The Vet's Unconditional Love - MacFarland Ranch Book 12 (ebook)

Prologue

A few months ago

Harper smiled at Tanya, who was watching her with wide eyes as she cooked. "It smells so good."

"It is so good. I can't wait for you to taste it."

Tanya eyed the focaccia longingly. "The bread smells so good too. Are you sure we have to dip it in oil? Can't I just butter mine?"

Harper laughed. "I'll tell you what — once we're all set up, you can butter it. On one condition."

"What's that?"

"You have to try two dips of olive oil first. If you don't like it, then you can go ahead and butter yours instead. But you have to at least try it first."

Tanya still looked uncertain, but she nodded, willing as usual to give most anything a try.

They both turned when Alana appeared in the doorway. "Oh wow, Harper; it smells amazing in here. It's like walking into some fancy restaurant instead of Dad's kitchen."

"It's nothing fancy," Harper assured her. "When it comes down to it, all we're really eating is chicken and cornmeal."

Tanya's eyebrows drew together. "I thought you said we were having something fancy. Piccata, and… what was it?"

"Polenta," Harper told her with a smile. "Piccata and polenta. But the piccata is just chicken in a buttery sauce with asparagus and capers. And polenta's nothing more than cornmeal really."

Tanya peered into the pan. "Whatever it's made out of, it smells really good. I can't wait to try it."

Alana nodded her agreement. "What can I do to help?"

"I already set the table," said Tanya.

"I can see that. But what else do we need?"

"Not a thing," said Harper. "I know you girls are so good about getting things done around the house, but tonight's on me. I want you both to sit back and enjoy it. Okay?"

"I wish you could come every night; I like it when you're here. And not just because of the food," Tanya added hurriedly.

Alana didn't say anything, but she seemed deep in thought, and Harper hoped she wasn't reading too much into any of this. The last thing she wanted was for Alana to feel that she was trying to fill her mom's place.

"I'm sure you'd be sick of me and my cooking if I were around all the time. New and interesting is always good." Harper shrugged happily. "And I'm enjoying being that for a while."

She let the girls fix their own drinks and then asked them to sit at the table while she served their food. She couldn't help laughing at the look on Tanya's face as she gingerly dipped her focaccia into the olive oil. Alana proceeded with more confidence, though Harper had a feeling she felt exactly the same way as Tanya — she just didn't want to show it.

"Go on, try it," she told them. "Even if you hate it, it won't kill you."

Alana took a tiny nibble while Tanya took a huge bite.

"Hey, it's not bad," said Alana.

Tanya’s eyes widened, and she nodded as she chewed, making an appreciative noise until she could speak. "Oh my gosh, Harper, this is so good." This time she dunked her bread into the oil with considerably more enthusiasm.

Alana rolled her eyes. "You're not supposed to do it like that."

Harper turned away, not wanting to interfere between the two of them, and busied herself making sure she'd left everything set up so that Emmett could warm himself a plate whenever he got home.

"Aren't you going to eat?" Alana asked when she went back to join them at the table.

"I'll eat when I get home." The piccata smelled so delicious that she was hoping they wouldn't hear her stomach rumble, but sitting down to eat with them seemed like a step too far. She didn't want to get to feeling too much at home here — for their sake and for hers. She was helping out and hanging out; that was all. "This is for you guys, and there'll be plenty of leftovers if you want more."

"I do," said Tanya.

"You haven't even finished what you have yet," said Alana.

"I know, but it's so good. Dad's going to love this."

"Do you think so?" Harper asked.

"I know so," said Alana. "He loves chicken, and I think he'll like the polenta too."

Tanya pushed at a caper with her fork. "I was going to leave these little things, but I got one by accident and it's tasty. I think Dad will love them too."

"I'm glad you tried them," Harper told her. "They're what gives the piccata that something extra, don't you think?"

It was good to sit with them while they ate, even though it made her heart ache a little. Being around them always did. She couldn't help wondering what her own life might have been like if things had turned out differently.

