She glanced over at him, simply studied him for a fraction of a second, then, without a word, turned her attention back to the dirt road and the never-ending expanse of nothingness stretching out in front of them.

But in that fraction of a second he felt … There weren’t any words to describe it, really. Except she’d looked not into his soul but through it, and it shook him. Shook him bad.

“For us,” he conceded. “And for our son. I really want to make this work, Belle. We may not be married, but Michael needs consistency from us … together.”

No. 1 Dad
in Texas
Dianne Drake

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Chris, one of the people I love most. You make the world a better place.

Dear Reader

When I approached my editor with an idea to write a story featuring a child with Asperger’s Syndrome Mills & Boon® stood behind me solidly—for which I’m grateful. Asperger’s has become popularised in fiction lately. I knew some of the overall facts, but after I began the deep research I needed for this book what I discovered was that every piece of information written about Asperger’s Syndrome is basically the same: a laundry list of traits.

Then I met Chris who, with his Asperger’s Syndrome, pretty much defies everything on the experts’ list. And Chris is where the idea for my story went—from that laundry list of traits to the real face of Asperger’s Syndrome. Musician, composer, poet, computer tech, athlete, scholar … you won’t find those on the lists, but that’s who Chris is—as well as a guy who absolutely makes direct eye contact and has a wicked, funny sense of humour. While he’s not the character Michael I created, Chris inspired me to find that little boy—and, amazingly, what I discovered is that my Michael is pretty much like every other seven-year-old boy.

I think we tend to believe the lists, no matter what the situation or diagnosed condition. But Michael is an athlete, a computer genius, he loves bugs, plays games, has a passion for pizza, and the desperate wish of his heart is that his mom and dad will get back together. He’s a kid with a plan.

Michael is also a kid with parents who love him more than anything in the world, and who are both trying hard to give him the support he’ll need in the struggles he’ll face in life. It’s through Michael’s eyes they finally see themselves.

As always, wishing you health and happiness.

Dianne Drake

www.DianneDrake.com

CHAPTER ONE

“ANYONE else?” Dr. Belle Carter called out to the ten or so ranch hands standing around, gawking at her. She was used to men gawking, but not like this bunch was doing. They were queasy, some of them wobbling on their feet, grabbing on to furniture, hugging walls. If there was a particular shade of color common to the sickly lot presently resisting her, she’d call it gray-green. But food poisoning did that, even in slight cases. Today, the old E. coli bug had struck down half the crew who worked on the Chachalaca Creek Ranch outside Big Badger, Texas. She’d suspected bad bean sprouts on the salad were the culprit when she’d sent the first samples to the lab for tests, though she was actually quite encouraged over a bunch of cowboys eating salads and not big, thick steaks or pork chops. Until all those cowboys let her take a look, she wasn’t going to be sure about anything, though. “If you’ve still got any of the symptoms I’ve just described, or talked about the other times I was out here, you’d better tell me now. If you don’t, it’s going to knock you down, maybe for up to ten days. That’s a promise.” She held up a large bottle of pills, rattled it for effect. “Anti-nausea pills, if you’re interested.” Which nobody was. This was her third trip out here for this, and her last, if they continued to shun her the way they were doing.

“It’s hard getting used to a new doc in town,” Maudie Tucker, her nurse, said under her breath as she pulled Belle back from the men. “These boys are used to the way Doc Nelson used to do it, and having a lady doc makes them jumpy. They don’t trust you yet.”

They didn’t trust her? That was clear. But they were sick, and in most cases sickness would override distrust. Not here apparently, and she was about to be bested by a bacterial gastric upset. “But Doc Nelson eloped with his thirty-five-years-his-junior receptionist, and I’m the only doctor within a hundred miles, so it’s get used to the lady doctor or ride out the illness without my help,” she whispered back, sympathetic to the men’s plight and at the same time annoyed, watching them lope and drag themselves in single file into the next room over—the game room. Just to get away from her. As if she couldn’t follow them and perform their exams on the pool table if she had to.

“It’ll take them some time to adjust,” Maudie replied. “Folks around here are cautious, but they’ll get used to you—eventually.”

“Eventually’s not good enough. They’re sick right now.” Belle loved Maudie to pieces. She’d come with the medical practice, boasted forty-two years of hard-boiled nursing, and if she could she’d mother every one of Big Badger’s citizens. Today, though, mothering wouldn’t work. But a firm hand would, and she doubted Maudie had it in her to be firm with any of the ranch hands. “Which means they take the pills or …” She shrugged. “Some of them will probably get sicker, incur more time off work, and have to face the consequences when I explain to the ranch owner that they refused treatment—treatment he hired me to give.” It also meant she was going to be the one to take a hard line here, if she intended on getting somewhere with the men. So she was going to chase them down, examine them, and treat them, whether or not they liked it. Good thing she was used to taking a hard line. Dr. Belle Carter, family practice specialist, had developed pretty thick skin over the course. Had had to, with what she’d gone through to get to this point in her life—tackling med school years later than many of her classmates, being a single mother, marriage to a man who’d spent most of their wedded years somewhere else. Married, past tense, naturally.

So today, with ten moderately sick people trying desperately to run away from her in their sluggardly sick gait, six appointments back at the office this afternoon, and flu vaccinations to give out later at the Salt Creek Ranch, she was extra-busy, and time was something she didn’t have much of because at the end of it all she’d promised most of her evening to her son, Michael, and that was a promise she didn’t want to break. He was the reason she was doing this, and doing it the hard way.

“My purpose here, my only purpose, is to have a look at each and every one of them, check their vital signs to make sure nothing else is going on and assess for dehydration or worsening symptoms, then treat what I find. It’s a simple thing. Or it should be, if they’d let me do my job.”

“Need some help?” a familiar voice asked from the doorway. “I don’t have my medical bag with me this trip, but I can certainly help you with some of the process.”

Anger was her first reaction to that voice. Then her heart skipped a beat. Then her lungs clutched, but only for a fraction of a second as when she caught her breath again she was right back at anger.

“What are you doing here, Cade?” she hissed, trying hard not to let the ranch hands overhear, even though every last one of them had now exited the room. “It’s not your weekend. In fact, it’s not even a weekend. So why are you here, bothering me, while I’m trying to do my job?”

“I’m here because I missed my favorite person in the world.”

She swallowed hard, fighting to regain control as all the ranch hands in the other room, no matter how sick, were watching her, gauging her reaction, probably trying to find some argument to use against her when they were called out for refusing treatment. She sucked in a deep breath, squared her shoulders, steadied herself, and said, with all the calmness she could muster, “He’s in school.” Three words, so much effort. But Cade took effort.

Oh, they had an amicable situation where Michael was concerned. No one looking on could say otherwise. Twice a month Cade flew from Chicago to Texas to visit his son, and he never missed a date, never made excuses. He was diligent in that, something she actually admired in the man. In fact, she’d seen Cade more often in the two months she and Michael had lived in Texas than she had the last two months they’d lived a block down the street from him. He’d never missed his visitation then either. But in that situation it had been easier to avoid Cade, which she did as often as she could.

Now, though, with Cade showing up on her doorstep so often, coming from so far away, avoiding him wasn’t all that easy. “And I don’t need help taking care of my patients.” Finally, now that the first flush of anger was under control, and nothing was skipping, clutching, or doing anything abnormal to her physiology, she turned to face him. “How did you know where to find me anyway?”

He looked straight at Maudie, who was blushing all kinds of red, and smiled. “I have a few friends here in Big Badger, Texas.”

