Chapter Eight
“W hat in the hell are you doing, Annabelle Walker?” Anna asked the question aloud as she sat in her new truck in a gravel lot high above the Ohio River. Instead of driving home from the building site after she’d helped Harper and Cam wax the last of the kitchen cabinets, she’d passed by Pearl Street and driven west on Main. Joe and Kara, who were loading plants into the back of his pickup, didn’t even notice her as she passed Sudbury’s Nursery and Garden Center, and she didn’t beep at them. Her truck seemed to have a mind of its own, driving out of town and slowing at Sunrise Ridge Road. She started to turn right, but instead, went left into the tourist overlook, parked, and shut off the engine.
She rubbed her face and raked her bangs back off her forehead, but they fell right down again. Yanking down the sun visor, she flipped open the lighted mirror and peered at her image in the small mirror. The day showed on her makeup-less face. She was tired and hungry, and she needed a shower. There was work waiting for her at home—blueprints for a new build up on Orchard Hill needed to be rechecked before she met with the homeowners tomorrow.
Why on earth was that silly dog on her mind? Why did she have the urge to check on it, er, her ? She blamed Sawyer. They’d finally exchanged phone numbers on Sunday, and he’d texted her pictures of Trixie every day since their bike ride. He’d even sent a little video of her stepping boldly from the patio into the grass and racing around the yard with the beagle in hot pursuit. Why didn’t she simply call Price’s Veterinary Clinic and ask? She didn’t need to drive all the way up here. Was it really the puppy who was tugging at her heartstrings or the vet? And if it was the vet, then why was she sitting across the highway from the turn-off like a junior-high schooler with a crush on the football hero or worse, a creepy stalker? She was a grown woman of damn near forty. She didn’t have to play silly games. She could drive up to the clinic, walk in the door, and say hello. Yes. She could certainly do that. But she had to confess, she also wanted to see the little puppy. Just to make sure she was doing okay.
She pressed the ignition button, bringing the engine to life as she squared her shoulders, backed out of the parking spot, and sped across the highway before she could change her mind. His old truck was parked down at the end of the lot, so she parked next to it. The clinic hours indicated that they were closing in twenty minutes, but there was no one in the waiting room when she opened the door and stepped inside.
Avery looked up from her computer. “Hi, Anna. You here to see Trixie? I think she’s missed you.”
Suddenly, all the pluck Annabelle had worked up in the truck abandoned her and she simply stared at the perky receptionist for a few seconds. “I, um, I…um… Can you tell me how much Trixie’s bill is so far, please?”
Avery gave her a sunny smile. “Oh, sure. Let me pull that up.”
What am I doing? Anna flinched inwardly. I don’t want to pay that puppy’s vet bill.
Avery named a figure that nearly set Anna back on her heels, but she was committed now. She couldn’t very well simply say thanks and walk back out. So, she reached in her purse and pulled a credit card out of her wallet. “Do you take this?”
“Yup.” Avery turned the point-of-sale screen to Anna. “Just tap and sign.” Anna did. “Printed receipt or email?” Avery offered as she hovered a hand over the screen.
“Email’s fine.” Anna recited her email address and tucked the card, which looked a little scorched, back in her wallet. It would’ve been a lot cheaper—and more genuine—to simply ask for Sawyer.
“We moved her into boarding. You can go back and see her if you like.” Avery opened the gate and led the way. “I think Travis has them out in the yard.” She opened the door to the patio and there was tiny Trixie, frolicking in the grass with three other dogs who all seemed huge next to her.
“Hey, Ms. Walker!” Travis waved and nabbed Trixie as she zipped past him. “Look who’s here, Trixie.” He carried her over and before Anna could say a word plopped the dog into her arms.
Trixie gave her a startled look—that double-colored eye squinting for a second before she greeted Anna with a chin lick and burrowed against her neck.
“I think she’s missed you.” Travis grinned as the other dogs congregated around them, weaving in and out between their legs. Anna sucked in a breath when a huge dog—maybe a Great Dane—put its paws on her shoulder and nosed at Trixie in her arms.
“Sven! Get down!” A firm voice from the door made her turn around, and there was Sawyer, his blue scrubs wrinkled, his brown hair tousled, and a stethoscope hanging around his neck. “Hello there.” The dog obeyed, dropping to all fours immediately and looking rather sheepish, almost as if it realized it had forgotten its manners.