She pushed to her feet when she heard the front door open, and Emmett called out, "Hey, I'm home."

"Hey, Dad, we're in the kitchen," Alana called. "Harper made dinner. You need to come try it. It's amazing."

Harper heard his footsteps in the hallway and reached for her purse. As much as she enjoyed being around him, she did her best to leave before he got back. Tonight, she'd cut it too fine.

When he appeared in the doorway, her heart skittered in her chest the way it always did when she saw him. It still caught her off guard every time. Sure, he was a good-looking man — broad-shouldered, his hair mostly silver now, with that rugged look about him that she wouldn't have given a second glance back in New York. It was only since she'd moved here to Montana and met ruggedness in the flesh that she'd discovered just how much it did for her. And in Emmett's case, rugged meant sexy. She might never say that out loud — except maybe to Shelley — but she wouldn't deny it either.

He gave her a nod as he came in. He looked exhausted — not just tired, but the kind of worn out that came from too many long days stacked on top of each other with no let-up. She felt a pang of something she had no business feeling.

"Since you're home early, you could eat with the girls. I'll make you up a plate, if you like."

"Yeah, Dad, you need to try it," Tanya chimed in, already pushing her chair back. "Come sit down. And you have to have the bread, too." She stared guiltily at the last piece on the plate. "I nearly ate it all, but I think there's more."

"Sit down and finish your dinner," Emmett told her.

The table went quiet. Tanya dropped her head, and something tightened in Harper's chest at the sight of it.

"That's kind of you, Harper." He turned to her, his voice carefully even. "I appreciate you making dinner like this. But you've already done too much. I can get mine."

She turned away for a moment, closed her eyes, pressed her lips together. Then she turned back and did what she always did — wrapped what she actually wanted to say in a grin and said it anyway.

"Papa Bear's home now, ladies." She grinned at the girls, even though it cost her a little. "He can take care of everything by himself. I'll be on my way — I'll see you after school on Thursday."

The girls sensed the tension and just nodded. Neither of them reached for their forks.

Emmett scowled, and she felt her own temper rise to meet his.

"What? There's no need to get mad at me. I offered to make you a plate because in my world, that's what you do when someone comes home from work tired." She glanced at the girls — at Tanya still looking at her lap — and felt the words coming before she could stop them. "I forgot that in your world, your ability to handle everything alone is more important to you than—" Another glance "—anything or anyone else."

She walked out, furious at herself. That was always her problem. She knew when to stop. She just never did.

She knew he was following but didn't turn around until she reached the front door. When she had her hand on it, she faced him and made herself hold his gaze.
"You can't be mad at me; everything I said was true."

His eyebrows drew together, two deep lines forming between them. He looked furious — and then something shifted in his expression, something she couldn't quite read, and it stopped her cold. Because it hit her all at once what she'd actually done. He owned his self-reliance, always had — his friends knew it, he knew it, and he'd never pretended otherwise. But he considered himself and the girls to be a unit. A team. And with what she'd just said — with that glance at Tanya sitting with her head down — she hadn't just called him out. She'd drawn a line between them, put herself and the girls on one side of it and left him standing alone on the other.

He opened his mouth.

"Anyway, I really have to go." She kept her voice light. "I'll drop the girls off on Thursday. See you then."

She was out the door before he could find words, pulling it shut behind her and crossing to her truck without looking back. Her hands weren't quite steady as she started the engine.

She didn't pull away until she was sure he wasn't hot on her heels, determined to give her a piece of his mind.

She wouldn't blame him.

