“Hi, Skylar. I, uh, know we got off on the wrong foot. But, uh, it seems my dog’s jacked up his paw somehow. Chewin’ it raw. Eugene Lopez says you’re the best vet around…”
Was he fishing to see her again? Or did his dog really have an injured paw? And why did this excite her when she’d woken up resolved to never see him again? Just the sound of his voice, rolling over her eardrums, doused the unease with…what, she couldn’t label the sensation. “Just, uh, hoping you can take a look at my dog.”
She would be at the clinic for the cat.
“Oh, this is Travis.”
An unexpected smile touched her lips. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say he sounded nervous. Why?
She wouldn’t turn his dog away. Wouldn’t turn him away. Dammit, after everything, she felt her resolve already crumbling like a toddler’s block tower. Her thumb hovered over the Call Back button. Ugh, what should she say if he answered? What equally awkward message would she leave on his voicemail if he didn’t? Should she refer him to another veterinarian?
No, she’d call him back at her clinic when she had her professional hat on.
She turned Patches’s reins and tapped her belly, trotting back up the path to return home, eagerness to hit the road speeding up into a canter with each pound of the hoof as her body remembered that sandalwood scent and the feel of his sculpted arms cradling her unyieldingly, the heat of his eyes perusing her shape, the drawl to his voice when he told her he was sure she didn’t know what he was thinking. Beautiful, dark, shimmering eyes; electrifying touch. Infuriating. It wasn’t fair—that he could spark such urgency within her at a mere phone call, that he could hold such physical power over her body’s reaction to him, to this day.
“Hey, Jasper,” she called as she arrived back at the barn, slowing Patches to a walk. “Gonna hit the road!”
She dismounted and walked the mare into the barn to unsaddle her.
“Mornin’, Doolittle!” he teased, right on cue, his smile hidden behind the salt-and-pepper mustache thick enough to put Sam Elliot’s to shame. She grinned, a weird twist of excitement in her step. Half of Hudspeth County called her that, thanks to that article about rescue horses. Jasper took the reins. “I’ll untack Patches so you can hit the road and be on time for clinic. Brandon’s in good hands. I got a whole day of labor planned out,” he called out now to wherever Brandon was lurking, “throwin’ bales, mending fences. Hmph, dislocated shoulder… We called that a massage back in my day!”
“Whatever,” mumbled Brandon from the depths of the barn as Jasper grunted a husky laugh, getting the reaction he’d wanted.
Such a dad. He loved kids and loved being Brandon’s crotchety surrogate grandpa, too.
Skylar rolled her eyes. “Seriously, though. I should be back before noon unless something happens. Which, given this week’s track record, I wouldn’t be surprised if it started raining cattle.”
“She ran into her ex-boyfriend at the hospital,” Brandon muttered, emerging from the storeroom with a handful of horse cookies.
Jasper’s eyes widened and he smoothed his mustache. “Is that so. I didn’t think you dated.”
“She fainted,” Brandon added.
Skylar pinched the bridge of her nose, fumbling to keep from dropping her charts. “Brandon… It’s nothing, Jasper,” she added.
“If you say so.” Jasper was so not convinced by her exasperated tone as he took up the reins to walk Patches into the crossties.
Brandon gave her a shrug to say What’s up or Yes or Whatever as he walked past her. It was hard to tell what the shrug meant. At least he’d acknowledged her. He clenched that small drawstring backpack he’d been holding ever since getting home from his hospital visit the night before. It was folded on itself, dirty around the grommets. The one time she’d asked what was in it, he’d refused to tell.
“Jasper’s got work to do on a well pump. You can tag along to the back eighty,” she said.
“You mean he’s gonna babysit me,” Brandon mumbled, shuffling to Handsome and palming a treat to the gelding’s mouth while he stroked his forehead. He really was good with the horses. “Did you get the obligatory Anita approval for that?”
She inhaled heavily, let it out slowly, staving off the urge to rub her eyes at his go-to phrase for anything that required permission from his foster care worker.
“You still don’t trust me here alone,” Brandon continued. “Think I’m gonna steal from you, too.”
She wouldn’t dignify the remark with a response. Nothing had gone missing since he’d moved in. He was testing her, like he tested everyone.
“Keep the sling on today so there’s no reason to miss your Rangers game tomorrow—”
“My arm feels fine,” Brandon grumbled.
She resisted another hard inhale and exhale.
“Dr. Dixon said at least one week in the sling.” Just saying his name without her lips twisting on the sour tones was deserving of her own commendation medal.
Hot doctor with a callused heart.