Taken by Love (Love in Bloom: The Bradens #7) Read online

  “Okay, okay. I get it. Sit down and chill.” Emily was fourteen months older than Luke, and at the moment she was giving him the same narrow-eyed, knitted-brow stare he’d seen too many times growing up. “Maybe you should skip the coffee this morning.”

  “Ha-ha.” She flagged down Margie and ordered coffee. Black. Emily had always been feisty, and Luke supposed she’d had to be, growing up with five brothers. “So, are we just modifying the bed and bath in the apartment above the barn, or did you decide to move the kitchen to the other side of the apartment as well?”

  He knew moving the plumbing and the framing was going to be a pain in the ass for Emily and her staff. He’d never ask another builder to move the plumbing; he’d have left it as it was originally designed. But just as Emily had no issue calling him at three a.m. to discuss a dream she’d had or to show up unannounced with a bottle of wine when she needed to vent with someone she trusted, he knew she probably had expected his changes and was relieved he’d made them before the walls were erected.

  She ran her eyes down his arm. “Hey, what happened?”

  Margie brought Emily her coffee as Wes walked into the diner. “And then there were three.”

  “Hey, Margie.” Wes slid into the booth beside Emily. Each of the Bradens were blessed with thick, dark hair, though Emily’s was straight and shiny, Luke’s was coarse and wavy, and Wes’s was a shade lighter and he kept it cropped much shorter than his brothers’. His cargo shorts and tank top were streaked with dirt, as was his forehead.

  “Hey, sugar. I’ll bring your usual over in just a sec.” With her hand on her hip, she looked Wes over and shook her head. “Were you out on the trails already today?”

  Wes raised his hand. “Guilty as charged. Checking out new trails. Tough life, but someone has to do it.” Wes ran a dude ranch and spent his days teaching well-paying clients how to rope and run cattle, ride horses, skeet shoot, and fish and many evenings taking them on overnight pioneering adventures. Wes eyed Luke and Emily, then the pile of drawings on the table. “Did I miss anything?”

  “What are you doing here?” Luke had recently helped Wes on a pioneering trip with a group of clients. He’d wound up going head-to-head with one of them and was arrested for assault. Even though the charges against Luke had been dropped, Luke was still dealing with what it said about him. He’d been thinking of nothing but ever since.

  “Em said she was meeting you for breakfast.” Wes shrugged. “I was hungry.”

  “I was just asking Luke what happened to his arm.” Emily arched a finely manicured brow.

  Luke shrugged. “It’s nothing. I cut it on a fence, but I did just run into Daisy Honey, who cleaned it up for me. You guys remember her?” He thought of the way she’d ripped the tape from his arm and her snarky comment. She was feisty, and he liked it.

  “Isn’t she the girl who had that horrible rep about sleeping around in high school?” Emily drank her coffee and opened one of her folders. “God, I felt so bad for her.” Trusty was like any other small town, where gossip spread faster than weeds.

  “Hot little blond number?” Wes asked.

  “Not anymore. I mean, hot, yes, but she dyed her hair darker. I guess she got tired of dealing with all the crap, and just for the record, I don’t think those rumors were true.” Luke could relate to dealing with crap, and a memory was snaking its way into his mind. He couldn’t quite grasp it, but he had the distinct feeling that it had something to do with Daisy.

  “I see that look in your eye, Luke. Careful. You’re the last thing a woman dodging a prickly past needs.” Wes held his gaze a beat too long. One of his key employees, Ray Mulligan, had quit a few weeks earlier, leaving Wes and his business partner, Chip, to lead every group that came to the ranch. Wes had been snappy and short-tempered ever since.

  Luke was all too aware of his own reputation, and the arrest didn’t help much. He wasn’t big on lasting relationships. Or rather, he didn’t connect well on deeper levels with people. Give him a horse and he could practically tell what they were thinking, but people? Women? Whole different ball game. It was only recently that he’d begun to wonder why that was.

