Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Jude
I don’t know what you want from me.
I’d typed and deleted the text to Carson so many times that even my phone was sick of me.
And I needed to stop messing with the phone and get on with my morning, which included a follow-up visit at Second Chance Ranch.
Tired of the quiet, I flipped on the radio, which landed on a country station from the last time Carson had been in the truck.
Fuck. I missed him.
Carson said he’d come out if I wanted him to, which was a hell of a lot of pressure.
We were friends, and for once, benefits hadn’t destroyed the friendship.
If anything, we were stronger friends after the sex.
Wouldn’t dating increase the chances of a messy ending and a ruined friendship?
Carson was willing to find out what he might want in terms of something more, but I wasn’t sure I had the same courage.
In fact, I was pretty certain I was running scared. Neither of us had texted for a few days, nor had I invited him over. I was the worst kind of coward, and I was likely tanking the same friendship I wanted to protect at all costs.
You’re being ridiculous. I was inching toward forty, a respected professional by all measures, and I could manage a simple conversation.
Resolved, I parked at the ranch and headed to the horse barn to follow up with Kat on Forest’s condition.
However, when I entered the barn, Carson was nowhere to be seen.
“You’ve got a terrible poker face, Doc.” Kat gave a rusty chuckle as she led me to Forest’s stall. “Your favorite ranch hand is with his brother today for a doctor’s appointment.”
“Ah.” I wasn’t sure whether I was relieved or disappointed.
I didn’t bother arguing with Kat over Carson being my favorite hand either.
No point in adding to whatever suspicions she was harboring.
Instead, I focused on the horse and reviewing the lab work with Kat, so I could get on to my next call.
After Forest’s appointment, I was due at the Giffords, an older couple who’d known my parents.
Like my folks, Ed and Priscilla ranched a former homestead that had been in his family for generations.
Lovelorn realtors had been coveting a sale for years, but the pair remained the spryest over seventy-year-olds I knew.
Ed had called me out for a second opinion on a hoof issue, and I was glad for the distraction from thoughts of Carson.
“You eat lunch yet?” Ed asked as I finished the exam and my recommendations for ongoing treatment. Wisps of white hair escaped his ancient ball cap, which advertised a tractor brand. “Priscilla made extra tuna salad.”
“She didn’t have to do that.” I looked up from packing up my equipment. I’d been expecting the invite because Priscilla always made a point of feeding me, but I didn’t want her to feel obligated.
“She wanted to.” Ed waited for me to zip my case before motioning at the barn door. “We don’t get a lot of company out here.”
“I’m sorry.” It was easy to forget how lonely life on the range could be. Their closest neighbors were miles away, and trips to town were infrequent special occasions.
“Eh. We get along.” Ed offered a lopsided smile as he ushered me out of the barn. “Being with my best friend of fifty years makes life easier. Us against the world, I tell her. But company is always nice.”
“Your kids don’t visit?” I’d gone to high school with their youngest. The other two had been off at college, but I had vague memories of socializing with the Giffords as kids.
“Not nearly enough.” Ed huffed out a breath as we slowly walked toward the old farmhouse. “They’ve got lives and kids of their own now. Just gotta hope one of the grands takes to ranching.”
“Here’s to hoping,” I said absently, brain stuck on that best-friends comment. What would it be like to hold a friendship for that many years? I had plenty of longtime acquaintances, but a best friend? I hadn’t had one of those in decades. Could Carson fill that role?
“They’ll all be here next month though,” Ed continued as we neared the back porch. “Kids are throwing us a big shindig for our fiftieth. You’re invited.”
“I’m honored.” I followed his lead in removing my shoes at the back door. “Fifty years married.” I whistled. Contemplating a long friendship had been hard enough. A marriage? Half a century with the same person? “That’s a huge milestone.”
“Yep.” Ed placed his boots neatly on the rack near the door. “Reckon your folks would have hit fifty or more years too if they’d lived.”
