drilled her gaze into his, trying to force him to leave. This would be the first time she dismounted with her prosthetic leg. What if she stumbled, fell? She swallowed over and over. “Please.”
He strode to her and patted Cinnamon while he looked up at her. “It’s okay to need help.”
“I need to do this by myself, and I don’t want an audience.”
“Okay.” He pushed his hat off his forehead, revealing his smoky-gray eyes, soft with concern deep in their depths. “I’ll be in the barn. Howard is meeting me down here.”
“Thanks.” She waited until he’d disappeared inside before slipping her right foot out of the stirrup and planting it on the block, and then she swung her left leg over Cinnamon. The past half an hour had drained her energy, and her thigh muscles burned. She sank down onto the piece of wood, holding Cinnamon’s reins while she gathered her strength to finish taking care of her mare.
Kit led Cinnamon toward the barn to remove the saddle nearer where it was stored. She heard murmurs as she approached the back entrance.
“Give it a try. It might work,” Howard said to Nate as she entered.
“Try what?” Kathleen asked, stopping at the saddle rack.
Her brother shot Nate a look as though to say, You tell her.
Nate cleared his cough. “I have a gift for you.”
“I think I hear Beth calling.” Howard scurried to the exit, throwing a glance over his shoulder and adding, “Dinner is in an hour. See you both up at the house.”
Nate wanted to erase the worry in Kit’s eyes. “Your brother isn’t subtle. He wanted me to meet him down here, but when I asked him why, he didn’t have a reason.”
“I don’t think he knows the definition of subtle.” Kit continued her trek across the barn to the saddle rack. “What did you mean you have a gift for me?”
Realizing she might protest, Nate still hurried to help her with removing the saddle. When she allowed him to lift it off and onto the rack, surprise must have graced his features.
“I haven’t fully recovered from my accident. I’ve done too much today.”
He took the brush from the shelf nearby and ran it over Cinnamon’s coat, keeping a sharp eye out for any outwardly signs of colic. “She looks good. Howard told me she got into a bad batch of feed—that was what had her sick. He threw it out. Thankfully she was the only horse affected.”
“I’m glad she’s better. It felt good to be riding her again, but it was different. I’m used to using my legs some to control Cinnamon. I’m going to have to modify how I ride and work on building up certain muscles.”
“That won’t be hard for you. Cinnamon is a good horse and picks things up fast.”
“She’ll train better than I will.”
He slanted a look at her over Cinnamon’s rump and saw a grin tilt up the corners of Kit’s mouth. “You’ll do fine. I’ve seen you practice a dance move until you did it flawlessly.” Her smile faded when he mentioned the word dance. “You can’t forget what you did for so much of your life. Who’s to say you can’t do something else involving dance.”
She closed her eyes for a long moment, her chest expanding then collapsing before she regarded him again. “You never told me what the gift is that you have for me.”
He laughed. “You haven’t changed in that department. You always hated not knowing what I was giving you for your birthday or Christmas.”
“My birthday isn’t for a while, and Christmas is half a year away. I can’t wait that long.”
“You don’t have to. I’ll have the gift in a couple of days. That is, if you want it.”
She lounged against a post nearby while he finished with Cinnamon. “What is it?”
“A poodle named Lexie. She needs a home, and I know how much you loved Missy. She’s white and about the same size as Missy.”
Her face pale, Kit pushed away from the post. “I don’t know about that. I may not be here long.”
“That’s why I asked Howard if he’d keep Lexie if you left and didn’t want to take her with you. He said the kids would love to have another dog.”
“I know you’re a vet and come into contact with animals that need homes, but why pass her along to me? Why are you doing this?”
“You think I have an ulterior motive?”
“Do you?”
He began walking Cinnamon back to her stall. “Howard wants me to leave her here another night rather than putting her out in the paddock to make sure she’s still okay.”
Hands on her hips, she scrunched her mouth into a frown. “Nate Sterling, out with it. Why are you giving me a dog?”
After Cinnamon was safely in her stall, he faced Kit. He couldn’t keep from her where Lexie came from, but he’d wanted her to fall in love with the poodle before he told her. “I’m getting her from Caring Canines.”
“What’s that?”
“Abbey Winters, Dr. Harris’s daughter, and his assistant, Emma Tanner, run an organization to help match therapy and service dogs with people who need them.”
“I don’t need a service dog. I can do for myself.”
“I agree.”
Her eyes widened. “You think I need a therapy dog!”
“Do you?”
She opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out. Finally she limped toward the front barn doors.
“I never thought you were a chicken,” Nate called out from behind her. “I’ve seen you meet so many challenges head-on. What harm will it do to see if you and Lexie get along? She may be able to help you.”
At the entrance, she spun around on her right leg. She wobbled but caught her balance. “How?”
“Comfort you when you need it. Listen to you. You know how attuned animals are to us. You may not want my help, but take Lexie’s.” He couched his tone and words into a dare, knowing in the past she couldn’t refuse one. “I’ve talked to many pet owners and so many times they praise how much joy their pets bring to them.”
“Okay. I’ll try it on one condition. I don’t want you to look at me and only see my injury. That’s all I got from my dance buddies in New York. Tonight I plan on telling Carrie and Jacob about my leg. I’ll have enough to deal with them.”
“What makes you think I look at you like that?”
“Because you went to the trouble of getting Lexie for me. I’m not broken. I just need time.”
A surge of aggravation flashed through him. He clamped his lips together, trying to choose his words carefully. “I never said you were broken. You did. I’ve never looked at you like that. An injury isn’t what defines a person. How you handle it does.”
She glared at him, then turned toward the exit. “Tell my brother I’ll be up to the house after dinner to talk with his children. I’m suddenly not hungry.”
He wasn’t going to let her run away. He moved quickly and planted himself in her path. “No, you tell your brother that. I’m not your messenger.”
“You’re not my friend, either. A friend wouldn’t push me like you are.”
“I hope I have friends who will push me when I need it,” he