40. Josephine
CHAPTER FORTY
Josephine
By Thursday afternoon, Buckhorn has decided my personal life belongs to the public. I should've known that was coming.
We sit outside the Rusty Mug beneath a faded red umbrella that does very little to block the August heat. Lunch crowds drift in and out around us while traffic crawls slowly along Main Street.
"So," Penny says, "how are things with Clay?"
“The last few days have been good… better than good.”
They've felt easy in a way I never expected.
Clay texts throughout the day, checking whether I've eaten lunch, asking about appointments at the clinic, and sending updates about whatever mess Nash has created at the dude ranch.
Penny watches me over the rim of her drink. "You seem happier."
The observation settles quietly between us.
Because I am happier.
That doesn't mean I'm completely relaxed.
Every good day seems to arrive with a fresh worry tucked behind it.
What if this changes? What if he wakes up one morning missing the road, the rodeos, the freedom to leave whenever he wants?
I already know the rodeo is reaching out to him, trying to pull him back in.
I saw the calls he ignored from Brandon.
The fear never fully disappears; it simply retreats far enough into the background that I can ignore it for a while.
"I think I'm waiting for something to go wrong," I admit.
Penny nods slowly. "That's fair."
I glance up. "You're not going to tell me I'm being ridiculous?"
"No."
Penny picks at the wrapper around her straw. "People don't stop being scared just because good things happen."
I blink.
There's no teasing in her expression.
"Then what am I supposed to do?"
She shrugs. "Want to know what everybody else sees?"
I follow her gaze. "What?"
"A man who's spent the last week acting like somebody handed him the winning lottery ticket."
Heat creeps into my cheeks. "Penny."
"I'm serious."
"You barely see him."
"I see him plenty."
That is unfortunately true; Buckhorn isn't large enough to hide in.
She grins. "Yesterday your cowboy wandered into the general store and bought baby books."
I stare at her. "He bought what?"
"Baby books."
A laugh escapes before I can stop it.
The image is so absurdly sweet that my chest aches.
Penny points triumphantly. "There it is."
"What?"
"That smile."
I hate how pleased she looks. "You're impossible."
"Thank you."
The afternoon passes quickly after that.
Back at the clinic, appointments keep me occupied: a golden retriever with an ear infection, a nervous mare, and another goat determined to consume part of my paperwork.
A fairly standard afternoon.
I'm finishing notes at the front desk when an older rancher named Harold Sutton appears carrying a cat crate.
The cat inside looks offended by the entire concept of being alive.
Harold sets the carrier down. "Afternoon, Doc."
"Afternoon."
The cat hisses.
Harold nods toward the examination room. "Same issue as last time."
"Let's have a look."
As I reach for the carrier, Harold squints at me.
Then he narrows his eyes even further, which somehow feels worse.
"You one of those McCoy girls now?"
I nearly drop the latch. "What?"
Harold gestures vaguely. "You and Clay."
My entire face heats.
Across the room, Dr. Harris immediately develops a sudden interest in filing cabinets.
Traitor.
Harold continues before I can answer. "Saw you two at the lake."
Of course he did.
Apparently, privacy is no longer available in Buckhorn.
"We're just…"
I stop.
Because I don't actually know how to finish it. Dating, building something, falling in love.
All of those feel dangerous.
Harold nods as though I've confirmed everything. "Good."
I blink. "Good?"
"Kid's been grinning so much lately it's starting to concern people."
The simple statement catches me completely off guard.
Harold shrugs. "About time."
He picks up the cat carrier again, and I follow him into the examination room, still trying to process what he said.
Dr. Harris chooses that moment to walk past. "Interesting conversation."
I shake my head as I open the carrier, though Harold's words linger.
Kid's been grinning so much lately…
I've noticed it too. Clay smiles more easily now, talks about the future without changing the subject, and seems more settled every time I see him.
By the time I finish work, the clinic parking lot is mostly empty. The sun hangs low in the sky, casting long shadows across the gravel. I gather my bag and step outside. Then stop.
Clay's truck is parked near the entrance.
The driver's door opens, and he climbs out carefully, still favoring his leg slightly. The expression on his face makes me suspicious. Very suspicious.
I walk toward him. "What's that look?"
"What look?"
"The one that says you're planning something."
His grin widens, confirming every suspicion I've got.
I fold my arms. "Clay."
He steps closer. "You trust me?"
My answer comes easier than it would've a few weeks ago. "Yes."
The warmth that flashes through his eyes almost steals my breath. "Good."
I narrow my eyes. "That wasn't enough information."
"Get in the truck, Doc."
I stare at him. He answers with a smile that says he's enjoying this far too much.
Despite my curiosity, despite my growing suspicion that this surprise involves far more planning than he's admitting, I find myself smiling back.
Whatever he's about to show me, he's excited about it, and lately I've discovered that watching Clay look forward to the future is one of my favorite things.
"Fine," I say.
His grin turns victorious. "Excellent."