Chapter 7
All Work and No Play?
I spent most of the night wondering if Jamie would lead me to his bed if I knocked on his door. Just for one night, would he let me forget everything except my own pleasure and what it feels like to be wanted?
At four a.m., I decide that I’ve lain in bed, sexually frustrated, for long enough.
Jamie told me to meet him at the barn at eight, but I may as well get the lay of the land now. I wrap Jubilee in my sweater, grab my laptop and my stethoscope, and trudge through the snow.
Jamie’s house is still dark, but when I push into the barn, the lights are already on. A few reindeer grunt, scraping their hooves and antlers against the metal gates. I can’t do anything useful until my supplies arrive—no samples, no tests—so I drift toward a free stall where I can store Jubilee.
That’s when Jamie leaps out of Arrietty’s pen like some kind of six-foot jack-in-the-box cowboy. “You’re here already?”
I startle so hard that Jubilee goes limp in my arms.
“Oh my god, is she all right?” he asks. There’s sweat shining along his hairline, and his shirt is clinging to places I should not be noticing before sunrise.
“She passes out with loud noises.”
By the time I settle her into the stall, she’s already rousing, blinking up at me like I’m the problem.
“Is she a rescue?”
“Yep. A patient brought her in, and I could tell she wasn’t taken care of. So, I offered to keep her. He didn’t put up a fight.” I brush my hands off. “What can I do?”
“I’m just cleaning stalls and feeding before I take the girls to school.”
“Point me to a pitchfork.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I need something to keep my hands busy. Probably why my boss forced me to take this vacation.”
His brow lifts. “Your boss forced you? I thought you said the clinic was under reconstruction.”
Fuck. Didn’t mean to let that tidbit slip.
“It is under construction…”
“And?”
“I work a lot,” I sigh. “But I love it. Miriam, my boss, just worries too much.”
“You do have the vibe of someone who works too much.”
“You just met me.”
“Doesn’t mean I can’t read you, Doc.” He leans against the stall door, entirely too casual. “Though I didn’t peg you for someone who likes getting their hands dirty.”
I cross my arms, trying not to look rattled.
“For your information, I’m usually filthy.
” He runs his thumb and pointer finger over his mustache, looking entirely too amused.
“Not like that—I mean…” I groan, rubbing my temples.
“I’m a surgeon. By the end of the day, I’m covered in, you know, fluids. ”
“Right.” He’s clearly biting back a laugh. And it’s diabolical how good he looks doing it.
“All I’m saying is that I want to stay busy while I’m here, so I’d like to help.” My tone comes out sharper than I intended.
“Okay.” He relents easily. “I’ll fill the wheelbarrow with hay, then I can show you how to feed the animals.”
“Thanks.” I glance around the barn, eager to redirect myself back into competence.
“Also, I noticed yesterday that you’ve got all the sick reindeer in one pen.
” I point to the largest stall in the center.
“We need to separate them. They might look similar symptom-wise, but we need to monitor food and water intake individually. You did the right thing keeping them apart from the herd, but together isn’t much better. ”
“You’re bossy.”
I grin. “I’m literally helping for free.”
He chuckles, tousling his messy brown curls. “Fair point. Let’s prep the stalls with feed first.”
Jamie turns to the giant mound of hay bales, hauls himself on top, and starts tossing flakes into the wheelbarrow with ease.
His forearms flex as he works, and my stomach does a little flip-flop.
Jamie is built like someone who could protect me from a charging moose.
He’s sturdy, with a stupidly attractive dad bod.
He’s wearing a faded gray T-shirt with a worn logo from some old hockey team, the fabric already damp with sweat and clinging to his lats and shoulders, every ridge and curve of muscle outlined as he moves.
I stare. Probably a little too openly.
“You like what you see?” Jamie asks without looking down.
“Yes,” I say before I can stop myself.
That gets his attention. He glances over, the corner of his mouth curving. “You’re honest. I’ll give you that.”
I shrug, feigning casual, even as heat creeps into my face. “I read an article yesterday that said flirting is supposed to reduce stress. Consider me testing the theory.”
“And I’m the lab rat?”
“More like the strong, hay-slinging, nice-mustache-wearing control variable.”
His laugh rumbles low. “If being ogled comes with compliments like that, I can live with it.”
“Good,” I say, still watching him work. “Because I’m not done with my experiment yet.”
He jumps down from the bales and lands in front of me. A stray piece of hay clings to the brim of his cowboy hat. I reach up and pluck it off, flicking it to the ground, and bite my cheek to stop myself from smiling.
