Harbor Street (Cedar Cove #5)(82)

The stallion, however, did and reared his head, alerting Cal to the fact that someone else was present.

Cal straightened and glanced over his shoulder. When he saw her, he dropped the horse’s foot. The stallion didn’t take kindly to such neglectful treatment; he snorted and pawed the ground.

As if to apologize, Cal removed his glove and stroked the animal’s nose.

Linnette noticed that the bandage was off, and she grimaced at the risk of infection.

Without a word, he grasped the stallion’s halter and led him into a stall.

“You weren’t stuttering,” she said when he came out.

He stared at her. “I d-d-don’t with a-a-animals.”

“Just people?”

He nodded, then shrugged, suggesting he didn’t understand it himself.

For a moment she’d nearly forgotten the true purpose of her visit. “How’s the hand?” she asked in a concerned voice.

Cal looked at it as if he’d forgotten, and again answered with a shrug, a quick lift of his shoulders.

“What about those stitches?”

“I t-took care of it.”

“I can check it, if you like.” The moment she said that, she knew giving him a choice was a mistake. “You’ve kept it clean, haven’t you?”

“I don’t need your help.”

He felt strongly enough about that to be able to speak without a single hesitation.

“I know, but I was in the area and thought I’d stop by.” He’d probably see through that weak explanation, but it was the best she could do.

“Un-in-n-n-vited?”

Linnette gestured carelessly, as though she often stopped by people’s homes unannounced, welcome or not. Refusing to give him an opportunity to argue, she stepped forward. “Let me see your hand.”

At first he seemed about to refuse. She peered around the dimly lit space. The inside of a barn wasn’t the best place to examine a cut. “Is there someplace else we could go so I could take a look at this in the light?” she asked.

He nodded reluctantly, then led her to the stairs and without a word, headed up to what must be his apartment. When she reached the top, he let her inside. The apartment was surprisingly spacious and modern. However, it was badly in need of a woman’s touch. The windows had no blinds or curtains; the furniture was bulky and dark. The only photographs were of horses, the only decoration a pillow at the end of the sofa.

Cal pulled out a kitchen chair for her and went to the sink. He lathered his hands with soap, drying them on a kitchen towel. Then he sat down in the chair next to hers and laid his hand on the table, palm up. He smelled of fresh hay and leather—the scent she’d noticed on him the night he’d kissed her. It had acted like a powerful aphrodisiac then. It did now.

To disguise her attraction, Linnette examined her handiwork. The cut had healed nicely. “You took good care of it,” she said, and smoothly ran her fingers over his palm. At the feel of her skin against his, Cal bristled. She chose to ignore his revulsion at her touch. “I don’t see any infection.”

“N-none,” he agreed.

She looked up long enough to smile. Long enough to let him read the message in her eyes. The regret, the fear of rejection, the apology. He had to understand that she hadn’t found it easy to come to him like this.

“I’m enjoying my work at the medical clinic,” she said casually, disregarding his impatience. “I’ve seen a variety of cases. It’s something different every day.”

Cal didn’t comment.

“Working with Dr. Timmons has been interesting.”

Cal seemed to tense at the mention of the other man.

“Have you ever done anything you regret?” she asked. She didn’t give him the opportunity to answer, for fear of what he’d say. Perhaps he regretted having kissed her.

“I met Chad at the hospital while I was training in Seattle,” she said. “I was attracted to him then, and I felt elated when I discovered he was going to work at the clinic, too.”

He didn’t react, didn’t respond.

“I know now that my attraction to him was a schoolgirl crush. His interests lie elsewhere and—and as a matter of fact, so do mine.” She held his gaze for an extra-long moment. “Cal,” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I am so sorry for the way I treated you—so very sorry.”

He still didn’t respond, and she read the indecision in his eyes, as if he wasn’t convinced he should trust her.

“I knew almost immediately,” she continued, bending her head. “You kissed me and I was afraid. I know that sounds idiotic, but I was. I didn’t want to be attracted to you. I didn’t want to feel the things I did when you touched me.” She exhaled and hoped he sensed how much it had cost her to be this honest. “I even went to my dad and talked to him about you. He said I should let it rest.”

“H-he’s a w-w-wise man.”

Linnette pretended not to hear him. “Dad said I should wait to see if you came back into my life. A couple of weeks after that, you were in the clinic with this cut.” She didn’t add how absolutely delighted she was to see him, despite his injury. That injury had been the working of fate, the fate her father had alluded to.

“Timmons?” he asked, his eyes narrowed.