Dr. Cade Carter could sweet-talk the needles right off a prickly old cactus. He was a charmer, all right. Nothing about him had changed in that respect, and Maudie Tucker was the living proof. “Well, in case your friend didn’t tell you, I’ve got a busy day ahead of me and I don’t have time to waste standing here talking to you. But since you’re here, for who knows what reason, you can see Michael after school. I’ll call Virginia and let her know you’ll be picking him up.” Virginia Ellison, retired librarian, was Michael’s caregiver, and the only person in Big Badger she really trusted with her son.

“Except it’s not just Michael I came to see. Normally, when I’m here on my visitation weekends, there’s not enough time or you’re too busy. But we need to talk, Belle. There are some things I want to say, want to tell you, that don’t fit into the regular schedule, and I was hoping …” He shrugged. “It’s important. That’s all I’m saying.”

Now her heart skipped a beat again, and not in a good way. She’d had years of disappointments, one after another, from this man, and she was conditioned for it. But not here, not now, and that’s all she could think this would be. Cade changing something, Cade doing something that would affect her life. The divorce, five years ago, had ended all the letdowns and she didn’t want to go back to that. Not even for a minute. Yet it felt like that’s exactly where Cade was trying to drag her now. Except nearly ten years of having Cade Carter in her life had taught her how to dig her heels in. But those same years of Cade Carter had also taught her just how vulnerable she could be to him, if she let herself.

“I’m working, Cade. Whatever you want, we’ll do it later when I’m ready. And in the meantime, leave me alone.”

“Fine, later. When you’re ready. But in the meantime, it looks to me like you could use another doctor here.”

She glanced into the next room at her patients, who all seemed to have lost interest in the interchange between Cade and herself, then took two steps closer to Cade. Gritted her teeth. Whispered, “Don’t do this to me in front of my patients, Cade Carter. Do not undermine my abilities by implying that I can’t do my job without your help. So get out of here and leave me alone.”

“I was just offering,” he said, not budging.

Just offering. But what was he really offering here? That’s what had her stumped. They’d been divorced five years now, and she’d been relieved to see it end when it had. Sure, it had been sad, in so many ways. Especially because of Michael. But she couldn’t have survived with Cade. She’d needed more, he’d needed less. “Fine. We’ll talk later. Whatever kind of bad news you’re going to spring on me can wait until I’ve finished my day.”

“I never meant to do that to you, you know?”

“Do what?”

“Make you think the worst of me. Or anticipate that anything I have to say to you is bad news.”

“I don’t think the worst of you, Cade. But we were married, remember? I got used to having the worst of you.”

“And sometimes the best.” He cocked a half-smile, stepped back, tipped his cowboy hat at her. “Later,” he said, then turned and walked off.

“Surprised you’d let him get away,” Maudie commented, watching him almost as hard as Belle was.

“You can’t keep someone who doesn’t want to be kept, Maudie,” she said, turning back to the group of men she’d come to treat. Now, though, her mind was on Cade. Good dad. First-rate surgeon. And the last person she’d expected to see when he wasn’t scheduled for a weekend with Michael. But Cade was up to something. She knew it, felt it, didn’t know what it was, and that’s what she had to get her mind off right now.

“OK, everybody,” Belle said, fighting to refocus on her patients. “Here’s the deal. I’ve got a kid to support. He’s seven. I don’t have a lot of time to spend with him, and the longer it takes here, the less time Michael and I are going to have. So you can fight me on this, refuse to let me check you, but it’s affecting my son. Any of you have children you’d like to spend more time with, or mothers who’d love spending more time with you? Because if you do, then you’ll understand what I’m talking about, and get in line so I can get this done as quickly as possible.”

“Ah, the sentimental touch. Well done,” Maudie joked as, one by one, the men started to trickle forward.

Belle laughed. “Whatever it takes.” She wondered what it would take with Cade. Surely he wanted something she didn’t want to give. Quite the opposite from their marriage, where she’d wanted something he hadn’t wanted to give. Definitely, whatever it takes, she thought to herself.

Two hours later Belle was pleased with the results of her morning. All but three ranch hands had eventually fallen in line. This evening, once the nausea pills took effect, all but three ranch hands would feel better. Had she gained any respect from these men? Nah. She wasn’t that deluded. They’d sympathized either as a father or a son. It was good enough for now. Battle number one went to the lady doctor. Battle number two coming up, though, with Cade? No, she didn’t know for sure there was going to be a battle between them, but she was clearly feeling something in the pit of her stomach, and it made her nervous, as the only thing she could think that Cade would want was Michael.

“Didn’t mean to put you in a spot,” Cade said, as Belle stepped out of her car.

“That’s an apology?”

“If you need one then, yes, it’s an apology.”

He was leaning up against the entrance to her office, standing in the shade, cowboy hat tipped low over his face. Admittedly, he still took away her breath. A sexier, better-looking man God had never put on the face of this earth, and she responded to that in huge ways. Dark brown hair just slightly wavy, slate-gray eyes. Tall, muscled physique of a god. She’d responded to it too quickly all those years ago, jumping into his bed the first opportunity she’d had, then into marriage at approximately the same irresponsible speed. “What’s with the hat?” She’d never seen him in a cowboy hat before today, but it did him justice. If anything, it made him look sexier.

“When in Texas.” He tilted the brim back. Stared her in the eye. “Since you’re raising my son to be a cowboy now.”

“Apology accepted, but don’t ever do that to me again, Cade,” she warned, brushing by him to unlock the door. “I’m having a hard enough time as it is, establishing myself here in the wake of the legendary Dr. Nelson, and I don’t need you stepping in to help me, or whatever it was you were trying to do out there on the Chachalaca. And why are you here anyway? You just left three days ago, and you’re not due back for—”

“Nine more days, which is why I’m here now. Nine days is a long time. Too long.”

That feeling in the pit of her stomach turned into a hard knot as the hint of a custody battle took on stronger overtones. Cade had never fought her on her being custodial parent, so why now? “Meaning?” she asked, struggling not to sound as apprehensive as she felt.

“Meaning I don’t get enough time with Michael. He’s growing up, and every other weekend isn’t working for me. You’ve been gone two months, Belle, and the arrangement is driving me crazy. So I decided to take a few weeks off my practice and hang around Big Badger, see what’s rocking his world these days. Discover things I can’t discover in my allotted few hours of visitation.”

“Why now, Cade? It’s been this way for five years, so why now?”

“Because I’m getting older.”

She shook her head. “That’s not it.”

“Maybe there’s not one certain ‘it’, Belle. Maybe I just want to be included more.”

Like he’d wanted to be included in their marriage, but hardly ever showed up for it? Like he’d wanted to be included in so many of the other milestones they should have been celebrating as a family, only Cade had always, conveniently, been missing from them? Cade had been the consummate husband in absentia, so why this? And why now? “You’re not sick, are you? A terminal illness, or something life-threatening?”

He chuckled. “You always were straight to the point but, no, I’m not sick. Does that disappoint you?”

“Believe it or not, Cade, I don’t hate you. Never have, and unless you give me cause, like taking Michael away from me, I never will.”

“Is that what you think? That I’m here to take Michael away from you?”

“Seems logical, doesn’t it? Things are going along fine then, out of the blue, you’re here, telling me you want to make changes. So is that what it’s about, Cade? Do you want to take Michael away from me?”

“What I want, what I’ve always wanted, is what’s best for him. That’s you, Belle. I wouldn’t take him away from you, and I’m sorry you’d think I would.” He shook his head. “That’s the second time I’ve apologized for causing you to think the worst of me. It’s not how I want it to be between us, you know.”

She was relieved. Still curious, since Cade was acting so out of character. But very relieved. “I know, and neither do I. And for what it’s worth, I really didn’t think you would take him from me. We’ve had our bad moments, Cade, but I didn’t think you’d do that. It’s just that you showing up here the way you have makes me uncomfortable. I don’t know what to expect.”

