Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
GIA
I expected blowback from yesterday. Smuggling a veterinarian who wasn’t officially employed by Vision Veterinary into surgery would ruffle feathers.
Never mind that we brought in traveling surgeons all the time to repair dog knees and patch together fractures that looked like modern art.
This should’ve been the same thing. I suspected it wouldn’t be.
I had an afternoon shift and fully expected to spend it on farm calls. As I walked toward Marty for the list of calls, her face told me I was about to be marched to my execution.
“You’re going to have to smooth things over with Dr. Green,” she said grimly. “She’s furious about the supplies used yesterday, and that she’s stuck babysitting the horse postop today. She wanted you in the recovery barn ten minutes ago.”
“All right,” I sighed. “Am I staying here after that, or am I still heading out?”
Marty handed me the clipboard. “Three farm calls. Dr. Hurst mentioned yesterday we’ve got several new horse barns asking for you specifically. Two of them are on this list.” She winced. “Honestly, that might be part of why Dr. Green’s in such a mood.”
“I’ll go talk to her.” I rounded the desk and pulled Marty into a hug. “Sorry you’re stuck in the middle of this.”
She blinked like the hug caught her off guard, then squeezed me back. When she pulled away, her voice dropped to a whisper. “I think this has a lot more to do with Dr. Green having a thing for Timothy Hurst. She might’ve heard Timothy has a thing for you.”
“Yeah,” I said dryly. “I bet what went down the other day when Timothy almost attacked Justin has been hot gossip.”
Marty gave me a worried look. “Be careful.”
I texted Timothy before I headed to the equine complex.
Gia: Off to see Amanda Green. If she pushes you for the date, do it. Get it over with.
Rye: Ok. Might need you to bust in wearing the boots.
Gia: Counting on you to take everything else off.
Gia: Maybe not in the restaurant per se.
As I walked through the recovery barn, I spotted several of the techs who’d helped with Artax’s surgery. I thanked them. One proudly informed me the horse was already eating and had pooped once.
I didn’t see Amanda Green anywhere obvious, so I drifted toward Artax’s recovery stall and stepped inside. The mare lifted her head when I approached. Her incision looked clean. The fluid line was running steady. Her color was normal.
“You’re a strong girl,” I murmured, patting her neck while I double-checked the catheter.
“Touching,” Amanda Green said from the doorway. “Maybe after you’re done playing horse whisperer, you can explain why you thought you belonged in my surgery suite yesterday.”
I turned.
Amanda leaned against the stall door like she was posing for an ad for generational wealth.
Every strand of curly brown hair was perfect.
Her makeup was flawless. The scrubs were wrinkle free and fitted.
She carried herself with the absolute confidence of a woman who’d never once heard the word no from a man.
“Don’t you ever step foot in equine surgery again without permission,” she said. “You don’t work in that department.”
“Hudson Raynes had full permission to be in there.”
“He might’ve, but you didn’t.”
“I made a call to save a horse. He needed assistance during the procedure.” I glanced back at Artax’s chart. “Thank you for watching her today. She looks good. Really good.”
Amanda laughed once, sharp and humorless. “Wow. You think kissing my ass is going to fix this?”
“No. I think complimenting competent care is good manners.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly at that. “Maybe nobody explained this to you, but there are lines in this clinic. You don’t get to jump departments, charm clients, and parade around like everybody’s favorite little miracle worker.”
I crossed my arms. “If this is about Timothy Hurst, just say it.”
Amanda’s expression hardened instantly. “Are you thinking he’d choose someone like you over me?
” she asked, looking me up and down slowly enough to make it an insult.
“Please. Timothy likes a challenge, not a charity project. Justin Stevens was happy to let me know about your deficiencies while he was in town.”
That one hurt. Still, I kept my face neutral. Hours ago, Timothy had chosen me. “What’s your interest in Timothy? Are you looking for fun, or are you shopping for a husband with land and a retirement plan?”
“We’re dating now,” she said immediately, chin lifting. “Officially.”
The speed of the answer told me she’d been waiting to say it.
I shoved down every ounce of need to fight over him. “I’ve known him a long time. He can be a handful.”
Unfortunately, my brain immediately betrayed me with the memory of my hands proving said handful—
Heat rushed into my cheeks.
Amanda’s eyes sharpened like a shark scenting blood in the water.
“Oh my God,” she said softly. “You’re actually jealous.”