Perhaps she'd do better to give him a wide berth for a while. She was an expert in being simultaneously useful and invisible, after all;

Chapter One

Harper stared out the window of the plane, taking in the snow-capped mountains below. The vastness of the landscape and the never-ending clear blue sky made her feel as though she was already back in Montana. They couldn't be there yet — there was still an hour and a half to go — and once she arrived, she'd be under the big sky rather than zipping through it like this. She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes.
Her trip back to New York had been brief but useful. Her friends had been glad to see her; she'd been glad to see them. When she'd left the city all those months ago, she'd thought she was only going to Montana for a few weeks — a month at most — to visit Shelley. But with the way things had worked out, she'd decided to stay.
She was grateful to her friends for keeping an eye on her apartment, and she was going to have to make some decisions about it at some point. She could keep it, if she wanted to, but it didn't make much sense if Montana was going to be home.
She sighed. She thought she wanted to make it home. But she didn't have to decide right now.
Her New York friends thought she was crazy to even consider it. Of course they were biased — they wanted her back. And there were parts of her life in the city that she did miss. She'd been to the symphony in Bozeman, and it was good. Good for a small city out west, as her friends had pointedly reminded her after their evening at Carnegie Hall last week.
They didn't understand. She wouldn't have understood herself if she hadn't spent the last few months in Montana — hadn't experienced life out there. Of course, it was a whole different world from what she was used to. A different culture, different values, a pace that was glacial compared to New York. But the people — the people were something else. Hardworking, honest, straight-shooting, decent. Not that there weren't plenty of those in New York, but it was almost like comparing two different planets.
She adored her city friends. But her very best friend in the world was now in Montana, and the two of them hadn't lived in the same place for far too many years. And she'd made other friends there too. Jim Sheridan, who'd rented her his cottage. The whole MacFarland clan. Shelley's new friends, mostly women like them, who’d moved out there for one reason or another. Shelley’s man, Trip, and his group of friends — most of them former Navy SEALs who'd grown up together in Paradise Valley, gone off to serve, and come home again. Good men. Not men she could imagine fitting into her life in the city.
She turned to stare out the window again.
And then there was Emmett.
Emmett was one of that group of former SEALs but he was so much more than that. He was a widower. He was a single dad to Tanya and Alana — thirteen and fifteen — who he’d raised by himself since their mom passed.
The rest of that group of men were good-looking, no question, and rugged with it. But Emmett was something else. Competent, capable, a good father who'd put his girls and their needs ahead of everything else since the day he lost Emily.
She made a face. He was damn good at it; he just shut the rest of the world out while he did it.
She hadn't known that when she first started helping out with the girls — driving them to rehearsals, picking them up from school, filling in wherever they needed her. She'd done what she always did: spotted a problem that needed solving and got on with it. And things had been going well. Until the night she'd opened her mouth and said too much.
As she so often did.
She probably would have gotten away with calling him out on his self-reliance — he knew it himself, owned it even. But she hadn't been able to stop there. She'd gone further and implied — or maybe come right out and said, she wasn't entirely sure which — that in shutting the world out, he was shutting the girls out, too.
She couldn't remember exactly what she'd said to him, but she'd never forget the look on his face when she left. He'd been furious at first, and that was fine. Well, maybe not fine, but — she could understand it, and she could deal with it.
But she'd done something worse than make him angry. She'd made it sound as though she was on the girls' side and he wasn't. And as far as she was concerned, that was unforgivable.
It was the way she'd said it — the way she'd turned to the girls, made it an us, made him the outsider in his own kitchen. In his own family. She hadn't meant to do that. She'd just been angry and the words had come out the way they always did, faster than her better judgment. But the result was the same whether she'd meant it or not. She'd stood in his home and implied that she and his daughters were a team — and that he wasn't on it.
The girls were his world.