“And in your life you always like to know what to expect.” It was said with no malicious intent whatsoever.

“It’s who I am.” And part of the reason their marriage had failed. Cade never had understood that in her. “So anyway, I know you miss Michael, but what’s the real reason you’re here?”

“That is the real reason. Can’t it be just that simple?”

She shook her head, then gestured for him to follow her through to the exam rooms and into her private office, trying not to think about how Cade was still on the verge of something that, try as she did to fight it, made her feel anxious. “So, on a whim, you can just walk away from your surgical practice?” she asked, shutting the door behind her and grappling for something, anything, to steady her nerves. A deep breath, a sturdy wall to lean on. Amicable divorce, yes, amicable parenting arrangements, yes. But there was nothing amicable about the way she was feeling as this was all about Cade wanting to change her life again, no matter how simple he claimed this matter of his was going to be. “You can just decide you don’t want to work then fly to Texas for a day or two?”

“Actually, like I said a minute ago, I’m here for a few weeks. That’s one of the advantages of being co-owner of a growing surgical practice. You get to make the rules. And since there are always a dozen or so other surgeons to cover for me, I decided I needed—well, you can believe what you want, but I came to spend some time with Michael.”

“Really? A few weeks?” This was making less and less sense by the minute. “You’re going to stay in Big Badger for a few weeks?” Normally, Cade was one step shy of arrogance, but she didn’t see that in his eyes. They were the eyes that kept him hidden, blocked the light from his soul. Not now, though. Cade was not only serious about staying here, he was emotionally invested in it.

“Seriously, Belle, is wanting more time with my son such a bad thing?”

Under most circumstances, no. And she didn’t know what to think about this now. Except she’d seen that flicker of emotion in his eyes just then. Brief, but definitely there. The same flicker of emotion she’d seen the day Michael had been born, same flicker she’d seen the day she’d told Cade that Michael had been diagnosed with Asperger’s syndrome. Cade Carter kept most of himself hidden, but not always. And those unhidden moments were always genuine. She knew that with all her heart. “OK, I understand that you’re not going to tell me everything, and I don’t have time to stand here and try arguing it out of you. I do think you want to see Michael, and for now I’m going to leave it at that. But later, Cade. We’re going to deal with this—this whatever it is—whether or not you like it.”

“I swear, it’s all about Michael,” he said, putting on the old Cade grin. The charmer grin that had got her into trouble in the first place. “And since we have an open agreement about him—”

“Before you make any more plans, I’ve made arrangements for him in Austin for the next three weeks. It’s a good program. It’s gained lots of awards for its advances in autism, and is headed by a doctor who’s internationally known for her work.”

“Which he doesn’t need to go to now that I’m here to spend that time with him.”

“But it’s arranged.”

“And I don’t remember you asking me about it.”

“OK, maybe I should have asked, like you should have asked before just showing up here unannounced. But a month ago, when I told you I wanted to talk to you about a program I’d found for him, you said you’d get back to me. Said that to me each of the three other times I tried talking to you about it. Remember that?”

He drew in a stiff breath. “I was busy.”

“I was, too.” Now the charm had dissolved, and they were back to the same old problems. “But I made the time to investigate the program, and made the time to try and get you to listen to me about it. But you weren’t listening at all, were you? That’s why you’re here now. Because you didn’t hear a word I said, sort of like the way it was when we were married.” There was no disputing they both wanted what was best for their son, but that’s where the co-operation stopped. Cade had his ideas, which were, basically, more love and more involvement could cure anything. She had hers, which were to find her son the best available programs for children with Asperger’s syndrome. That didn’t preclude more love and more involvement. It merely gave Michael one more shot at having a better life. “So I hope you bought a round-trip ticket, because if you hurry, you can be back in Chicago by tonight.”

“Unenroll him. I want to spend the next few weeks with him.”

“No, I’m not going to unenroll him. You’ve got Michael six straight weeks at the end of summer, and that’s all you’re getting, so deal with it. Go home, leave me alone.” Arrangements had already been made for Cade to take Michael back to Chicago with him, which she didn’t like but which she hoped would be good for her son. Unlike Cade, she had no intention of stepping in and trying to upset things. Michael’s life was a precarious balance, and he didn’t need the disruption.

“And what I’ve been telling you is that six weeks aren’t enough, Belle. I miss him. It’s driving me crazy, knowing I can’t see Michael whenever I want to. Getting him for three-day weekends every other week and every other holiday isn’t cutting it. And half that time is spent in transit, flying down here to be with him and flying back to be home on time for my Monday morning surgeries. And, really, how much time do I get to spend with him when I’m here? Have you ever thought about it, Belle? Three, maybe four hours total, adjusting to his schedule and routines, as well as his attention span? Which is why I want to spend the whole summer with him, and not just part of it.” He drew in a ragged breath. “I need to connect better with my boy and teach him to connect better with me.”

She did have to admit Cade was the one who got cheated, especially as she was the one who’d moved from Chicago to Big Badger, breaking up a perfectly good custody arrangement, one much more conducive to Cade’s situation. But he was the Texas boy after all. The cowboy who’d spent every day of their marriage talking about how great Texas was, how he wanted to move back someday, how it was the best place in the country to raise kids.

Well, she’d listened. More than that, she’d believed. So now here she was, raising their kid in Texas. And here Cade wasn’t, except for his every-other-week visitations. “Look, it’s only a three-week program, Cade. You can have the three weeks after it’s over, here in Big Badger, though. And that would still give you more time than we’d originally planned.”

“But I want more than that,” he repeated, stubbornly.

“Without notice.”

“Because there was no notice to give. I decided to do this …” he glanced at his watch “… ten hours ago. Ten hours, Belle. I changed my life in the last ten hours because I miss my son. And I think spending the next few weeks with me will be better for Michael than sending him off into some program.”

Even if it was an excellent program, letting Michael spend time with his dad was the better situation. No argument there. And having Cade here would be wonderful for Michael. Still, one of the reasons she’d chosen to move to godforsaken Big Badger was to be close to Dr. Amanda Robinson. Sure, the town had made her an offer she couldn’t refuse, but it was one of three amazing offers that had come at her. The decision had come down to Amanda’s excellent reputation in autism. She worked miracles with kids no one expected miracles from, and to be so close to all that was why she was working in a town that didn’t want a lady doctor, and being on call to a bunch of hostile ranch hands. Yet nothing Amanda could or would do would substitute for the fact that Michael needed his father, and that’s what ultimately changed Belle’s mind. Not Cade’s need, but Michael’s. “OK. If you’re really going to stay here, I’ll pull him out of the program. But there’s a three-day trip he’s been begging to go on, and I’m not cancelling that, no matter what you say. Dr. Robinson is doing good things for Michael and I don’t want to cause problems with that.”

“You think that highly of the good doctor’s program?”

“I do. Michael needs that kind of professional guidance and I need that kind of personal support. With Amanda, we get both.”

“Good. Then I can live with that.”

But could she? Big Badger was a small town, there wasn’t much to do here. And she could envision herself bumping into Cade every time she turned around for the next six weeks. Bumps she didn’t want to be making. “It’s not about what you can live with,” she snapped. “It’s about what’s best for Michael. Dr. Robinson’s part of it, but you’re a bigger part.” He’d spent their married life staying away, and she’d got used to it. Got used to the distances in their divorce, too, and she wasn’t sure what having him around all the time was going to do to her. But for Michael … “And you’re not staying with me.”

“Didn’t intend to. I took a room at the boarding house. Paid for the full six weeks.”

He smiled, arched ridiculously sexy eyebrows—the whole Cade effect that had always been her downfall.

“Cade Carter, staying in a boarding house and not some luxurious hotel suite?” Belle raised her eyebrows over that one, because it told her, whatever his reason, he was dead serious about spending more time with Michael.

