Chapter Eleven
"You did great," said Frankie, as Harper slid down from the horse's back. She patted his neck, feeling a little unsteady now that she was back on the ground.
"Thanks. I feel like I should be learning faster. Do you think I'll ever get the hang of it?"
"'Course you will," said Frankie. "Like I said, you're doing great."
Harper made a face. "I feel like you're just being nice to me."
Frankie rolled her eyes, and Harper turned to look when she called, "Hey, Lib, get this. Harper thinks I'm bullshitting her, saying that she's doing better than she is, learning to ride."
Libby threw her head back and laughed. "I thought you'd been here long enough to know better than that. Frankie’s only ever going to tell you the truth.
If she thought you weren't doing well, she'd say so and tell you what you were doing wrong and how to fix it—and if you couldn’t take it, that’d be your problem, not hers.
" Libby gave her a puzzled look as she approached.
"What's really going on? Are you the one who feels that you're not doing well enough? "
Harper blew out a sigh. "I guess I am, yeah. I mean, it's hard not to when you see everyone around here just leap up on the horse's back and ride away, as if they were born in the saddle."
"You have to remember that most of us pretty much were," said Frankie. "I was riding before I could walk."
"Me too," said Libby.
"And you're not even starting until you're almost sixty," said Frankie. "So, give yourself a break, would ya? You're doing great."
Harper let out a short laugh. "What, great for a senior? Is that what you're trying to say?"
Frankie slapped her arm. "No, I'm not, but if you keep up with this shit, I'll start saying stuff like that."
Harper held her hands up. "Okay, okay. I'll take your word for it; I'm doing all right."
"You are. Although, if you want to get better faster, you should start coming over more often."
Harper pursed her lips.
"Exactly," said Libby. "As much as we'd love to see you here, you have more important things to spend your time on."
Frankie grinned at her. "I know I'm not supposed to ask about you and Emmett, but I'm keeping my fingers crossed for you guys."
"Thanks. That's all I'm going to say." Harper checked her watch.
"Are you picking the girls up today?" Libby asked.
"No, Cash is going for them. I said I would, but this was one of the few chances when he knew he'd be able to go. Apparently, they have a tradition of going to the diner in town for milkshakes when they can."
Libby smiled. "Yeah, that's a longstanding tradition. I know the girls miss you when they don't see you, but Cash isn't a bad consolation prize."
"Does this mean you're coming to the bakery with us?" Frankie asked. "It is Friday afternoon, after all."
"I think so," said Harper. "I'm going to stop and check in with Jim first, see if he wants to come."
"Well, bring him if he does," said Libby. "But get yourself down there, even if he doesn't. You miss too many of the Friday gatherings because you're usually with Alana and Tanya. You should make the most of not having them this week."
"I'll see," Harper told her.
Once she was back on the road, she only hesitated for a few moments before telling her phone to call Emmett. There was no reason that she shouldn't call the man. Although, as she waited for him to pick up, she drummed her fingers on the steering wheel.
He'd probably be busy with work. She could leave him a message, tell him that she just wanted to say hi—that'd be okay, wouldn't it?
All the tension left her shoulders when he answered, "Hey, Harper, this is a nice surprise. You made my day. What's going on?"
"Aww, that's a lovely thing to say."
He chuckled. "Glad to hear it. I'll make a note and be sure to say it again. It just came out because it's true."
She laughed. "There's no need to make a note. It felt good to hear because it was spontaneous. I don't want you starting to build yourself a checklist of things you're supposed to say and do."
He chuckled. "Yeah, sorry, I didn't mean that how it sounded. But anyway, what's going on?"
"Not much. I just finished my riding lesson with Frankie. I'm on my way back to Jim's place and..." She glanced at the clock. "And I wondered if you were busy. I'm going to be passing the clinic here shortly. I could stop in and say hi if you have a few minutes."
She could hear the smile in his voice when he said, "Yeah, I have a few minutes. It'd be good to see you. I'd like that."
"Awesome. It won't take me long." She glanced over at her purse on the passenger seat. "Oh, and I can drop off the makeup I picked up in town for Alana." She chuckled. "If you didn't sound happy to hear from me, I was going to use that as my excuse for calling."