“Thanks.” He tilts his head down, gaze locked on mine. It’s like staring into an endless grassy field on a spring day.
“What’s next?” I croak.
We walk around, filling the wall-mounted metal feeders in each pen. “If you’re not keen on social media to raise money, maybe you could offer reindeer adoption. People could pay to adopt a reindeer, and in return, you’d send them a picture of their animal once a year and a little care package.”
“That’s a thing?”
“I’m a proud sponsor of a koala in Australia and an elephant in Thailand.”
“I know zilch about any of this. I don’t think I’ve even updated our website since Winnie went through her web designer phase.”
“Hence the SpongeBob fish where your headshot should be.”
“Sisters.” He shrugs. “Where’d you grow up?”
“Just outside Hartford.” I don’t want to talk about home. About packing a bag every Friday and waiting in the principal’s office for Dad to pick me up so my parents wouldn’t have to see each other. “You’ve been here your whole life?”
“Don’t say it like it’s a bad thing.” Jamie eyes me, tossing another flake into the last stall.
A reindeer with white around its eyes grunts and rips a slice from the feeder.
“I like it here. Tessa and I went to Portland for community college, but I always knew I’d take over the farm. When she got pregnant, we came back.”
Tessa.
“Sorry. About your wife.”
“Winnie told you, huh?” There’s no anger in his voice, his tone suggesting that he’d already assumed she would. Maybe they have a sibling agreement that she breaks the news so that he doesn’t have to. “It was a long time ago. Now let me teach you how to put a halter on.”
We sling the harnesses over the reindeer’s heads, the rope straps running over their muzzles and behind their ears. Jamie rattles off each reindeer’s name, and I write it on the board next to their stall: Calcifer, Jiji, Ponyo, Totoro, and Howl.
Clearly, the girls picked all the names.
There are over a hundred reindeer on the property, most roaming freely in the forests behind the house. By the time we finish separating the reindeer into their individual pens, I’m already sore.
“Okay, time for some fun,” Jamie says while he hangs up the pitchforks.
“Fun?” I echo, skeptical.
“This Miriam lady seems to know her stuff, so we’re going to have some fun for the rest of the morning.”
“I have to read up on the pregnancy, though.”
“Your laptop won’t grow legs and run away. I can give you a tour of the property before the girls get up,” Jamie offers.
“I have a feeling I won’t be able to get out of this.”
“Smart lady.”
He smiles and walks toward the back of the barn, and I follow. The morning air is sharp, and I bundle into my jacket.
“No,” I say when I spot the snowmobile.
“Filled her up this morning,” he says, opening the seat to grab two helmets. “You can drive if you want.”
“My thighs are still sore from my ride two days ago.” His eyes drop to my legs, and I flush. “Can’t we walk or something?”
“Thought you learned that lesson yesterday.”
“I’m gonna get your sister back.”
“I’ll help you. But first.” He extends a helmet toward me. I take it.
“Where should I sit?”
“Up front.”
He pats the seat, and I swing my leg over the cold leather, heart hammering.
He climbs up behind me, chest hot against my back, and when his arms coil around me to grip the handlebars, the contact sparks a ridiculous jolt through me that my brain insists is inappropriate.
He turns on the engine, and the snowmobile vibrates beneath me.
“I’ll go slow,” he murmurs into my ear, and my thighs clench involuntarily.
Jamie skillfully navigates us across the property just as the sun crests over the horizon, spilling buttery gold and soft peach across the sky. The snow and trees sparkle like everything has been dusted with huge flecks of sugar.
“Have you ever driven on a lake?” he yells over the engine.
I glance around at the pristine landscape, spotting a wide, flat stretch of ice. Anxiety churns in my gut. “No. Is that even safe?”
“Should be.”
Before I can react, we glide onto the frozen surface. I gasp, gripping his forearms as the snowmobile skids over the ice. “Oh my god, Jamie! Slow down!”
He eases the throttle until the snowmobile halts. Jamie dismounts behind me, gloved hands resting on my shoulders. I’m quivering, breath coming in quick bursts. I don’t do things like this.
“Come on,” he says, removing his helmet and shaking out his dark brown hair.
I hesitate, looking down. “Are we about to fall through?”
He digs his boots into the snow, revealing the bright blue ice underneath. “I already took the girls out here for Thanksgiving. Trust me. It’s safe. Freezes over every November.”
“Are you about to get me killed?”
“You’ll be fine, Doc.” He winks, gloved hand extending toward me. “Come on. The herd’s just over that hill. They’ll scatter if they hear the motor.”
My heart skips as I reach for his hand. “If I fall through this ice—”
“You won’t. I promise.”