“Find me a luxurious hotel in Big Badger, and I’ll check in.”

“And you’re still not going to tell me what this is really about?” There wasn’t a casual explanation. Knowing Cade, there couldn’t be. But Cade honestly loved Michael, even though Michael didn’t give much back to his dad. So maybe it was about Cade feeling excluded or unloved? Certainly, that’s how she would feel if Michael was as unresponsive to her as he was to Cade. So she hoped that was the simple explanation after all.

But there’d been a time when she’d hoped so many things about Cade, and look where that had got her.

“I can tell you a thousand times a day for the next six weeks. My being here is about spending more time with Michael. That’s all, Belladonna.”

Nope. She knew Cade, and she didn’t buy it. But, as they said, forewarned was forearmed. Only she didn’t know against what. “Fine. You’ve got your extra six weeks. And don’t call me Belladonna.” Meaning beautiful woman, or deadly nightshade, take your pick. It used to be his pet name for her, used when he’d wanted to get his way. Which he’d just done, hadn’t he?

The charmer grin grew larger as Cade tilted his hat back down over his eyes. “Anybody ever tell you you’re a real pushover, Belle Carter?”

Nobody had to tell her. When it came to Cade Carter, she always had been. Looked like that hadn’t changed too much either. “All the time,” she said, opening her office door and gesturing him to leave. “All the time.”

Belle watched him amble down the hall and out the back office door, admiring that same swagger she’d always admired. “So, what are you up to, Cade?” she asked, under her breath, as she shrugged into her white lab coat and headed off to see her first patient of the afternoon. “What are you really up to?” And how was she going to stay resistant to it? That was the big question.

“How would you like to spend more time with your dad this summer, Michael?” Kicking her shoes to the other side of the room, Belle dropped back onto the sofa and lay there, flat on her back, staring up at the ceiling. “Michael,” she said again, without glancing over. She knew what he was doing. Playing video games. The love of his life. Lately, though, he hadn’t been playing them so much as creating one of his own, doing preliminary sketches, working out the story details. “Did you hear me? I asked if you’d like to spend more time with your dad this summer.”

“Yeah,” Michael said, his rapt attention still fixed on his game.

“Well, he’s here. In Big Badger.” Not that telling him would make a difference, but he did process the information. Just not always on the spot. “And he wants to spend the summer with you. So you’ll have to start thinking about all the things you’d like to do with him, maybe make a list. OK?”

“Yeah,” he said.

Belle was sure he was simply telling her what she wanted to hear, and paying absolutely no attention to her at the same time. Complex mind. So complex that it scared her sometimes. Most of the time, though, she didn’t think about it. Because to Michael she was only Mom, doing the mom things she was supposed to do. Like making dinner. Her next chore. “What do you want to eat?” she asked him, then added, before he answered, “Not pizza. We’ve had that two night in a row now. So, what else?”

“Pizza,” he said anyway.

She wasn’t sure if that was because pizza was truly his favorite food or if it was simply what came to mind first, turning it into the easiest way to respond to her yet still stay focused on what he was doing. “No pizza,” she said emphatically.

“OK.” He turned to her, grinning. “Fried chicken, mashed potatoes without lumps with white gravy without lumps, corn on the cob and homemade biscuits. With honey.”

Belle moaned, then laughed. He did this on purpose—his sense of humor. Michael knew she couldn’t cook, at least not that kind of meal. And he teased her about it. “You mean hamburgers, don’t you? On the grill?”

“Can I cook them?” he asked.

“Do pigs fly?” she asked, teasing him.

“Only in another universe, Mom,” he said, then turned back to his game.

“When you say something cute like that, you know what I’m going to have to do, don’t you?”

“No!” he squealed, curling himself into a ball. “Not that!”

Belle rolled off the couch then crawled on hands and knees across the floor to Michael, who was rolling away from her. “Yes, that! The cuddle game. You know how much I love the cuddle game.” Her cuddle game was a form of hug therapy used on children who had an aversion to being touched, like Michael had had when he’d been younger. It was one of several sensory issues she’d been dealing with, along with loud noises and some bright colors. It had taken Belle years to get him to the point where accepting physical affection was a pleasant experience for him. Sometimes, even now, she wasn’t sure if it was or if he was merely putting on an act to placate her. Either way, it didn’t matter. A few minutes to cuddle her son meant everything. Everything.

“Can he come to dinner?” Michael asked, before Belle had even gotten all the way over to him.

Of all things, that was the one question that stopped her dead, threw that bucket of water on the cuddle game. Could Cade come to dinner? Her first response was, When pigs fly! She didn’t want to spend the evening with Cade. Didn’t particularly even want to be in the same room with him. But this was Michael asking. Michael, who never asked for anything except more RAM for his computer. “Well, I have a better idea than that. Why don’t I call your dad and see if he’ll come take you out for pizza?” Which was exactly what she did, when Michael’s attention, once again, returned to his game.

“He wants pizza, he wants you,” she said to Cade, when he answered his phone. “And what’s with the pickup truck I saw you in earlier?” A sleek, low-riding sports car was more his style.

“Had to rent something.”

“Well, Michael’s never been in a pickup truck so I don’t know if that’s going to work. You can leave it here and borrow my car.”

“Or I can leave your car right where it is and take him in the truck. Or would the two of you rather meet me somewhere?”

“I prefer the sound of a boys’ night out, while I take a long, hot bath and finish that mystery novel I’ve been trying to finish for the last month.” A night that might have, under different circumstances, been perfect. Tonight, though, the image of a cozy little family of three eating pizza together popped into her thoughts, making her feel, well, not sad for the present so much as sad for the things they’d had in the past. It seemed like such a long time ago. So far away it was difficult trying to remember when they’d been happy. They had been, though. In the early years, when Michael had still been a baby and she had been plunking along through medical school a little at a time, trying to balance motherhood and career. Good times for a while. So many hopes and dreams. Bright futures in the planning. But with a supportive husband for only such a short while before he’d started retreating. “Oh, and I’ve told Michael you’re going to be here for a while, and to get a list ready of things he wants to do with you. And before you tell me there’s nothing he wants to do with you, you’re wrong. There are a lot of things. You have to be patient, getting him to tell you.”

“But he will,” Cade replied. “Isn’t that what you always tell me? Be patient, and he’ll do it. Except he never does, Belle. Never does.”

He did, though. Cade simply wasn’t very good at picking up on the subtle signs. The irony was that that was a typical Asperger’s symptom. Only thing was, while Michael had Asperger’s, Cade did not. And it was Cade’s lack in that area that was, in part, responsible for the death of their marriage. “Then work on it. And, please, not video games and computers. He gets enough of that in his day-to-day life, and he really needs something else.”

“In Big Badger, Texas? What else is there, Belle? You pretty much came to the end of the earth with this job, and I can’t see this place being exactly stimulating for a child.”

“In Big Badger, Texas, you have to use your imagination. Get used to it, Cade. You’re the one who chose to spend six weeks here.” She thought she heard a groan on the other end of the phone. She smiled. “Pick him up in an hour. And make sure he wears his seat belt in that truck. He’s in a new phase where the seat belt bothers him, and he’ll take it off if he thinks you’re not watching. So watch him!”

“Anybody ever tell you to lighten up?”

“Anybody ever tell you that we’re divorced and I’m none of your business any more?” Still smiling, she clicked off. But rather than being angry, she was wondering if having Cade around for a while might be good. Definitely for Michael, but maybe a little bit for her, too? Funny thing was, since the moment she’d heard his voice out there on the Chachalaca, she’d had this peculiar feeling in the pit of her stomach. Suddenly, it was gone.

