12
Savannah finished checking her patient’s heart rate and made a note of it in the chart. “So, I saw Roscoe in the recovery ward. What’s he in for now?” she asked.
Dr. Madden was standing beside the stainless-steel table, nearly finished spaying a cocker spaniel. “Three rubber ducks and a pair of underwear,” the vet said matter-of-factly.
Savannah groaned and watched the monitor beside her. “Seriously? Is there anything that dog won’t eat?”
“Apparently not, but Julie was on call yesterday, and she helped me go in after everything. The good news is he’ll live to steal another day.”
Savannah squinted at the vet, suddenly suspicious. “What’s the bad news?”
Dr. Madden glanced up, and her eyes crinkled at the corners, though her smile was hidden behind her surgical mask. “The bad news is, it wasn’t Mrs. Simpson’s underwear.”
Savannah let out a long, low whistle as she watched the animal’s chest rise and fall.
“Yeah,” the doctor replied, going back to her work.
“My post-op instructions dissolved into a full-on counseling session with Julie rubbing Mrs. Simpson’s back and trying to come up with other logical ways the family dog might have ingested a random pair of lacey pink boy shorts. There weren’t very many.”
Savannah grimaced. “Poor woman,” she sympathized. “You gotta love this place, though. Part veterinary medicine, part personal therapy.”
“I know, right? So why do you want to leave us?”
Savannah paused. “What?”
“You’re leaving us, aren’t you? Timson told me you’re applying for that fancy Huntsville job,” Dr. Madden asked. The rhythmic beeping of the anesthesia monitor suddenly increased, and the doctor paused. “We still good?”
Savannah pressed the end of her stethoscope to the dog’s chest and listened for a moment.
“Still good. It’s just double counting,” she replied.
Then she shrugged. “I sent in the paperwork for Huntsville, but that doesn’t mean they’ll want to talk to me,” she said, returning to the original conversation.
“I’m just a baby vet tech; I’m sure there are other applicants with years of experience. ”
“It’s not guaranteed, but I wouldn’t be surprised. They are looking for someone to train, after all,” the doctor reasoned. Then she nodded toward the supplies Savannah had arranged earlier. “Open that suture pack for me.”
Savannah did as she was told before responding. “We’ll see. It’s a great opportunity and it’s closer to home, but honestly, I like it here. I haven’t decided if I really want to leave,” she said.
Dr. Madden retrieved her suture reel from the now-open sterile pack before shooting Savannah a knowing look. “Especially when rumor has it you’ve done the impossible,” she added.
“What?”
“You’ve done the impossible,” the vet repeated. “Tamed the beast, caught the white whale.”
Savannah stared blankly, still lost.
Dr. Madden huffed as she began her sutures. “Are you or are you not romantically involved with a certain Drew Tanner, Cypress Valley’s youngest hermit?”
Heat washed across Savannah’s face, flooding the space between the top of her mask and her hairline, and the vet chuckled.
“Uh-huh. That’s what I thought.”
“How do you know about that?” Savannah demanded.
“Oh honey, news like that travels faster than the flu in this town. All you had to do was snuggle up with him on the hayride, and your fate was sealed. Nothing around here is sacred.”
Savannah fell into silence as she checked the dog’s vital signs again. “Romantically involved” was such a broad term. What were she and Drew, exactly? It had only been a week, so they hadn’t been on any official dates yet. He hadn’t called her his girlfriend. They’d barely even kissed.
Well, okay, not barely. There had been a lot of kissing.
He’d admitted to having been interested years ago, and he was clearly interested now, but where was it going?
What did it all mean to him? Was he expecting this to be it?
Was he thinking they’d get married? Did she want to?
Savannah’s mind started to spiral, coming up with more questions than she had answers for.
Drew wasn’t going anywhere, that much was certain; whatever they did together, they’d have to do right here in Cypress Valley. So the real question was: Did she have enough reason to stay?
“You could just wait at the house, you know. You don’t have to come with me.”
Savannah slid her hand across the top of Drew’s leg and squeezed his knee. “I know, but I want to help,” she insisted.
“But you’ve been at work all day, and it’s muddy, and—”
“Do you see what I have on? Do you see what I’m already covered in?” Savannah asked, waving her hand in front of herself to draw his attention to the navy scrubs streaked with animal hair and dirt and . . . probably some other things she’d rather not think about.
