Her Four Cowboys

She blinked up at me. “That’s beautiful.”

I held her gaze for a second before she looked back down at her screen. “Maybe Albert should write a philosophical treatise for ranchers. I think a lot of people would read it.”

I snorted. “Really?”

“Well, the ones who’re deserving of their animals would,” she said, and I laughed.

She did too, and we settled into a comfortable silence as she continued to examine Briar, checking her for any signs of infection or internal injuries that she might’ve missed. I was content to observe her as I made sure that Briar stayed settled in place and wasn’t startled at any of the necessary prodding that Lucy had to do to ensure that all was well.

Once more, I was amazed by the surety and confidence of her technique, particularly when paired with the compassion in her hands, her voice… that seemed to drip from every one of her actions.

“Okay,” she said as she set the ultrasound machine down and brought her hand up to run through her hair. “Everything looks great with her. Her incisions are healing cleanly, and she’s not showing any signs of infection or abscess at the surgical sites, which is a great sign, considering we don’t know what attacked her. She’s also not showing any signs of lasting injuries to her internal organs, which is great considering I couldn’t really do more than a topical exam the last time. For the time being, just keep her on the antibiotic regimen that I’ve prescribed so that we can make sure her incisions close without infection. And I have some ointment that I’ve brought with me to ensure that her scars don’t get irritated, and also so she doesn’t try to bite them.”

“Perfect,” I said, taking the box that she handed me before I slumped against the wall in relaxation. “Thank you for everything, Lucy. Seriously. I couldn’t ask for anyone to take better care of her.”

“It’s not a problem,” she said, pulling her hair out of her ponytail and bending over to retie it. I was distracted for a second by the view of her stunning, perfect neck, and the way her hair swished over it so gracefully. “Really. You don’t have to thank me.”

“I do, though.” I went over the possibilities in my mind, and suddenly I knew what I needed to do. “Let me take you to Spurs tonight. I’ll by the beers, and we can dork out over animals.”

She bit down hard on her lip. “Really, it’s not necessary.”

“I feel it is,” I said. “Please, Luce. You saved her. Let me just be grateful for a minute.”

She looked at me for a second before nodding. “All right. You were my last call of the day, so just let me head home and get presentable before I go to the bar.”

I looked her up and down, the irrepressible need to tease her burgeoning onto my lips. “What’re gonna do? Change your plaid?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Well, yes, actually. But not my jeans. You don’t rate clean jeans.”

We both burst out laughing at that.

“Of course, you like Stella Artois.”

“What’s wrong with Stella?”

“Nothing. It’s just fancy,” I said, wiggling my eyebrows at her as we sat in Spurs a few hours later. We were each on our third drink, and I was amazed by how easy it was to be around her. To talk and laugh the way I would with any of my best friends.

I’d definitely never found laughter this easy with Katie. No, the laughter had never really felt like a priority with her. It was more like there was a pressure there to maintain her and her happiness at all costs. And my own happiness was the bare minimum she’d felt should be sacrificed in the balance.

“I liked what you said before,” she said, bringing me out of my moody reverie, “about your dad and reinforcing responsibilities. Is that why you’ve all given the ranch your all the way you have?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Dad always encouraged us to take what we were born with and make it into something that we could use to make the lives of our horses better. For Aaron, that’s his overall care. He’s a protector. For Adam, it’s his heart and the way he manages to figure out his way through any problem we have.”

“What about Andy, though?” she asked. “How does being a writer fit into the ranch life?”

“He’s an incredible writer, but he has so many other creative talents,” I said. “You should see the furniture he makes. I know he’s sacrificed a lot, but he makes life better and more comfortable for our horses.”

“And then there’s you,” she said, raising her eyebrows at me, “and all your inclinations.”

I laughed. “You know, you’re actually pretty fun to hang out with.”

“Are you telling me that you’re surprised by that?”