Anna’s heart lifted at Sawyer’s tired but welcoming smile. “Just thought I’d stop by and check on Trixie.”
“She’s missed you.” He wandered over to stroke between Trixie’s ears, and even though he’d been with animals all day, she could still smell the crisp citrus scent of his soap.
“That’s what everyone keeps telling me.” Anna set the puppy up on her shoulder to keep her from nuzzling and licking her face. “Did she tell y’all that?”
He chuckled. “Yup. Last night after I put her to bed, she said, Where’s Anna, doesn’t she love me anymore? ” He spoke in a whispery falsetto and included a quick bark as he pulled out two chairs and inclined his head for her to join him.
Laughing, she obliged, taking the chair that faced west to let the setting sun warm her face and arm while she cuddled a now-sleepy Trixie on her shoulder. The puppy’s warm breath wasn’t stinky at all, which surprised her. “Why doesn’t she have dog breath? She smells like…is that spearmint?”
Sawyer chuckled. “We give them dental chews. They have brown rice and other natural things, including spearmint. Trixie loves hers and it’s also teaching her what’s okay to chew on and what’s not okay.”
Anna snickered. “Is she teething?”
“You laugh, but yes, she is. Puppies chew on everything for lots of good reasons and one is that between three and seven months, they are teething like a human baby. They also chew because they’re bored or anxious. And it’s their way to explore their environment—sniffing, tasting…” He held up his hands, fingers wide apart. “No opposable thumbs, so they can’t pick stuff up to see what it is.” The Great Dane came up to him and shoved its giant head into his hands. “Isn’t that right, Sven, old man?” He rubbed the dog’s face and scratched around its long ears while the dog looked like he’d gone to heaven.
“I think she’s asleep.” Anna pressed her cheek against Trixie’s warm furry back, feeling the rapid beat of her heart. “Her heartbeat is so fast.”
Sawyer nodded as he released Sven to go back out in the yard. “Go play, boy.” The dog bounded off, apparently content with the cuddles he’d received. “Puppies’ heart rates are much faster than humans—about 120 to 160 beats per minute is normal.” He gazed at them, clear affection in his chocolatey eyes. “She really seems taken with you.”
“ Taken with me?” Anna loved how he used old-fashioned terms now and again. It was…charming. He was charming.
The dimple showed. “We both are.” He stood up. “Hang out all you want. I have to go see a horse for John. He’s busy with some sick cows north of town. The mare is older, and the pregnancy’s been tricky, so I told him I’d go out and check on her after hours today.” He headed for the door, then stopped and turned around, suddenly seeming very shy. “Wanna come?”
Anna surprised both of them with, “Okay, sure.”
*
He’d made the invitation spontaneously, certain she’d decline, so when she accepted, Sawyer was shocked but delighted. They helped Travis put the boarders away, with Anna carrying Trixie on her shoulder and setting her carefully in the crate. He smiled as she bunched the fleece blanket up the way the puppy liked it. She remembered, which meant she’d been thinking about the dog and thus, maybe about him too. Travis would feed them all around seven and take them out again.
Trixie whined a little as Anna closed the crate, and she hesitated over locking it. “She’s crying. Should I stay here with her?”
He lifted one shoulder. “You can, but you don’t really want to teach her that.”
“Teach her what?”
“That if she whimpers, you’ll take her back out of the crate. It’s her home. You want her to like being in it and not fuss when you leave.”
“What should I do?”
“Just close the door and tell her you’ll see her later.” He locked Sven’s giant crate and went over to the cupboard to get some bacon treats. “Give her one of these, tell she’s good, and let’s go.”
“That feels so mean.” Anna slipped the little biscuit between the grate. Trixie took it in her teeth but dropped it and whined again. “Look at her.”
“She’s playing you, Anna.” Sawyer handed the bag of treats to Travis to pass out to the others. “Say good-bye.”
She winced but told the puppy good-bye and followed him out the door and down the hall, trying to ignore Trixie’s little whimpers. At the front desk, Avery had left for the day, and Mindy and Dawn were clocking out on their phones.
“Travis is on night shift tonight, so you two have a good evening. See you in the morning,” he said and checked his phone for tomorrow’s calendar of appointments that Avery had forwarded to him. “Hey, Min, your favorite kitty is coming in tomorrow for his yearly.”