She hadn't apologized since — not because she didn't want to, but because she knew that bringing it up would mean wading back through what she'd said and what she'd meant. And that would be like poking the bear. She let out a short laugh at that. She and the girls had taken to calling him Papa Bear — she'd christened him with it, and Tanya and Alana had gleefully adopted it. The irony wasn't lost on her.
She could handle him being angry at her. What she didn't want was to make him face what she'd implied. The last thing she wanted was to hurt the man.
So she'd managed to keep hanging out with the girls, taking care of logistics whenever she was needed. Shelley and Trip and the others were all taking turns picking Alana up from her theater rehearsals, too — it wasn't as though she was the only one showing up for them. But for all the time she spent with the girls, she'd still managed to avoid spending even a moment alone with Emmett since that night.
Which was unfortunate, really. Because in many respects, there was nothing she'd rather do.
She took her phone out of her purse. She’d deal with the Emmett situation when she had to – and not a moment before. In the meantime, the rest of her life in Paradise Valley was something she was looking forward to getting back to.
She opened her phone and smiled as she scrolled through her texts. She hadn't messaged with Shelley since yesterday morning, but her friend had promised she'd be there waiting when Harper landed. Harper was looking forward to seeing her.
The two of them had met and become close friends in college, and their friendship had stayed solid ever since. Harper had based herself in New York, working as an editor for one of the big publishing houses, while Shelley had gone on to law school and worked for a firm out of Pittsburgh. They'd seen each other through marriages, divorces, and worse, and the distance had never made any difference.
At least, Harper hadn't thought so. But having lived so close to Shelley these last few months — having been part of each other's everyday lives — she now understood that there was an added closeness that came with that. She loved it. And as much as she loved New York, she didn't want to give this up.
She smiled as she re-read a message from Jim Sheridan.
Jim: Looking forward to having you home. It's been quiet around here without you. Banner and his brothers will be here for a cookout Sunday afternoon. Hope you'll join us.
Harper: Of course. I'll be there.
She still hadn't decided whether she should try and put together a bunch of side dishes that would pair well with whatever massive hunks of meat Banner and his brothers would no doubt throw on the grill, or whether she should just admit defeat on that front and focus on baking dessert instead.
She’d brought back gifts for Jim and Banner too, but she’d have to choose her moment to give those – and it wouldn’t be at the cookout.
Next up was the group text with the women — Shelley's friends, the wives and girlfriends of Trip's buddies. Warm contentment settled over her when she acknowledged to herself that they weren't just Shelley's friends anymore; they were her friends, too.
She was looking forward to getting together with them all on Thursday evening.
Ari: Hey ladies, it's time for a night out. Can anyone — or everyone — do Thursday? I was thinking dinner at the Valley Lodge.
Candy: You should probably count me out on Thursday. I'll have to be at the bakery even earlier than usual on Friday morning. You know what my Fridays are like.
Ari: I knew you'd say that, so I already talked to Spider and Rocket. You have next Friday off.
Libby: You can't argue with that, Candy — and even if you wanted to, you wouldn't win an argument with Ari. She's a lawyer.
Retta: I'm free on Thursday. I'd love to go.
Ari: You don't mind, do you, Candy? I didn't think you would.
Candy: I don't mind, no. And since the boys will probably bring Bree in to do most of the baking, I doubt the customers will mind either. She could probably take over from me — she's good.
Shelley: She's good, but she's not that good.
Libby: Shelley's right. Bree can assist you, Candy, but there'd be a revolt in the valley if you said you weren't baking anymore.
Ari: Awesome, Retta. And what about you, Libby? You haven't answered yet.
Libby: I should be good, but I'll let you know.
Shelley: I'll be there. I'll touch base with Harper — but I'm guessing she will, too. She'll be back from New York by then.
Retta: Is she having a good time?
Harper: Having a great time, thanks — but I'm looking forward to being back. If I don't see you before, I'll see you all Thursday night.
Shelley: Do you want us to pick you up and give you a ride home afterward, Libby?
Libby: I'll figure something out. Thanks.
Harper wasn't surprised the conversation had gone quiet after that. She might be a newcomer to the valley, but even she knew the history between Libby and her ex, Mav. The two of them had been together since high school and married pretty much ever since — though the last few years had been on again, off again, and they were now divorced.
