Page 33 of The Secrets We Built Together

I retched dramatically, and Booker cackled with evil delight.

"Are you in love, little brother?" he asked when he finally stopped laughing.

I realized I'd pulled my phone out of my pocket again, checking for a message that wasn't there. I shoved it deliberately back into my pocket, my face heating. If only Booker knew about what I’d actually got myself into.

"What? No! I'm just—it's work. I'm expecting a call about... equipment. For the clinic." The lie sounded pathetic even to my own ears.

Booker clearly wasn't buying it either. I started spluttering further denials as a high-pitched whistle of panic started in my head. There was no way. No way I was falling for Blake Mitchell, of all people. The woman who'd spent the last few months making me blush and stammer with her outrageous comments. The woman who challenged everything I said and had opinions about everything I did.

The woman who'd felt so right in my arms when she cried.

She was a friend in need. The interest I had in her was merely one person who found another intriguing. Love was a word that didn’t fit anywhere near a picture that had me and Blake in it.

Booker laughed again and shoved his good hand in his pockets as he frowned at the cast then turned to leave. "Your appointment is here, by the way," he called over his shoulder. “And we hired an assistant for a reason, Xander. So I didn’t have to keep doing it all the damn time.”

I scowled after my brother as I tried not to smile. It was good to see Booker happy, even if he was out of his mind. The ranch accident that had nearly cost him his life had been a wake-up call for all of us. He'd been pushing himself too hard, trying to prove something that none of us needed proved. Now, with Reece in his life, he seemed to have found a balance I envied, and a happiness I'd never seen in him before.

I smoothed my shirt and took a deep breath, trying to pull myself together before meeting my appointment. Billie Schulster was waiting in the living room, her petite frame making Booker's over-sized leather chair look even more massive. Her long blonde hair was pulled back in a neat ponytail, and she stood when I entered, her bright blue eyes lighting up with recognition.

"Xander Farrington," she said, extending her hand. "You grew up."

"Billie." I grinned, taking her hand. "So did you."

I'd known Billie most of my life. She'd been in the same grade as my brother Gage at school, and the two of them had been inseparable. Best friends from kindergarten through high school, prompting years of teasing from me and my other brothers. She was petite and, though I'd never make the mistake of saying it to her face, cute as a button. But she was also feisty as hell, which I knew she was going to need for the position I was considering her for.

"Thanks for meeting me here," I said, gesturing for her to sit back down as I took the chair opposite. "The clinic space isn't quite ready yet, so we're making do with the house for now."

"No problem," she said, crossing one leg over the other. "Gave me a chance to see what Booker's done with the place. It's impressive."

"He's done good," I agreed. "So, let's talk about why you're here."

I went through the steps of giving her a proper interview for the position of senior physiotherapist at the clinic, despite knowing her since we were kids. The rehab center would be at the ranch, focusing on helping people recover from injuries and surgeries through not just traditional medicinal rehabilitation but through animal therapy with the horses Booker rescued as well. It was the heart of what Booker wanted to achieve at the ranch. We'd also need a mental health professional on board as well and I had a few promising candidates in mind already.

As we talked, Billie's passion for the project became more and more evident. She'd spent the last four years working at a major hospital in Seattle, but she spoke about returning to Willowbrook with a warmth that I understood all too well. The pull of home, even when you thought you'd escaped it for good.

"Your experience with sports injuries is impressive," I said, looking over her resume. "And the pediatric work—that's exactly what we need."

"Kids bounce back faster than adults," she said with a grin. "But they need someone who won't let them slack off just because they're cute."

I laughed, knowing she was exactly right. "Well, I don't think I need to drag this out any longer. The job is yours if you want it."

Her face lit up. "Seriously? Just like that?"

"Just like that. Are you ready to start straight away?"

She frowned slightly, confused. "But the ranch isn't up and running yet for clients, is it?"

I smiled, unable to keep the mischief from my voice. "Booker is going to be your first patient. He broke his arm in a ranch accident and is about to come out of his cast. He'll need extensive PT to regain full function, even if he doesn't think so."

"Talk about trial by fire," Billie grumbled playfully, but I could tell she was already mentally putting together a treatment plan.

"If you want my advice, get Reece to tell him what to do. He can't say no to her."

Billie smiled. "She's good for him. He seems... lighter."

"Speaking of the clinic," I said, pulling out a folder from the stack on the desk, "I wanted to get your thoughts on the timeline we're looking at. We’re already booked out for the first year after opening and we’re having to consider extensions earlier than we anticipated."

Billie took the folder, her eyebrows rising as she flipped through the pages. "Xander, this is... ambitious, to say the least. You're planning to be fully operational in less than two months?"

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