“Chairman Meow?” Mindy grinned and gave him a thumbs-up. “Cool!”
“That’s my brother’s cat,” Anna said standing on tiptoe to peer over his shoulder. “Misty, too?”
“All I see on here is the one.” He held out his phone to her.
“Misty’s not due ’til December,” Mindy offered from the door and disappeared into the dusk.
Sawyer zipped back down the hall to let Travis know they were heading out and to remind him to set up the autoclave, then hurried back to Anna who was looking at the bulletin board by the door.
“Lotta pets need homes.” She pointed to the board where there were index cards with offers of kittens and puppies, rabbits, mice, hamsters, and guinea pigs. One card posted was looking for a pony for a little girl and a couple more were in search of baby goats and a baby pig. She pointed to the cards requesting animals. “4-H, do you think?”
“Likely.” He nodded. “John says we see a lot of 4-H critters here.”
“I imagine.” She gave him a wry smile as they walked out into the cool April evening. “I started in 4-H when I was ten—chocolate chip cookies.”
“How’d you do?” He opened the passenger door on his truck for her, and once again, she appeared startled by the gesture.
But she merely said, “Thank you,” slid in and drew her long jeans-clad legs into the cab. Damn, she had nice legs. Long and shapely in the snug jeans—not skinny. It would be nice to see her in shorts this summer.
He hopped in, put the key in the ignition, and buckled up, debating. May as well keep it honest between us . He wanted her to know he was interested. “It’s good to see you, Anna.”
Rosy color filled her cheeks as she glanced up from clipping her seatbelt. “You, too. I got a green ribbon for participating. The judges said the cookies were too salty.”
“Did you try something else the next summer?”
“Pineapple upside down cake, and I made an apron with pockets and a ruffle.”
He couldn’t help it, he laughed. It was the picture of her baking a cake in a ruffled apron. “Somehow cake and a ruffled apron don’t fit the image of you I’ve been building in my head.”
She cast a quick frown in his direction, but didn’t react to the comment. “Well, I got a red ribbon on the cake. Exactly the right amount of salt apparently, but they felt it lacked blue-ribbon excellence in the appearance category.” She chuckled. “The pineapple rings were crooked.”
“We can’t have crooked pineapple rings, can we?” he teased.
“Not in 4-H.” She fidgeted with her long braid. “That was my last year doing domestic science in 4-H. I switched to arts and crafts—drawing. Until I discovered boys my freshman year. Cam showed his woodworking all the way through high school, though, and Joe still enters his veggies in the county fair every year. He grows beautiful tomatoes.” She was rambling, obviously nervous, which made him a little nervous, too.
He wanted to ask her if she still had the apron because his imagination was going a little crazy picturing her clad in a ruffled apron and not much else. Cool it, Braxton. The chances of that happening are damn slim. Hasn’t she already told you she’s not interested in dating? But why was she here with him now and why had she agreed to dinner on Friday? Instead, he said, “May I ask you a question?”
“As long as it doesn’t involve 4-H or my awkward early teens. I was taller than nearly every boy at River’s Edge Junior High. It was pretty sucky.”
“If you don’t want to date me, why did you come by the clinic and why are you here now and why did you say you’d have dinner with me on Friday? It all feels like dating to me.”
“That felt more like three questions to me.” She was deflecting, but he ignored it and persisted.
“Why?” He glanced at his phone attached to the dash with a spring-loaded holder. The turn to the Morrow farm was in another quarter mile.
Anna released a long breath. “I was wondering about Trixie,” she said finally.
“You could’ve called or texted something besides cutie pie when I sent the pictures.” He side-eyed her.
She was staring at the road ahead, her teeth worrying her lower lip. He was making her uncomfortable, but if his dad, the psychiatrist and med school professor, taught him nothing else, it was to always be straightforward. No dissembling. If you want to know something, ask. Look honestly at yourself and others, but don’t judge. Answer truthfully, but kindly.
It would have been nice if his parents had followed Dad’s advice when he told them he was leaving the vet school to join a small veterinary practice down on the Ohio River, but their reactions shouldn’t have surprised them. Huck and Phoebe were academics; he was just a guy who loved animals. And he’d given it his best shot, he truly had. One day, they’d believe that.
Another sigh came from the passenger seat as he made the turn into the road leading to the horse farm. About a half mile up the road, a sign announced Windstar Farm: Horse Boarding and Riding Academy , and he followed the curved drive, still waiting for Anna’s response.