CHAPTER TWO

OK, so maybe it wasn’t the smartest thing he’d ever done, taking a leave of absence and coming to Texas. Not the most thought-out either, since he’d done it on the spur of the moment. But, damn it, he missed Michael. For all the rough patches in their relationship, and there were plenty of them, his kid was his life, and he hated it that he couldn’t see him any time, like he’d done before Belle had moved to Big Badger.

It was about his brother Robbie, too. It was his birthday today. That was another regret, realizing how much he’d missed. And guilt. Feeling it more acutely as the years rolled on. Recognizing he was well on that track with Michael, too.

So he’d endure Big Badger for a few weeks, see what he really wanted to do after that, and the trade-off for the things he hadn’t figured out yet was extra time to spend with Michael while he was traveling through yet another undecided phase of his life. Maybe, just maybe, he’d find a way to relate to his son better or, at the very least, get Michael to respond to him.

Spending time with Belle was also something he’d given a lot of thought to. He’d caused the divorce. There was no other way to look at it. She’d needed a husband, and he’d needed—well, he still didn’t know the answer to that, did he? But whatever it was, he owed Belle in a big way for the letdown of a husband he’d been, and while he couldn’t make that up to her, he could make some amends by being a better father.

How? He wasn’t sure. There weren’t many options open to him. But somewhere inside those next six weeks, maybe he’d prove himself to Michael, and also to Belle, by showing how he was more than the father who simply appeared at the door to pick up his kid every couple of weeks. What would he get from Belle in return? He didn’t have a clue, but he was willing to take anything. Michael needed that. So did he. Because those were some feelings he had to resolve as well while he was here.

Tall order to fulfill—better dad, better ex-husband. To move forward, though, that was his agenda, otherwise he’d have to step away from them altogether, for Michael’s sake, he told himself. Whatever he did, it had to be for Michael’s sake. And for Belle’s. Because, God knew, he didn’t deserve anything for his own sake.

“So, what kind of pizza do you want?” he asked Michael, as they headed to the truck.

“Mom coming?” Michael asked, trailing along behind Cade by a good ten large steps.

“Mom’s tired tonight. So it’s only going to be the two of us.” Not the best choice of words apparently, because once Michael heard them he stopped, then turned around and headed back to Belle’s front door. A purposeful march, and a very obvious one. Michael wanted his mother, not his dad. Understanding that, Cade felt his heart fall.

“I’ll get her,” Michael said.

“But she doesn’t want to come.” Neither did Michael.

“That’s OK. She likes pizza, too. Just not every night.”

With that, Michael disappeared back into the house, leaving Cade standing alone on the sidewalk. Feeling rotten. Inadequate. Feeling like an idiot for not knowing what to do now. Should he go after Michael, insist that pizza was only for the two of them? Ask Belle to come along to make the situation better? These were the things that eluded him, the things he should know how to manage. But didn’t.

“See, this is the way it always is,” he said, clearly frustrated when Belle appeared at the door with Michael in hand.

“I explained it, and now Michael understands that I’m not part of the pizza party tonight. He was just afraid that I might not fix myself anything for dinner.”

It was more than that. It was Michael showing concern for his mother in a way Cade had never seen. Or had never felt from Michael himself. It was a proud moment, seeing that in his son, yet a profoundly sad one as well. To Belle’s credit, though, for being such a good mother to Michael. “And will you?”

Belle shook her head. “Too tired. I’ll grab an apple, maybe some yogurt, and I’ll be good.” She scooted Michael out the door, then took a step back. “So you two have fun tonight. And I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”

“Sure you don’t want to come with us?” Cade called.

“Sure,” she said, shutting the door.

This time she locked it. Cade heard the bolt latch. “OK, then. It really is just the two of us.” And a whole summer ahead, with more of this. On top of which, he was going to be with Belle. Now, that was going to be the bigger challenge. Belle Elise Foster Carter—the best of his life while he was the worst of hers. Yes, she was definitely going to be the biggest challenge he was going to face in Big Badger, Texas.

“So tell me about school,” Cade said, handing a slice of pizza, pepperoni only, over to his son.

“It’s OK,” Michael replied, his attention fixed squarely on a floor-sized video game in the corner of the restaurant—a road-race game meant for kids twice his age.

“Is math still your favorite subject?”

“Um, yes.”

“Still like your science classes?”

“Uh-huh.”

It was clear Michael was more interested in the game than his dad, and Cade understood that. Still, it was frustrating not being able to hold his son’s attention for more than a fraction of a second, basically losing out to a game, and he was fighting to keep in his nettled sigh. Belle had the relationship with Michael he wanted. He was glad for her. But it bothered the hell out of him that, no matter how hard he tried with Michael, he was barely on his son’s radar. “Want to go play?” he finally asked, giving in to the obvious.

Michael nodded his head and, for a second, glanced at Cade. His expression was … happy? Did he see happiness in his son’s eyes, or was that merely wishful thinking? As quickly as Michael looked over, though, he looked away. Right back at the video game.

“After you finish your pizza,” Cade said. “Deal?”

Michael nodded. “Deal.” Then he crammed the rest of his pizza into his mouth, so much so his cheeks bulged as he tried to chew it and swallow. Finally, his mouth cleared, he held out his hand to Cade. “Money, please.”

“How much?” Cade asked, not expecting an answer.

“It’s a dollar a game. Can I play ten games? Because that would be ten dollars.”

Explained very seriously. But it was the most Michael had said all evening and for that Cade rewarded him with ten dollars. For a moment it crossed his mind to go play the game with Michael, but he knew that would cause his son more frustration than he could deal with, so he twisted his chair to watch, then leaned back to make himself more comfortable. “I’ll save you some pizza for later,” he said, before Michael scampered off.

“Thanks, Dad,” he said, clutching the handful of dollar bills like they were a lifesaving elixir.

Cade blinked his surprise. “You’re welcome. Oh, and, Michael …” he called, as Michael was already halfway across the room. “Have fun.”

“It was nice, hearing him call you Dad,” Belle said, settling into the chair next to Cade.

“Thought you were staying home.”

“Turns out I can’t.”

“Because you don’t think I can take good care of our son?” he asked. “Because you want to see, in action, how you’re the good mom and I’m the bad dad?”

Immediately, Belle bristled. “Don’t go there, Cade. I didn’t come down here to fight with you. I’ve got to go out to the Chachalaca again, to see a couple of the holdouts. The ranch owner threatened them with their jobs and now they’re willing to let the lady doc treat them. So don’t hassle me. This is my fourth time out there, and I’m not happy about it.”

“I could go,” he offered. “Seriously. You could take the rest of the night off, maybe stay here and finish the pizza, and I could go out to the Chachalaca.”

“Trying to make amends is nice, Cade, and I appreciate it. But duty calls, and this duty is mine. What I was wondering, though, is when you take Michael home later on, would you mind staying there with him until I get back? If you can’t, that’s fine. I can call Virginia Ellison, and she’ll be glad—”

“Not a problem,” he said, sliding the pizza box over toward Belle. “If it gets too late, I’ll sleep on the couch. Care for a slice to take with you?”

She laughed. “Between you and me, I really hate pizza. But Michael loves it, and sometimes it’s the only thing I can get him to eat.”

He pulled the pizza back and took a large slice for himself, one dripping with pizza sauce and cheese. “You’re the one who worked with him on calling me Dad, aren’t you?”

“I know it’s difficult for you, not getting to see him more, then when you do it takes him so long to warm up to you. So I thought—”

He held up his hand to stop her, then swallowed the bite in his mouth. “I appreciate it, even if it doesn’t come naturally to him. And what I just said about you coming here to watch me be the bad dad …” He sighed. “You are the good mom, you know. Sometimes when I see that, and see how Michael responds to you—it bothers me, Belle. And it bothers me that you had to teach my son to call me Dad. I loved hearing him say it, but I would have loved it even more if it had been spontaneous.”