  “Dude, what’s that supposed to mean?” Luke held his brother’s gaze. Having been raised by their mother after their father, Buddy Walsh, took off with a dime-store clerk from another town while their mother was still pregnant with Luke, all of his siblings were protective of one another. Luke was the same, and usually their fierce family loyalty served them well, but at times like this, the last thing he needed was to be judged by Wes.

  “She’s had enough of a bad rep. She doesn’t need yours following her around.”

  “Shit, Wes. You know damn well that arrest wasn’t my fault. You saw what went down.” The muscles in his jaw twitched.

  “I wasn’t talking about the arrest.”

  Emily slid a folder across the table to Luke; then she unfurled a set of architectural drawings, her eyes darting between them. “Can we not play Neanderthal today? Please? I have client meetings to attend to.”

  Margie brought Luke and Wes their breakfasts, and Emily slid the drawings to the side. “There you are, boys. Em? You want anything else?”

  “No, thanks, Margie. I’m good.” Emily watched Luke skim the file. “Want me to explain it?”

  Luke set the file down. “Nope. I just want you to do it. I don’t need to decipher the details. I want the bathroom and bedroom attached. It was shortsighted of me not to do that in the first place. I just didn’t like the idea of there not being a guest bath.”

  Wes shook his head.

  “What?” He knew damn well what Wes was thinking. His brother was a planner. He mulled over every detail of his life, which was a good thing in his profession, and he thought Luke was impetuous, that he didn’t think things through. The truth was, Luke was a pantser—hard and fast. He ran from planning too far ahead or in too much detail like a rebellious teenager. Most of the time, his gut instincts were right, but sometimes, where they might have been right at the time, after he thought things through, he realized that the next idea he had was better.

  In Luke’s eyes, those changes would have come after his decision was made even if he’d planned things out first, like Wes did. That thought process was so far from Wes’s that they often butted heads.

  “Don’t you want to go over the specifications?” Wes asked.

  “Hell no. What I want is to get home and check on my new foal. I trust Emily’s judgment, and she knows my budget. She’s banging out a few walls, moving some plumbing around.”

  “Hey. Nice to know you value my job so much, you ass.” Emily took a piece of toast from his plate and bit it, then smirked at him. “It’s a one-bedroom apartment for a ranch hand. Why on earth would it need a guest bath? If you’d only listened…”

  “Sorry, Em. You know I value what you do, and yeah, maybe I should have listened.” Luke shoveled his food into his mouth and lifted his chin in Wes’s direction. “Don’t you have a playdate?”

  “Yeah,” Wes said with a sly grin. “With a petite little brunette and a set of books.”

  “Clarissa?” Emily pointed at Wes. “I knew you two would hook up.”

  “She’s my bookkeeper, not my girlfriend, and we’ve never hooked up.” He put his arm around Emily with a sigh. “If you put as much energy into your own love life as you do mine, maybe you wouldn’t be alone.”

  “I’m not alone. I’m dating.” She scrunched her nose. “Sort of. I think. Ugh. Do you have any idea how hard it is to date in this town?”

  Luke and Wes both laughed, deep, loud, knowing laughs.

  “Right. I guess you do, but it’s easier for guys. You guys have dated half the women in Trusty and it just makes the women you haven’t dated want you more. It’s not like that for girls.”

  “It sure as hell better not be,” Luke said. He might be her younger brother, but he’d learned from the best four older brothers a guy could have how to protect his sister. Part of protecting
her meant making sure she didn’t put herself in a position to become the talk of the town. That was better suited for the men in the Braden family—or at least it had been. Luke had changed. He’d always been restless, and that included being unable to settle down with just one woman, but since buying the ranch two years ago, that restless itch had calmed, and he’d become far more focused. He liked working with his hands, being around animals, and not being told what to do. The ranch was a perfect fit, and he was finally ready to make changes in his personal life, too. He wanted to be with one woman, a woman who would understand him, love him for who he was—his inability to plan and all. Someone who valued family, loved animals, and wasn’t looking for something more than he could give. But that took opening himself in ways he didn’t even understand, and he had no clue how to go about any of it.