It was something of a tradition that whenever the women went out together, the guys hung out at Deacon's place and then came to pick them up afterward. Since Libby was on her own, Trip and Shelley usually tried to take her home as they lived closest to Libby’s place in town — but she often preferred to make her own way. Sometimes she'd get a ride from a friend or a neighbor, which really shouldn't have been an issue.
But it seemed that Mav hadn't quite let go and didn't love the idea of her getting rides home from other men.
It all seemed a little strange to Harper. She didn't know Mav, even though he'd moved back to the valley recently, but she thought the world of Libby — so if there was any taking of sides to be done, Harper knew exactly which side she'd come down on.
Her hand came up to cover her heart when she scrolled to the next text string.
Tanya: When you come home, can I take you to the bakery for coffee one day? I miss you, Harper.
She swallowed. At least she didn't have to dab at her eyes the way she had the first time she saw that message come in. Tanya was such a little sweetheart. Alana was too, but Tanya still had that innocence about her. If she cared to admit it — which she didn't — Harper would have to confess that she loved them both. But that was an irrelevant factor, so she did her best to ignore it.
She smiled as she read the rest of their exchange.
Harper: I miss you too, sweetie. As soon as we figure out the schedule again, we'll make sure to stop at the bakery on the way home one day. And you don't need to buy me anything — it'll be my treat. Soda or milkshake for you, no coffee. Okay?
Tanya: I'm good with milkshake, but you like coffee, and I saved some of my allowance so I can buy you one.
Harper: We’ll negotiate when I get there. How about that?
Tanya: Okay, but I want to do it. You do so much for us. I want to do something for you.
Tanya: You and Dad don't talk to each other anymore, do you?
Harper had felt terrible the first time she read that. She hoped her reply had been enough to put Tanya's mind at ease.
Harper: We don't need to right now — you know how busy with work he is. Libby took over managing the schedule for you guys, and I've been talking to her.
Tanya: Yeah, but that's just everyone taking turns to pick Alana up from rehearsals one night a week. You do most of everything else when you're here. I miss you.
Harper: I miss you too, sweetie. I'll be back this weekend.
Tanya: Can't wait! But I don’t know when we’ll see you — we're going for a sleepover at Brooke's this weekend.
Harper pursed her lips as she re-read that last line. She'd wanted to ask why they were sleeping over at Brooke's. Brooke was a great girl. Well, she was more than a girl; she was probably in her late twenties or early thirties. She'd helped Emmett out with the girls for years when they were smaller. But she'd recently taken on a full-time job and hadn't been available as much these last few months. As far as Harper knew, the girls hadn't stayed the night at her place before. At least not since Harper had moved to the valley.
She was desperate to know what was going on. Was Emmett away for the weekend?
Even now, re-reading the exchange a couple of days later, her heart rate picked up at the possibility that maybe Emmett had a date. She drummed her fingers on the magazine on her lap. It shouldn't make any difference to her if he did. It didn't make any difference.
Yes, she was attracted to him. But she already knew that she rubbed him the wrong way — and that was even before she'd made a mess of things in his kitchen that night. He'd seemed wary of her from the start. He certainly hadn't behaved as though the attraction were mutual.
She should hope for his sake that he did have a date.
A heavy feeling settled in her chest, and she told herself firmly that if it was disappointment, it was only because a new woman in Emmett's life would probably mean she got to spend less time with the girls. That was all. Nothing more than that.
And she shouldn't even be disappointed about that. Those girls needed a mother figure in their lives — and as much as she might like to fill that role, it wasn't her place. More than that, of the many things she might have been in life, a mother wasn't one of them.
She shoved her phone back into her purse.
Maybe she should see if anyone was heading out to Chico this weekend. She could always go by herself if it came down to it, but suddenly she wanted a night out. Maybe even a date. There was no reason she shouldn't.
She stared back out the window, trying very hard to convince herself that it had absolutely nothing to do with the thought of Emmett going on one of his own.
When the pilot announced their descent into Bozeman, Harper leaned back and closed her eyes. She was almost there.