He pulled around to a huge white barn that appeared freshly painted, parked, and turned toward her, one arm on the steering wheel. “Well?”
“I like you, okay? I’m curious about you.”
He didn’t want to grin because she looked so forlorn at the admission, but he couldn’t stop his lips from curving up. “And that’s a bad thing because…”
“I told you I don’t want to date.”
“Yet, here we are.” He kept his tone kind and quiet.
She nodded. “Here we are.”
A man appeared in the wide doorway of the barn, his hands on his hips, a sweat-stained cowboy hat shoved back on his head. Talk about bad timing—his, not the cowboy’s. This wasn’t the time for the conversation he wanted to have with Anna.
So, he released his seatbelt. “Come on, you can watch me palpate a mare. We’ll continue this later.”
The cowboy’s eyes widened as Sawyer and Anna walked up together. “Anna!” He grabbed her and swung her around. “What are you doing here? Have you changed careers on me?”
“Hiya, Tuff.” Ann returned the hug. “It’s good to see you. I’m just along for the ride today.” She eyed him up and down. “You look great!”
Sawyer agreed—the guy was in his mid-thirties, and Grandma Braxton would’ve said he was built like a brick outhouse . His denim barn jacket didn’t hide his broad shoulders or firm muscled chest that pulled against a Henley with Windstar Farm embroidered around a horse’s head on the pocket. His brown hair was cut short under the hat, and his clear blue eyes twinkled as he tweaked Anna’s braid.
“Clean living.” The man tugged off a worn leather work glove and extended his hand to Sawyer. “Ryan Tuffington, farm manager, horse trainer, riding instructor, stall picker, and I think, in the near future, I’m going to add equine midwife to that list.”
Anna laughed and explained, “Tuff was in Joe’s class in high school—big football hero.”
The man gave her a quirked brow. “I’m not using Tuff anymore, just plain Ryan. And the football hero is behind me, too. I’m here now, working with Trudy.”
An unspoken message seemed to be passing between him and Anna because after a moment she said, “That’s great, Ryan. I remember watching you ride rodeo back in 4-H.” She turned to Sawyer. “He was good.”
Sawyer transferred his canvas vet bag from his right hand to his left and shook with Ryan. “Nice to meet you. Sawyer Braxton.”
“Doc said he was sending the new guy out to check on Spring.”
“That’s me.” Sawyer peered into the barn, well-lit with a row of hanging LED fixtures despite the setting sun showing through the open doors at the other end.
“She’s in her stall, but I can put her in the crossties if you’d rather.” Ryan led the way down the wide center aisle that was raked clean and tidy. Each stall had a name plaque and a trunk outside of it, and as Sawyer gazed up at the high ceiling, he couldn’t see a single cobweb. Someone kept this barn immaculate. A wheelbarrow full of manure and sawdust was beside one stall—clearly Ryan had been cleaning.
“Let me check her in the stall where she’s comfortable.”
“You bet.”
They stopped at a stall midway down the row where a heavy-bellied mare stood calmly munching sweet-smelling alfalfa hay. She looked peaceful, not sluggish, and her eyes were big, soft, and alert.
“Hello, mama.” Sawyer stepped inside the stall, keeping to the wall until the mare could see him. Then he set his bag down and slowly moved toward her, talking softly.
Anna stood quietly outside the open stall door with Ryan while Sawyer blew a light breath into Spring’s nostril and stroked her neck. Although focused on the mare, he heard Anna ask, “Why is he blowing on her nose?”
“He’s saying hello. It’s how horses greet each other. We do it to let them know we mean them no harm,” Ryan said.
“Exactly,” Sawyer agreed and ran his hands over the mare’s round belly. She’d dropped and her udder had distended, but her teats hadn’t filled yet. He continued moving and stroking, past her behind, to the other side, checking under her tail after he got around. She appeared to be about two to three weeks from delivery. “I’m going to check her. Ryan, you want to come in and stand at her head?”
He pulled a shoulder-length vinyl glove from his coat pocket and slipped it on, lifted the horse’s tail, and as he reached inside, he heard Anna’s quick intake of breath. When he looked up, she was gone.
Up by Spring’s head, Ryan chuckled and murmured to the mare, “Some folks can’t take it, can they, Spring?”