“I think it was. Normally, I prompt him before your weekends. Just mention it once or twice. But this isn’t one of your weekends, and what’s happening now is totally off Michael’s routine. So I didn’t prompt him.”

Cade smiled, but didn’t respond, because he knew Belle was wrong. It was her work that had brought about Michael’s efforts. More than that, it made him feel terrible that, even in divorce, Belle cared more about his feelings than he’d ever cared about hers while they’d been married.

“Anyway …” She scooted back her chair to leave, then turned and waved to Michael, who took a moment to glance up from his game in progress. “I’ve got to go. So I’m going to go tell Michael where I’ll be while you polish off all that pizza, because he’s too caught up in his game to want any more of it.” She stepped away, stopped, then turned back to him. “You still got the six-pack?” Referring to his rock-hard abs.

The question totally surprised him. And intrigued him. “Why?”

“Just a warning about what can come from too many nights in the pizza parlor. And if Michael has his way with you, you’ll be here every night.” She smiled. “It would be a pity to mess up one of the good things about you, Cade.”

“Sounds like you almost care.”

“You had nice abs. That’s all I’m saying.” Then, finally, she walked away.

He watched, didn’t budge an inch to stand and be polite, or even walk along with her over to Michael. Belle, with her honey-blonde hair and sassy green eyes. And a sway to her hips that begged his stare. She was sexy as hell. Always had been, always would be. That’s what caught him first glance, but what reeled him in was her intelligence, and her overall zest for life. Belle did life in a big way, bigger than anybody he’d ever met in his life. So straightforward about it, too, like she’d been just then. She still remembered liking his abs? He wasn’t sure how to take it. Maybe as a compliment, maybe as a warning, like she’d said.

Or maybe—nah, he wasn’t going there. He had friends who’d told him sex with the ex after the divorce was awesome. Maybe it was, he didn’t know. But Belle wasn’t the type. And, truly, he’d never even thought about it until just now. Well, maybe he had thought about it a time or two. But not seriously. And what she’d said about his abs—that was Belle being her straightforward self, giving him a warning and letting him know, in her own way, he was going to get a lot of time with Michael. Yes, that’s what she’d meant. He was sure of it. Positive. Well, almost positive.

Still thinking about Belle as she lingered a moment to watch Michael’s game, he knew now what he’d always known—nobody compared. Nobody even came close. In fact, the skinny list of women he’d considered dating from time to time were either so boring, bland, or so inane, trite, or shallow he never got around to the asking-out stage. Truth was, he hadn’t dated because nobody seemed—well, like Belle. Not that he’d ever date her again, or do anything else with her, because he’d messed that up in the worst way a man could mess up the best thing in his life. But in a woman he needed personality and drive and, so far, he hadn’t found that in any way that suited him other than in Belle, and that didn’t count any more.

Which was fine, for now, as he wasn’t in any hurry to settle down again. Of course, some people, Belle specifically, would argue he’d never settled down in the first place. “Look,” he said, jumping into her path as she whooshed by him on her way out the door, “I don’t want to fight. OK? It seems like we’re always fighting, or just on the verge of it, and I don’t want us doing that.”

“Neither do I, but we’re so good at it,” she said, smiling. “I’d hate to give up on a good thing.”

He chuckled, in spite of himself. “That’s the thing I fell in love with, you know?”

“What?” she asked. “That I defend myself? That I stand up to you, face-to-face, and punch back?”

“Well, that could be part of the charm—for someone else. But what drew me to you was your fire. Just not so much of it. Anyway, that accusation a few minutes ago—it was a cheap shot. Totally uncalled-for, and I’m sorry. But sometimes—”

“Look, I do understand. It’s not easy being Michael’s dad, and it’s probably not easy being my ex—although I’m not sure why it isn’t, because I think I’m pretty easy to get along with.” This time her smile was a tease. “Anyway, I’ve got to make my house call and these ranch hands aren’t happy about it, so I just want to get out there and get it over with. Michael knows you’re going to spend the evening with him, and that I might be late. He understands. So …” She shrugged, then hurried out the restaurant door, leaving Cade to watch her until she climbed into her car and drove away.

Yep, she certainly had fire. And if he was not mistaken, the flames had shot up a notch or two since they’d divorced. It was not unattractive in her, he decided as he ambled over to Michael and watched him trounce the evildoers in his game. Trounce, like a pro.

Damn, if his kid wasn’t good at it! “So, Michael. Want to show me what you’re doing?”

Michael didn’t take his eyes off the screen, didn’t even miss a shot. “Um, no.”

The sting of that one word rocked him back a couple of steps. But that’s as far as he went. Then he stood his ground, the way Belle would, and watched his son accomplish the highest score ever achieved on that particular game machine without breaking a sweat. How the hell was he ever going to make the score with Michael, with or without sweat?

That was the question he’d been asking himself for years. It was also the question for which he couldn’t find an answer.

Then it hit him. Michael had called him Dad. Maybe prompted, maybe not. But—Dad. The most beautiful word he’d ever heard. So maybe there wasn’t an answer to his question, except patience. And time.

The big problem, though, was distance, and there was no way to get around that.

He looked so innocent sleeping. So beautiful. She’d always thought that. And in their last year together, after so much struggling, she’d thought it was a pity he didn’t sleep more often, because when he woke up, life changed. Fighting, bitterness—the emptiness of long, lonely hours by herself. Cade had caused her the kind of unhappiness she’d never thought would be part of her life. Yet she understood. Part of it came with his frustration over Michael. It hurt him, being ignored by a son he loved so deeply. But part of it was his absence, which was something she’d never understood and which, in retrospect, she wished she’d pursued with him until he’d explained it. His need, or lust, to leave had started mere weeks after they’d pronounced their vows, and had only got worse with time. She’d hoped it was a phase, some kind of life adjustment she just didn’t understand. But it hadn’t been, and when she’d asked him to explain, to help her understand, she’d been met with Cade’s characteristic wall of resistance. So after a while, being rebuffed every time she asked, she quit asking, essentially giving up as it was clear that she was moving forward with her life and her husband was moving away.

Oh, sure. Cade had his causes—causes she admired. Sadly, at the time, his family hadn’t seemed one of them. Maybe it was because she was strong and he’d believed she could hold things together in his absence. Maybe he found more satisfaction helping others than he did helping his family. All these years later she still didn’t know why. But now she didn’t dwell on it so much because her choice to move on without him, or get left behind, had been a good one.

Yet he still looked so innocent, sleeping. Like the man she’d fallen in love with all those years ago.

Belle smiled as she studied him. Michael looked so much like him. Same gray eyes, same dark brown hair, wavy with a little bit of curl. Same crooked smile. Except neither Michael nor Cade smiled much, which was a pity. Because it was a beautiful smile. One she’d wanted to capture in a family photo back when they’d been a family.

“It’s late,” Cade mumbled in his sleepy voice.

The sleepy voice—another thing she used to love. It was a little thick, a little gruff. “Going on to midnight.”

“Does it happen often?” he asked, propping himself up on one elbow.

“What? Me running around and leaving Michael here with a babysitter? Is that what you’re asking me, Cade? Do I neglect my son on a regular nightly basis?” She hadn’t meant to take offense, but sometimes Cade provoked that in her. Usually without much effort. Like now, when she was thinking about the things she’d planned with him—things she’d never have.

He stretched, sat up. Stretched again. “Actually, I wasn’t thinking about Michael. It’s you I was concerned about, being the only doctor for miles.”

“More like a hundred miles.” She backed off the anger immediately.