Shelley had said she'd be waiting by the big fireplace at the bottom of the escalator — Bozeman felt more like a welcoming ski lodge than an airport. Harper was already looking forward to seeing her. She'd only been gone a couple of weeks, but there was nothing quite like landing somewhere and knowing your bestie was there with a hug waiting on the other side of the doors. They'd grab coffee before they headed back to the valley and Shelley would fill her in on everything she'd missed.
Well, almost everything. Shelley had proven to be a completely useless source of information on Emmett.
But that was probably for the best. Harper had managed to avoid running into him all this time — she didn't need to hear about him either. In fact, she should just pretend the man didn't exist. Treat him like a background character in her life. Tanya and Alana's dad. Some guy she knew a little but had no real dealings with.
She could do that.
~ ~ ~
Emmett locked the cabinet and slipped the key into his pocket before checking the clock on the wall. He was going to have to get a move on if he wanted to be on time.
He tested his desk drawer to make sure it was locked, too – the same desk he'd had since he first set up the practice, back when the girls were small enough to nap on the couch in the corner. He stood there for a moment, hand resting on the drawer handle, wondering why he was even going — let alone why he was worried about being on time.
He spun around guiltily when Janey spoke from the doorway.
"Hey, Emmett, can you just—" She stopped. "Oh, wait, are you leaving already?"
He cleared his throat. "Yeah. I need to get out of here today. I—"
Janey stepped into his office with a puzzled smile. "I think you should stay here and work."
His heart started to pound. Did she know where he was going? Did she think it was a bad idea? He relaxed a little when she laughed and added, "I know the girls are away this weekend — which means you're going to head home and do all the spring cleaning you can while they're not under your feet. Right?"
He stared at her.
That was exactly what he should do and he knew it. But he wasn't going to tell her what he had planned instead.
She raised her eyebrows. "Why do you look so guilty? I hope it's because you intend to go home and take a nap and not clean anything."
He smiled at that. "You know, that's not a bad idea."
"It's a wonderful idea, even if I do say so myself. But before you go — do you mind coming to look at something with me?"
"What is it?" he asked. He felt bad when she looked a little embarrassed.
"It's probably nothing, but I just want you to reassure me that it's not something."
"Where are we going?" he asked as he followed her outside.
"To check the window to my office."
"Why, what's wrong with it?" He'd had all new windows fitted on the clinic building a couple of years ago and was hoping the units weren't starting to fail already.
"There's nothing exactly wrong with it, but I was out here earlier walking one of the puppies who's in for observation and I noticed this." She reached up and pointed to where the window opened. "See that?"
Emmett stepped closer. He ran his fingers over a gouge in the frame.
"What do you think it is?" Janey asked.
"I don't know," he said after a moment. He didn't want to tell her what he really thought. He should have known better, though — Janey was nobody's fool.
"Do you think someone tried to break in?"
"Hopefully not," was the only honest answer he could give.
She blew out a sigh.
"The alarm system's all hooked up," he reassured her.
"I know. It just worries me — if someone does get in, all the animals who are here overnight are going to be terrified."
He smiled through pursed lips. "Are you just trying to persuade me again that we need a pair of Rottweilers living here?"
"Oh—" She grinned. "I'd forgotten about that idea. But you can't say it's a bad one, can you? I heard there was a break-in at Parker Johnson's place up by Great Falls last week. Apparently, they cleaned out his whole ketamine supply."
Emmett pursed his lips. Rural veterinarians had become a real target for the drug trade in the last couple of years.
"I think we're safe out here," he told her. "But if it worries you that much, maybe we should get those Rottweilers. Or German Shepherds — whoever's most territorial."
She laughed. "You shouldn't have said that. I'm going to spend my whole weekend checking the shelters."
"Don't spend your whole weekend doing it. And tell Rocket I apologize — but it's not really my fault."
"He'll be as excited as I am. He loves dogs." She waved a hand at him. "But you should get going. Whatever you're up to, make the most of having the weekend to yourself. No cleaning, no sorting. Napping only. Maybe a beer with the guys — you deserve it."
"Maybe," he said, turning toward his truck. "Have a good weekend."
He was still questioning the wisdom of what he was about to do. If he had any real choice, he'd probably back out. But it was too late now — he'd said he would do it, and he was going to see it through.
Hopefully he'd feel a little better once it was over with.
Although as he pulled out onto the highway, he was well aware that he might end up feeling a whole lot worse.