  Wes finished his food and locked his eyes on Luke. “I’ve got to run. Bro, just tread carefully with Daisy, that’s all. You know what she’s been through.”

  Twenty minutes later, Luke climbed onto his Harley and headed back toward his ranch, thinking about Daisy and what she’d gone through in high school. Maybe they weren’t so different after all.

  Chapter Two

  DAISY HAD JUST finished extracting an enormous splinter from a child’s foot when she was pulled into the next examination room to check a two-year-old for an ear infection. Trusty had been without a doctor since Dr. Waxman retired two years earlier and migrated south to enjoy warmer weather. He had been the town physician for more than forty years, and no one had stepped up to the plate to replace him and care for Trusty’s stuffy noses and splinters. Like Daisy, most modern doctors preferred to work in a busy metropolis, in the thick of diverse illnesses and cutting-edge research. She’d get there. Eventually.

  In the next exam room she found Janice Treelong—one of the girls who had spread awful rumors about her in high school—holding her son, Michael. Daisy gripped the doorknob so tightly that her knuckles flashed white. She froze, unable to move fully into the room. She still saw Janice as the skinny, flat-chested girl who would look her in the eye with a smile and say something like, I heard you had a great time with so and so last night behind the firehouse. Oh, you don’t remember? Don’t worry. Everyone else knows, and I’m sure they won’t let you forget.

  Daisy took a deep breath and fought the urge to turn and flee.

  Michael turned red-rimmed eyes up to her. His nose was crusty and pink, and by the flush of his cheeks, she could tell he was burning with fever. A second glance at Janice showed dark circles beneath her eyes. Her muddy-brown hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, and her clothing was disheveled. The earmarks of the exhausted mom of a sick two-year-old—and the wife of an asshole. Janice had been one of the worst offenders, perpetuating the stereotypical blond-haired, blue-eyed, easy, sleazy reputation that Daisy had fought so hard to disprove, but it looked like she had changed a lot since high school.

  Daisy took a deep breath and shifted her eyes back to Michael. He was just a little guy—a miserably sick little guy. She released the door handle and tried not to flinch when the door clicked shut behind her. She couldn’t, wouldn’t, let their past influence the medical care she gave Janice’s son.

  “Hey there, Michael. I hear you’re not feeling so well. Would you like me to examine you on Mom’s lap?” She tried to smile at Janice but couldn’t quite pull it off.

  Janice mouthed, Thank you. She had married Darren Treelong shortly after high school, and rumor had it that he was drinking again. Daisy felt for Janice, despite their history.

  “Has Michael been eating, drinking?”

  “Not much. He ate some applesauce, and I’m trying to get him to drink, but he just sips it.” She brushed Michael’s dark hair from his forehead.

  “Okay, let’s see what’s going on. Do you mind if I stick this funny-looking thing into your ear for a few seconds to check your temperature?”

  Michael pushed his nose between his mother’s breasts.

  “I’m sorry. He’s overtired,” Janice explained, trying to pull Michael from her chest. “It’s okay, honey. She’s not going to hurt you.”

  Daisy blew up a latex glove, which she wasn’t really supposed to do because it was wasteful and the clinic worked with limited funds, but some things were more important than a wasted glove. She crouched down so she was eye to eye with Michael. “I’ll let you have my special balloon if you let me examine you.”

  He eyed the hand-shaped balloon before stretching his spindly arm out and taking it from Daisy. While he played with the balloon, Daisy took his temperature and checked his ears. He was so engrossed in the new toy that he allowed her to lay him down and palpate his stomach.

  “Well, it looks like he has a fever and an ear infection that we can take care of with antibiotics.”

  Janice sighed with relief. “I knew he did. Every time he lies down, he screams, and the doctor told me the last time he had a fever that if he did that, it could be an ear infection.”

  Daisy wrote the prescription and handed it to Janice. “How long has he had this, Janice? Both ears are red and inflamed.”

  She shrugged. “Couple days.”

  “Did you take him to your family doctor?” She knew Janice hadn’t. If she had, he would have been treated before his ears became so inflamed. The poor boy had to be in tremendous pain.

