful.
Stephanie had certainly spiced it. Something about her challenged him, and he hadn’t realized how badly he needed a challenge. He’d drifted since the morning he’d awakened from a coma and discovered he might never fly again. He hadn’t been willing to explore a future without it. He’d refused to make plans.
Dr. Payne had pried and prodded, suggesting he contact his father. The shrink knew from Clint’s record that Frank Morgan was alive. But he wasn’t alive to Clint and never would be. He hadn’t talked to him since he was eighteen. A far as he knew, his father had never tried to contact him, either.
He wanted nothing to do with him now.
But now it was time to stop feeling sorry for himself. What was done was done, and he needed to decide his next step. He’d had a plan before the accident: obtain a degree in computer engineering and eventually work in helicopter computer systems. He was damned good at operation and repair. Better than most of the chopper mechanics. Now he didn’t know whether he could work around choppers without flying.
Maybe he would switch to computer programming. In any event, the enrollment for online sessions at the University of Maryland was over. He would have to wait for the next quarter.
He hobbled back inside and opened his laptop to check emails. There were a number from pilots in his unit in Afghanistan. No losses, thank God, but some close calls. A woman had joined their unit as a pilot. She wasn’t the first, but it was still a novelty. The weather was fierce as usual, hot as hell during the day and freezing cold at night. They envied him.
The last was a lie, and he knew it. Most of his buddies, especially those without families, would prefer being in that godforsaken country to being back home. Like him, they would miss the adrenaline rushes that beat any other feeling, the exhilaration of a successful mission, the camaraderie between missions. He didn’t allow himself to think about the bad stuff.
He closed his email and plugged “Stephanie Phillips, Covenant Falls, veterinarian” into a search engine.
Not much. No website. No background information. Several newspaper articles, though, most of them involving search-and-rescue missions. One mentioned she was also a volunteer firefighter. He found a candid photo of an exhausted-looking Stephanie and Sherry apparently being thanked by a mother holding a child. Search-and-Rescue Team Find Five-Year-Old, the caption reported.
It was another side of his chauffeur from yesterday. An intriguing lady, indeed.
That was it for information. Someone really had to work at privacy not to have more.
He closed the computer. He was damned restless, but his foot precluded the long hike he would have liked. He went into the second bedroom, which contained a single bed and two bookcases filled with books. He rifled through them. An interesting mixture. Biographies. Novels. History. His host obviously had eclectic taste.
He found a suspense novel, moved slowly to the kitchen for a glass of water and took both to the porch.
He settled in the swing and opened