He took his attention off the road for a brief moment, and Savannah could almost feel his gaze slide down the length of her and back up, lingering on the baseball cap she’d stolen from him weeks ago. “Mmmhmm,” he hummed.
“Does it look like a little more mud is going to matter?” she demanded. “Besides, getting dirty with you is a whole lot better than getting dirty with Domino.”
Drew’s brow wrinkled as he slowed for a turn. “Who’s Domino?”
“Domino is a Dalmatian who took offense with how up close and personal we got today. At least nobody in this truck is going to poop on me.”
Drew coughed out a surprised sort of laugh.
Then he shifted the truck into park and reached for his door handle.
“Well, the cows might,” he said. Then he slid to the ground.
He left his door open as he walked toward where the fence to the feed lot was securely latched, and Savannah leaned toward the opening to shout after him.
“You want me to drive it through?”
He stopped and turned back to her, confusion etched across his face. “The truck?” he asked.
“No, the spaceship!” she quipped. “Yes, the truck! Through the gate? You know . . .” She held her hands in the air and mimed turning a steering wheel.
“Oh, you don’t have to do that. I’ll be right back. I can do it.”
Savannah rolled her eyes and unlatched her seat belt before sliding across the bench. “I know you can, Andrew. I’m asking if you want help,” she shouted. She positioned herself behind the steering wheel and swung his door closed. Then she rolled down the window. “Open sesame!” she ordered.
Drew hesitated another moment, clearly thrown by this turn of events, but then he finally moved toward the gate and unlocked the padlock on one side. He’d parked the truck far enough away that he could pull the gate open.
Savannah shifted into drive and stretched her legs toward the pedals.
Their height difference was a complication she hadn’t considered, and she had to move to the very edge of the seat to press the accelerator, but she managed.
Slowly, the truck moved through the now-open gate, and she stopped on the other side without issue.
Drew closed the gate behind them and walked back to the open window.
“Alright, where next?” she asked, leaning one arm on the window ledge.
An odd sort of expression moved across his face, and he cocked his head to one side as he considered her. Then he lifted his hand and pointed to another gate to the left of the barn. “That way,” he said.
Savannah gave a decisive nod and took her foot off the brake.
The second gate led directly into the cow pasture, and the mud here was a bit deeper than before.
She felt the tires slip to one side, and she slowed to a crawl as she moved through the opening and came to a stop beside a large feeder.
Drew secured the gate and joined her as she climbed to the ground.
“There, see! Easy peas—”
But Drew didn’t let her finish. Instead, he tipped her face up with one hand and landed a hard, decisive kiss against her lips.
It only took a second for it to gentle, however, and within moments, Savannah was lost in everything that was Andrew Tanner.
Gone were the smell of the barnyard and the squelch of mud beneath her tennis shoes; instead, her senses catalogued the callouses on his palms as they slid down her neck and the hard planes of his chest as he breathed against her—both a direct contrast to the softness of his mouth.
When he pulled away and looked down at her, his eyes glassy and unfocused, Savannah had to bite her lip to hold back an unexpected giggle. “What was that for?” she asked breathlessly.
Drew blinked slowly, as if he hadn’t quite heard the question. Then he ran his finger along the brim of the cap she wore and cleared his throat, his cheeks red. “You should drive my truck more often,” he answered, his voice gravelly, and Savannah’s smile broke free despite her best efforts.
“Yeah?” she asked, snaking her hands up the front of his shoulders.
Drew cleared his throat again before humming a response, clearly distracted. Savannah loved this new reaction, loved that she could have this much effect on him by doing almost nothing.
“Drew?” she prompted at last, trying to regain his attention. “The cows?”
Clarity returned to his features, and he sucked in a sharp breath.
“Cows. Yeah, cows,” he repeated vaguely.
He stepped back and let go of her, though his hands slid from her skin as if he was reluctant to turn her loose.
“Feed the cows,” he mumbled under his breath, like he was reminding himself why they were standing where they were.
Savannah couldn’t help but laugh. She’d never seen him quite this rattled! Maybe she did need to drive his truck more often.
Drew drove carefully back through the gate and then watched in the rearview mirror as Savannah closed and locked it behind them.
He’d made a point to swap roles this time, since apparently his nervous system couldn’t handle watching her drive his pickup, one wrist slung over the wheel like she did it every day.