"You don't need an excuse to call me, Harper. And hey, if it feels that way, I'm sorry I don't call you more. It's just that with work..."
"No, no, I didn't mean it like that. I just—I didn't want to embarrass myself or make either of us feel like I'm asking for too much of your time."
"You're not. I wish we could find more time. Time for us, you know. The girls get to hang out with you so much, and I feel like I'm missing out."
"Aww, another sweet thing to say. But I get it, it's because you're working. Although, just so we're clear, I feel like I'm missing out on time with you, too. But you have work and the girls. You're a busy Papa Bear," she added with a laugh.
When he didn't laugh with her, she bit down on her bottom lip. She hadn't called him that in a while. In fact, not since that night, when she'd gone and messed things up. Now, she'd gone and relaxed too much and forgotten.
"Hey, Emmett—"
"Listen, Harper, can I call you back later? I... I just—I need to check on something."
"But… I'll be there in a few minutes."
"No, don't come. I'll call you later."
She leaned back in her seat when the call ended abruptly.
Shoot. She blew out a sigh, surprised that she'd offended him so easily.
She thought things had gotten more relaxed between the two of them, but apparently not.
She gripped the steering wheel tight as she approached the turnoff for the clinic.
She should probably do as he asked, but she'd never been one to do what she was supposed to. She knew damn well that if she went right on home, she'd only sit there and stew. It'd be far better if she stopped at the clinic right now and went to apologize.
Okay, so she might think he was being touchy if just the mention of his Papa Bear name was enough to make him hang up on her. But if it really mattered to him, she could respect that—and she’d tell him so. The last thing she wanted was for her careless words to cause a rift between them.
~ ~ ~
Emmett's jaw clenched as he set his phone down on the desk. He felt bad cutting Harper short like that, but all the little hairs on the back of his neck were standing up. While they'd been talking, he thought he'd seen a shadow cross the yard—someone was out there, he knew it.
He'd let the techs go at lunchtime, as was usual when things were quiet on a Friday. They worked their asses off for him and assisted him after hours often enough. It was only fair.
He had no appointments lined up this afternoon, and folks in the valley wouldn't just come out here to see him on the off chance—they knew their best bet was to call him.
He went to the window but couldn't see anything out there.
His truck was the only vehicle in the lot, although.
.. He hurried out into the hallway, headed for the back room, remembering all of a sudden the mark on Janey's window that she'd shown him.
Her office was on the quiet side of the building.
If someone had tried to break in there before. ..
He headed straight for the drug room. He needed to check the cabinet. He cursed himself as he went. He shouldn't have left his phone on the desk—he should be calling Deacon right now. But that would have to come later.
He approached the door quietly and pushed it open slowly.
As soon as he poked his head in, he heard someone yell.
Pain exploded inside his head as he fell to the floor.
Everything went black for a few moments.
Shit, he should have been more careful. He'd known about the string of robberies. Damn it.
Every instinct he had wanted to leap up and fight. But he was older now, and a dad, so he let his logic override his instincts and lay there, eyes closed, hoping to buy himself some time.
It seemed to work. He heard footsteps moving away from him and rushing toward the drug cabinet. He opened his eyes a crack and peered out to see a young guy, maybe in his mid-twenties, stringy hair hanging down his back.
Emmett inhaled as he watched the kid use the butt of his pistol to smash the glass on the cabinet. That must have been what he used on the back of Emmett's head, which was throbbing like hell. But he was grateful that at least he hadn't used the business end.
It wasn't much consolation, but even if the thieving bastard got away, he wasn't going to get much ketamine—Emmett was sure that was what he was after. Since he'd heard about the recent robberies, Emmett had been ordering only what he needed, keeping minimal stock on hand.
He waited until the kid set his pistol on the desk behind him while he wrestled with the cabinet door. Then, he rolled onto his side, pushed to his feet, and ran at a crouch, tackling the thief like the linebacker he'd been in high school.
He wasn't fast enough though.
Still dizzy from the blow to his head, Emmett caught the kid off guard but didn't take him down—he screamed like a banshee and lunged for the pistol as he fell.
The shot cracked through the room. Both he and his assailant froze for a split second. Then a red stain bloomed across Emmett's shirt, and white heat seared through his shoulder.