“Which doesn’t mean much, since it’s Texas miles, and there’s not much civilization from here to there.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to get so—”

“Defensive?” he asked.

She tossed her jacket over the back of the couch and stashed her medical bag in the coat closet on the top shelf. “That’s what we do to each other, isn’t it? Get defensive at first sight.” She turned to face him. “You were right earlier about not fighting. I don’t like being this way either, Cade. It gets easy to do, like a habit, and I don’t want Michael seeing it.”

“Then we’ll have to make sure we don’t.”

“Agreed. No more fighting,” she said, kicking off her shoes then dropping down into the overstuffed chair near the stairs. Said with a sly grin, “But clarify this for me, will you? Does the ban on fighting include low blows, subtle innuendoes, and casual jabs? And this means both of us, doesn’t it? It’s not like I have to quit fighting with you, but you still get to fight with me, is it?”

Cade chuckled. “You always came out swinging with the best of them. We did have our good moments, though, didn’t we?”

“Enough that I could probably count them on both hands.”

“OK, I’m going to count that as a casual jab, but it came damned close to being a low blow,” he warned her, smiling. “Which means you owe me.”

“There’s a penalty system connected to this truce? Do I need to have my lawyers go over the terms of the contract?” It was said with neither inflection nor expression.

“See, that’s the thing. Most people would take what you said as a serious comment because you don’t even crack a smile. But I know the sign, Belle.”

“What sign?”

“The arched left eyebrow.”

“I do not!” she said, feigning indignance.

“There it goes again, arching up, just for a split second. Subtle, but, oh, so readable.”

“OK, so maybe I underestimated the number of good moments we had together. Does that get me off the hook for the penalty?”

“Eyebrow up again. And no. You’re not off the hook.”

“Try collecting,” she challenged, shoving herself out of the chair and heading for the stairs.

This time it was Cade’s turn to arch an eyebrow.

It wasn’t the largest medical office, but it was modern—twenty years ago. Belle preferred to think of it as practical. She loved it, every last tongue depressor and cotton swab. She also loved the quaint little waiting room where non-communicable patients sat nearly knee to knee, and the ten-year-old TV was permanently on the rerun channel. On a positive note, Belle did make sure the magazine subscriptions were up-to-date, and the coffee in the coffee-pot was refreshed every hour. Oh, and tea for the tea-drinkers. A couple of her old-timer patients had suggested that a little additive to the tea and coffee would be nice, and she’d assumed whiskey. But she hadn’t dignified the hints with a response, and truly hoped her predecessor hadn’t indulged in the practice.

Today was a busy day, and her receptionist, Ellen Anderson, another employee inherited along with the practice, was nearly frantic answering the phone, serving drinks, and sorting through patient charts for insurance billing information. In Big Badger, it seemed like people required medical attention in droves. One day they trickled in, the next day they flocked. She couldn’t figure it out, and those she asked were pretty noncommittal on the subject. So this was a droves day, and Belle was ushering them in and out as fast as she could, given the nature of the various complaints.

“So, Mr. Biddle, you’ve had gout before?”

“Expect I did, Doctor. Some time last year, late in the spring, if I recall.”

“And did Dr. Nelson give you any specific instructions on how to take care of yourself?” Emmett Biddle’s gout was limited to his left big toe. “Diet, how much to drink, that sort of thing?”

“He did mention drinking water, I believe.”

Polite man, age seventy-nine. Sharp. Still a cowboy. In fact, he’d ridden in on his horse today. Tied it to the hitching post, which happened to come along with the medical office. Impractical, she’d thought at first, but Emmett Biddle wasn’t the first one to saddle up and come to an appointment on horseback. “And restrict or cut out your alcohol consumption?”

“Don’t recall that, ma’am.”

The twinkle in his eyes suggested otherwise. “Well, here’s what I’d like you to do. Drink eight to sixteen cups of fluid each day—half that has to be water, and the other half cannot be alcohol. In fact, avoid alcohol. Or limit it to one small drink a day if you have to have it. Eat a moderate amount of protein, preferably from healthy sources, such as low-fat or fat-free dairy—” She would have said “tofu” next, but there was no way Emmett Biddle was a tofu-eating kind of a man, so she skipped that. “Eggs and peanut butter are good, too. Also, limit your daily intake of meat, fish, and poultry to no more than six ounces.”

“Six ounces is only one big bite of steak, ma’am. What am I going to survive on if I can’t have my steak?”

“You can have it, just not as much.”

“Sissy portions,” Emmett grumbled as he slid off the table and picked up his cowboy boot, then bent down to tug it on. “Not fitting for a man to eat sissy portions.”

“You should probably try soft shoes, too, like a pair of athletic shoes.” Sandals worked, too, but she didn’t see Emmett in sandals. Texas men don’t wear sissy shoes, he’d probably tell her. “And here’s a prescription for an anti-inflammatory. Follow the directions on the bottle—one pill a day, with food.” But not steak, she wanted to say.

“It’ll help with the pain? ‘Cause it’s getting so I can barely walk. And getting up on my horse is kind of hard nowadays, too.”

“It will help, but if you don’t follow my advice, you’re going to keep on having trouble. And it could get worse.” She scribbled something in the chart, then opened the exam-room door. “I want to see you back here in two weeks. I’ll have another prescription for something you can take long term to help prevent the flare-ups. But nutrition, Mr. Biddle, plays an important part in controlling your gout.”

“My nutrition is fine, young lady. It’s kept me healthy seventy-nine years, with an occasional cold, and I’m not changing it for a toe ache.”

She hadn’t thought he would. Didn’t really blame him either. At his age Emmett deserved to do what he wanted. “Two weeks, Mr. Biddle. Don’t forget to make an appointment.”

She wasn’t sure what kind of noise he made on his way out, something between a grunt and a snort, but with a very clear message that she probably wouldn’t be seeing Emmett Biddle, once the medication worked, until his next flare-up.

“Gout?” Cade questioned. He was standing in the doorway to her private office, taking up most of the space within it.

An imposing figure of a man, Belle thought as she stopped short of squeezing by him. “Patient confidentiality,” she responded. “What do you want, Cade?”

He shrugged. “Just passing time until Michael’s out of school. Thought I’d stop by and see if you needed any help.”

“As in helping as a doctor?” Judging by his eyes, he seemed sincere enough. But Cade came within a hair’s breadth of loathing general practice. At least, he used to. “Is that what you’re offering?” she asked, not sure what to expect.

“If you need it. No pressure, though, Belle. I know this is your practice, and I’m sure you run it the way you see fit, but if you need help while I’m here—sure. I can do that when I’m not with Michael.”

That was a surprise. Cade seemed almost humble. Something new, in her experience. Admittedly, part of the initial Cade Carter charm had been his cockiness. She’d been attracted. But life had changed, their situations had changed, and his old cockiness didn’t work for her the way it once had. After she’d had Michael, she’d needed mellow and supportive. Almost what she was seeing now in Cade. “Well, I’m pretty busy most of the time. Between my practice and taking care of a number of ranches—house calls—it keeps me moving. But can you handle what you used to call mundane work, like gout?”

“Then it was gout. I thought so, by the way he limped.”

“That diagnosis coming from a surgeon?”

“We surgeons do come into contact with other medical problems from time to time.”

“And you surgeons, according to the surgeon I used to be married to, don’t particularly care to deal with anything non-surgical.” She took a step closer, taking care not to get too close. “So can you really handle this, Cade? Because I could use help. But I don’t want it to become an issue between us, since we already have enough of those going on.”

“How about split the work? You get more time with Michael, I still get my time with Michael. We all win. It’s not an issue, Belle.”