“Yeah.” My voice was a million miles away. Like the Giffords, my parents had been a team. Equally stubborn and set in their ways. Maddeningly old-fashioned at times. Closed off from uncomfortable emotions and conversations. But their bond was unmistakable.
I’d never wasted time pining for what they’d had.
I’d always felt Mom got the short end of the stick as a vet’s wife, but Ed was right.
They would have easily celebrated fifty years together if fate hadn’t had other plans.
Mom would likely disagree with my assessment that their partnership was unequal.
She’d laugh and tell me she’d choose this life a hundred times over.
As would I. I’d tried on other options, the military and living closer to Denver, but I couldn’t imagine not being a rural vet. I’d assumed that meant signing up for life alone, but what if I were wrong?
“Well, come on, now.” Ed clapped me on the shoulder. “Priscilla’s likely got the good dishes out.”
Priscilla did have the table set for us, and she and Ed kept me talking until I was running late for my afternoon appointments. However, my afternoon was light enough that I made up time and arrived back at the office while Luna was finishing up her day.
I poked my head into her office only to discover a large border collie mix sitting on the floor next to her desk.
“Who’s this?” I asked, stooping to offer pets. He was friendly enough, although in dire need of a bath and grooming.
“You want to name him?” Luna gave a weary chuckle. “Stray. The Youngs found him wandering the road near their property. Brought him in, but he doesn’t fit any of the lost pet alerts for the area.”
“Not surprising.” That far out in the country, the dog was more likely to have been abandoned than to have wandered away from home.
“Yeah. I’ve been making the usual calls. All the shelters are full up.”
“Also not surprising.” I let the dog lick my palm.
Judging by his size and chill temperament, along with a quick peek at his teeth, he was likely at least three or four years old, making him less readily adoptable than puppies.
The area shelters were always running at max capacity, making intake challenging. “Ask the Youngs to foster?”
“Tried.” Luna rubbed her temples. “They’ve got two dogs already, one of whom doesn’t share her humans well.”
“Ah.” I ran through a mental checklist of area dog lovers who might be willing to foster or adopt.
“And before you ask, Mitch and I are headed away for the weekend with the kids.” Luna’s sorrowful expression matched the dog’s. “Don’t suppose you could take him for a few nights while I try to chase down a more permanent foster?”
“Me?” I pursed my mouth. We’d had this conversation before, and I’d always managed to wriggle out of volunteering.
“It’s a slow—”
Holding up a hand, I gave her a playful glare. “No jinxes.”
“Okay. You’re less busy than sometimes.” Luna was undeterred. “What else are you doing with your weekend?”
Avoiding Carson. But I couldn’t exactly confess that. “Not much.”
“Please.” She did a better pout than either of her kids. “He hasn’t had a single accident, so I’m betting he’s housebroken. He’d keep you company.”
“I’ve told you before. My hours aren’t compatible with pets.”
“So you say.” Luna gave an airy wave. “And I’m not asking you to make a lifetime commitment.”
My brain flashed back to the Giffords’ fifty years together. Was I so commitment-shy that I couldn’t give up two days? Also, my house had been far too quiet without Carson’s visits.
“One weekend.” I kept my voice firm, warding off her delighted cheer. “I’ll make some calls too. Perhaps one of the rescues has space.”
“Or maybe you’ll fall in love.” Luna beamed. She’d have me set with a pack of dogs in no time if I gave her an inch. “That would be ideal.”
“Luna.” I let out a long groan as my mind raced. Fall in love. What if I already had?
“I’m teasing.” She left her office chair to offer me a quick hug. “I know you’re not the happily-ever-after type, even with a dog.”
“One weekend.” I made a loud, frustrated noise that startled the dog.
Given how often I’d said the same thing, she was more than justified in her conclusion that I wasn’t after some domestic ideal.
I had no idea why her factual statement rankled me so much.
Letting myself change my dreams and plans would be ill-advised, yet that question continued to linger. What if I already had?