  Janice sighed. “No. It’s so far away, and I thought with Tylenol and Motrin it would go away, but…”

  “Janice, ear infections are terribly painful, and fevers exacerbate pain. Next time he has a fever, please take him to see his doctor right away. He could have been treated when the infection first came on, alleviating his pain and your sleepless nights.” She didn’t like to sound so preachy, but Michael’s health was more important than the forty-five-minute drive it took to reach his doctor’s office. “The antibiotics should kick in after twenty-four hours. If he’s still having pain in three days, take him to your family doctor.” Since the clinic was supposed to provide only urgent-care services, and doctors should have full family histories in order to best evaluate and treat their patients, it was Daisy’s job to remind patients that seeing their family doctors was important.

  Daisy watched her leave. Even though she was adept at tucking away the pain from years of being made to feel cheap simply because of her looks, her chest still tightened when she saw the girls who had given her such a hard time in high school. She was thrown right back to the bullied young girl she used to be. She took a second to breathe deeply and to remind herself that she was no longer that defenseless girl before heading back to the front desk.

  The front desk secretary, Kari Long, handed Daisy a file. “The results of Mr. Mace’s blood work are here. He’s lying down in room two.” Kari had moved into Trusty when she married four years earlier. She was thirty-five, three months pregnant, and had twin four-year-olds.

  Daisy had known Mr. and Mrs. Mace her whole life, and he, like many other Trusty folks, didn’t take very good care of himself. She wasn’t surprised to see his blood glucose level was elevated. In the exam room, she greeted them both and quickly assessed his flushed skin and the fear in his wide brown eyes before moving to his side and taking his hand in hers.

  “Mr. Mace, this is the second time you’ve been into the clinic in the last five days. Did you see your family doctor like I advised?”

  He huffed a breath. “You know that I don’t have time to drive all that way and wait in a doctor’s office. I have a farm to run.”

  She’d heard this from so many patients that she had to stifle the urge to shake some sense into them. “You have type 2 diabetes. This is no joke, Mr. Mace. Your blood glucose is high, and your hemoglobin A1C is high, which means this is a chronic condition. You need to see your doctor and get this under control.”

  He pushed himself up on one elbow. “If Doc Waxman was still around, he’d take care of it for me. Can’t you do whatever needs to be done? You’re five minutes from my house.”
/>   If she had a dollar for every time she’d been asked that in the past two weeks, she’d have an extra thirty bucks. Enough for a cheap bottle of wine, which right now, sounded damn good.

  “This is an urgent-care clinic, not a family practice, and you know that I’m only here temporarily. I’ll be off to Chicago or New York in no time.”

  “But I trust you, Daisy.”

  Daisy. She’d always be Daisy in Trusty, whether her lab coat read Dr. Honey or not. She wondered if it had been that way for Dr. Waxman when he’d first started out. He’d talked with Daisy about medical school, and he’d prepared her for the difficulties and challenges and encouraged her not to give up, but he’d never prepared her for the lack of respect she’d encounter as a medical professional in Trusty.

  “Then trust my advice, and see your doctor.” She administered a shot of insulin and squeezed his hand, then spoke in a soft, but firm tone to both him and his wife. The worry in Mrs. Mace’s eyes mirrored Daisy’s. She truly liked Mr. Mace, and she wanted him to be healthy. “Please see your doctor. I know driving there is a pain, and I know you’re busy, but left unchecked, this can damage your kidneys and liver.”

  Helen Mace was fleshy and thick waisted. She and Mr. Mace had three children, and the way she looked at her husband spoke of years of love, even if her tone was harsh. “You know he’s as stubborn as a mule, Daisy. He won’t let me take him ten minutes away, much less forty-five.”

  “Mr. Mace?” Daisy shot him what she hoped was a stern look of disapproval. “Promise me you will allow her to take you.”

  He rolled his eyes.

  “See? See what I’m dealing with?” Helen took his hand in hers. “We have a grandchild on the way. I keep telling him to see a doctor so he’s around to enjoy the baby when it comes.”