“I have no reason to be jealous.” Thank God that came out more confident that I felt.
She smiled slowly. “That’s embarrassing for you. I’m texting him right now about tonight.” She typed on her phone.
I was so relieved I gave Timothy the heads up.
She grinned when she got his reply. “He’s taking me to the steakhouse at five-thirty.”
I had all the information I needed. “Have a great time. I’m headed out on some farm calls.”
* * *
My day had not gone according to plan.
I was running late to “rescue” Timothy from his date. I’d texted him I’d try to save him around six forty-five-ish.
After a mad dash home, I didn’t have time to find the outfit I’d envisioned. The boots deserved better. Instead, I yanked on jeans, a T-shirt, and the boots.
Then I checked on Misty. She immediately projectile vomited. On herself. On me. On the bed.
I spent the next fifteen minutes speed-cleaning puke. Once Misty was settled, I stripped off my shirt, grabbed the first clean one in my drawer, and bolted out the door.
As I pulled into the parking lot my phone dinged with a notification.
Psychodad: You brought this on yourself.
I stared at it for a full thirty seconds The message was too calm and far too controlled for my father. That was the kind of sentence written by someone who’d already made a decision and was enjoying the moment before everyone else caught up to it.
Outside, people moved through the parking lot shared between the restaurant and the Piggly Wiggly like normal. Shopping carts rattled. A woman laughed somewhere near the entrance to the grocery store.
Meanwhile, my pulse had started thudding so hard I could feel it in my throat.
I read the text again. You brought this on yourself.
My stomach tightened. It was a promise. Suddenly, every person I loved felt exposed. Sofia. Gia. My mom. Timothy. Misty.
I looked up sharply, scanning the lot on instinct. How could I protect everyone when I didn’t even know where the danger would hit?
First order of business was to save Timothy from this date.
I flipped down the visor mirror.
Oh my.
Somehow, I’d forgotten to brush the mud out of my hair from the last barn call. I threw my head upside down, wrestled everything into a bun, then leaned back into my car searching for my emergency deodorant spray.
I sprayed my shirt. My jeans. My bra. The air around me.
Only then did I look down. The shirt I’d grabbed was black with giant pink letters across the chest that read: I’M HERE FOR THE BOOBS.
It was from a breast cancer fundraiser. Kill me now.
I paced inside and spotted Timothy immediately. Of course he looked good. Cleaned up. Outwardly calm. He probably smelled like soap instead of a veterinary disaster scene.
I texted him.
Gia: Get her to go to the bathroom.
Within moments Amanda stood and headed off.
Perfect.
I marched toward the table where the remains of dinner indicated they were nearing the end of their time in the restaurant. Timothy turned in his seat, took one long look at me—from the muddy bun to the shirt to the boots. Then his gaze landed on my chest. His face flushed. He burst out laughing.
He pointed at my shirt. “Me too.” His voice lowered when I closed in. “Yours in particular.”
“What about the boots?” I shot back, holding up a foot to rotate the boots. I slid into Amanda’s chair. “Sorry I’m late. Farm call ran long, then Misty puked on me. Clearly, I didn’t check what shirt I grabbed in the panic.”
Timothy was still grinning like this was the greatest thing he’d ever seen. “You smell strongly floral.”
“That’s because underneath it is cow shit and vomit.” I waved down my body. “This, right here, is the sexy stuff of dreams.”
His grin widened. “Shit, boots, and boobs. That’s the girl of my fantasies.”
I snorted so loudly a nearby couple glanced over. Then I doubled over laughing.
Then Timothy’s amusement faded just slightly as he looked past me. He warned, “This is not going to go well if you’re still sitting there when she gets back.”
“I’m sorry I failed at the whole saving you from this. I’m a certifiable hot mess today.”
Right on cue, I heard Amanda’s heels clicking across the floor like the approach of an angry, well-dressed assassin.
“Get out of my seat,” she snipped.
I stood and waved her into her chair.
“What are you doing here? And in that?” She gave me that condescending look like no one would possibly be interested in me.
“Getting takeout.” My eyes didn’t deviate from Timothy. “I need a bath.” Then I leaned in and whispered into his ear so Amanda couldn’t hear. “Thinking I need some help with that. Your place or mine? Text me.” If he agreed, I could talk to him about my father’s text…later.
Then I left.
The text came up thirty seconds later while I was ordering some takeout.
Rye: Mine. Half hour. Let me get Sof to bed.