“Do you have cowboy boots with you?” He’d had them back in Chicago. He’d always joked something about taking the cowboy out of Texas but not taking Texas out of the cowboy. Suddenly she could picture those boots paired with some nice tight jeans and a T-shirt that hugged his abs. Rugged. All man. Probably not the way she should be thinking about her ex, though. Still …

“I never come to Texas without them.”

She smiled. “Well, go and put them on and I’ll put you to work.”

“The cowboy look. Is that for you, or for—?”

“For image, Cade. That’s all. Just for the image. Now move. I need to get into my office.”

With that, he tipped his imaginary hat, then stepped aside. “I don’t suppose you’ve ever given in to the boots, have you?”

Instead of answering, Belle simply shook her head. “When you get back, I’ll have three patients for you. Then we’re going to take a ride out to Ruda del Monte. We’ve got about a dozen hands there, with a few assorted other employees, and I have a contract to do physical exams on all of them. Thought maybe now that I have help, we could get started this afternoon.” She smiled. “You still up for it, Cade?”

“See you in twenty minutes, Belle,” he said, then spun around and swaggered away.

She couldn’t help watching that swagger until it turned the corner and disappeared. So, what was she doing, letting Cade work with her? It was crazy. She had huge misgivings. But she also had a modest case of tingles. And that’s what worried her the most. Especially as, for the past five years, she’d been under the impression she was impervious.

“What a nice young man, that Doc Cade is,” Mrs. Kitty Peabody commented as she stepped into the hall, preparing to leave the office. “I’m glad someone’s come to work with you. You needed the help. So is he your boss, dear?” she asked, blinking innocently as she looked up at Belle.

Belle bit the inside of her lips, trying hard to plaster some facsimile of a smile to her face. “No, he’s not my boss. He’s my—” No need to air the dirty family laundry. “He’s my temp. He’s in town on business for the next few weeks, and he needed a place to work, so I took him in.”

“That’s a casual jab, if ever I’ve heard one,” Cade whispered in Belle’s ear as he stepped up behind her. He turned to Mrs. Peabody. “We were married to each other, years ago. She had a hard time getting over me.”

“Definitely a low blow,” Belle said, out of the corner of her mouth.

“I can see why she would,” Mrs. Peabody said to Cade. “If I were fifty years younger …”

Cade stepped forward and wrapped his arm around the woman’s shoulder. “If you were fifty years younger, I’d be sitting on your front-porch swing right now—you do have a front-porch swing, don’t you, Mrs. Peabody?”

The old woman raised her fingertips to her lips and giggled. “No, but if you want to come visit, I’ll have my grandson hang one.”

“You tell me when it’s up, and I’ll be the one to take the maiden swing.” He shot a free and easy wink in Belle’s direction as he escorted the woman to the reception area, while Belle stood there, staring, amazed.

“Who are you?” she asked a minute later when Cade came ambling back down the hallway. “And what did you do with Cade Michael Carter?”

“I’m simply a doctor who’s trying to get along with his partner.”

“Except I’m not your partner, Cade.”

“That’s right. I’m your temp, the one who showed up on your doorstep, begging for work.”

Said with the biggest, brightest grin she’d seen since she’d, well, divorced him. “You’re different,” she commented, moving past him, on her way into the exam room to look after three-year-old Bonnie Thompson, a little girl who was prone to getting hives.

“In a good way?” he asked.

“Guess time will tell,” she said, grabbing Bonnie’s chart from the rack on the door then stepping into the exam room. Once inside, it took her a full ten seconds to find her focus before she turned into a doctor again. “So, Mrs. Thompson, did you make that list of foods, soaps, and things Bonnie commonly comes in contact with, and when, then note the time of her outbreaks?”

The girl’s mother shrugged. “That takes a lot of time, Doctor. I have three other children, and my husband is on the road half the time. I wanted to. Even bought a notebook, and started, but …”

She held the notebook out for Belle to see. First page, marked day one. No entry other than oatmeal, orange juice. Not much to go on. “Does Bonnie drink orange juice every day?” she asked, picking up the child’s arm to look at the red welts popping up below her elbow.

“Yes. In the morning. She loves it!”

“Bonnie,” Belle said, “will you pull up your shirt so I can look at your tummy?”

Bonnie obliged quickly, and Belle found exactly what she expected to find. More welts. The same with the child’s back and bottom. Not severe, not infected. But definitely hives that seemed to come and go at will. “For now, keep her off orange juice. And I know I’ve asked you to switch detergents, but this time I want you to double-wash Bonnie’s clothes separately, first in a detergent without fragrance or brighteners, then the second time in clear water.”

“Did I mention that I have three other children to take care of?” the woman asked, almost irately.

“You did, and I sympathize. But unless you want Bonnie to keep itching, we’re going to have to get aggressive about finding out what’s causing her allergy.”

“Dr. Nelson gave her pills,” Mrs. Thompson replied.

“And I’ve prescribed medication as well. But she can’t go on taking it forever. So I want to find the cause of the problem so we can avoid it altogether.”

“What about some kind of test? Wouldn’t that be better than guessing?”

Guessing often played a part in medical diagnosis but Mrs. Thompson didn’t want to hear that. Of course, Belle hadn’t wanted to hear guesses either when Michael had been undergoing his diagnosis. “The tests are expensive, Mrs. Thompson, and unless something has changed, you have no medical insurance. If you want to pay out of pocket, that’s fine. I’ll have Ellen schedule an appointment with an allergist. Or you can do it the way I’ve suggested, which may take a little longer but in most cases can give us the same diagnosis.” In the meantime, she didn’t have time to waste arguing with a mother who didn’t want the inconvenience of a little extra effort. It angered Belle. Really, truly angered her. Because if there was such an easy, simple fix for Michael, she’d be all over it in a second. No questions, no resentments, no holding back. But hives and Asperger’s were two entirely different things and, in most cases, hives could be cured.

“Why the scowl?” Cade asked, as he hung up his borrowed white coat.

Belle shrugged. “I guess I don’t get it sometimes. One of my patients, a little girl with an unspecified allergy, is getting hives. She’s not sick, they’re not causing her any problems, and I’m keeping them under control with a couple of different meds. But her mother—”

“Let me guess. Not a mother-of-the-year candidate.”

“She’s a good mother, but she doesn’t do enough. Seems put out when I give her suggestions. Wants an easier way out.”

“In other words, not up to your mothering standards?”

“I’m not an über-mom, if that’s what you’re getting at.” She handed her last patient chart to Ellen to file away, then picked up her medical bag, ready to hit the road. “But if there was something I could give to Michael to fix the problems he has, I’d move heaven and earth to give it a try.”

“I know you would,” Cade said, donning his cowboy hat then tipping the brim at Maudie, who practically melted when he followed it up with a wink. “But trust me. Not all mothers have that higher purpose. There are some mothers who weren’t meant to be. One of nature’s practical jokes, I think. But you’re the kind of mother every child should have.” Said in all sincerity. “The kind I wish …” His voice trailed off, and he ended the sentence with a sigh.

“Your flattery scares me, Cade,” Belle said, wondering where that comment had come from. And that sigh, as well as the look in Cade’s eyes when he’d made it—did she see sadness there?

“Then you’re out of practice,” Maudie quipped, breaking up the serious moment and clearly aligning with Cade as she scooted by on her way to the supply closet. “Because most people would be pleased with a compliment from someone like Dr. Carter.”

“Cade, please,” Cade said. “No need to stand on formalities here.”

For the second time Maudie almost melted. Her normally steely eyes turned mushy, and her thin lips unfolded into a generous smile. In fact, she was so smitten with the man she was nearly batting her eyelashes at him. Quite unlike anything Belle had ever witnessed in her office nurse until Cade. Now she was concerned. More than that, she was suspicious. What in the world was Cade up to, ingratiating himself that way in a place he didn’t need to ingratiate himself?

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