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Chapter Six
After dinner, near sundown, Bridget looked out the kitchen window and noticed the light shining in the window of the horse shed. She guessed that it had to be Jonas returning their two horses. She hesitated at the sink, then quickly wiped her hands on a dishtowel.
There was the tack to be cleaned and put away and the horses to be fed. She couldn’t let Jonas do that. She was already in his debt because of Molly. And that was another thing she wanted to clear up.
Glancing over the breakfast bar into the living room, Bridget could see Molly lying on the sofa in front of the television. She was wearing a loose-fitting cotton robe of Bridget’s to keep from irritating the abrasions on her arm and leg.
“Molly, Jonas has brought the horses back. I’m going out to take care of them,” she called to her daughter, but didn’t receive an answer. She walked partway into the living room and saw that Molly had fallen asleep.
Bridget debated whether or not to wake her, then decided against it. She would probably be back in the house before Molly woke to find her gone. Quietly, she slipped out the back door of the house and hurried to the stables. The golden shadows of sunset were coloring the green hills rising from the valley meadow.
Unlatching the door, she swung it open and stepped inside. A breathy excitement gripped her lungs, a sensation she always experienced on meeting Jonas. She was greeted by the pungent odor of horse liniment burning her nose, and the nicker of a horse.
The sorrel mare, Flash, was in her stall, the well-formed head turned, ears pricked at Bridget’s entrance. But it was the adjoining stall where the gleaming hindquarters of Molly’s bay were visible that drew Bridget’s gaze. She could hear the rustle of straw and the low, soft crooning of a masculine voice.
Bridget walked to the end of the stall and stopped as Jonas straightened from his crouch beside the bay’s front legs. In the shadowy glow of the overhead lightbulb, his hair was rumpled and gold lights glistened in the brown thickness.
He was tall and lean and rugged, the way she liked to remember him, with a faded denim jacket hanging open, a worn cotton shirt opened at the throat, and snug-fitting Levi’s that molded the muscular length of his thighs and legs.
There was a veiled intensity in the way his eyes returned her look. Temporarily, Bridget forgot why she had come to the shed, her voice forgetting how to work.
“How’s Molly?” Jonas turned slightly, picking up the bottle of liniment from the manger to cap it.
“Fine,” she nodded jerkily.
“I fed and watered the horses, cleaned the tack, and put it away.” He ran a stroking hand over the bay’s flank, pushing the horse aside to walk from the stall.
“There was no need for you to do that,” Bridget protested. Her poise returned along with her common sense. She had to heed the inner voice warning her not to let his sensual attraction overwhelm her. “I didn’t expect it.”
His gaze briefly swept her figure, an unnervingly thorough study despite its swiftness. “It was no trouble.” He shrugged indifferently and walked by her to replace the liniment in the metal cabinet on the far wall.
“Maybe not, but I—”
Jonas interrupted as if he didn’t care what else she had to say. “The mare’s right fetlock is slightly swollen. You might have your father look at it or call a vet.”
“I—I’ll do that,” Bridget replied, momentarily nonplussed.
“I’d like to see Molly before I leave,” he stated.
“She really is fine,” she assured him quickly, not wanting to invite him into the house.
A mocking light entered his eyes and his mouth quirked slightly. “Do you object if I see that for myself?”
He was a doctor, Bridget reminded herself, and she should treat him as such. She had to school herself to be indifferent to his presence. It wasn’t as if she would be alone with him. Molly was in the house, albeit sleeping, but she was there.
“Of course not.” Bridget started for the stable door. “She was sleeping when I left.”
Jonas followed, switching off the light and making no comment. Bridget hadn’t expected that her last remark would change his mind, although there had been the possibility it might have.
The twilight sky was suffused with purple as they walked to the house in silence. The evening star shimmered above the darkening green hills, the pale white of a crescent moon waiting also for night. But the air was still warm from the afternoon’s sun. The Vermont dusk was peaceful and serene, but Bridget couldn’t match its mood.
“Molly is in the living room lying on the sofa,” Bridget said as she walked through the back door of the house ahead of Jonas.
Her over-the-shoulder glance saw his nod of understanding, but he said nothing. Bridget led the way through the kitchen into the living room where Molly lay still sleeping on the sofa. Jonas stood above her, but made no attempt to wake her.
“Has she complained of anything?” he asked.
“A slight headache. I gave her two pain reliever tablets a few hours ago,” Bridget admitted.
