Chapter 3 Colt #2
Shit. That came out all kinds of wrong. I drag a hand through my hair, scrambling for words that won't sound like I'm offering to proposition her for something that ain't work-related.
"I need help. Serious help." I wave at the organized miracle she's worked.
"Someone who can wrangle phones, juggle appointments, and apparently resurrect filing systems from the dead."
She catches her lower lip between her teeth, and I have to fight not to stare at her mouth.
There's something raw in her expression, like this offer might be a lifeline she didn't know she needed.
"My sister Emma won't be back from maternity leave for two months," I continue, trying to ignore how that lip-biting thing is affecting my concentration.
"I've been going under here. Could really use someone with your... talents.""
"A job?" Her voice pitches higher with surprise. "Here? With you?"
"Temporary," I clarify fast, before she can bolt. "Just till Emma gets back from baby duty. Pay's nothing to write home about, but it's honest work, and you've got a gift for it."
I watch a dozen emotions flicker across her face like lightning. Surprise, interest, fear, something that looks dangerously close to hope.
"I don't know," she says slowly. "I was planning to keep moving, and I don't have any formal experience..."
"You don't need experience to answer phones and organize paperwork," I tell her, leaning forward just enough to catch her scent.. "And as for moving on... well, Briarhaven's in the heart of Montana. Plenty to explore if you want to make this your base camp."
She looks around the reception area again, taking in what she accomplished. "Mmm…Ok, I accept."
The words come out quiet but sure.
I grin, unable to hide it. "Welcome aboard. We'll deal with paperwork later. Right now, I need coffee. Or whiskey."
"Paperwork?" she asks, too quickly.
I catch the hesitation and file it away. "Yeah. Name, address, tax forms. Usual bureaucratic bullshit."
She tenses again. "Cash would be better."
Red flags should be going up all over the place. Should be, but aren't. There's something about her that makes me want to protect rather than question.
"Cash works for me," I say, meeting her eyes.
Relief crashes over her features, mixed with something that looks like disbelief that anyone would make things this easy.
"Then it's settled." I extend my hand. "Welcome to Briarhaven Animal Clinic, Lucy Reid."
She takes my hand, and the contact sends electricity straight up my arm. Her fingers are smaller than mine but strong. I find myself holding on longer than necessary, studying how her hand fits in mine.
"Good," I say, my voice coming out rougher than intended.
I reluctantly let go. "Your first official duty is calling Beau Blackwell to let him know his dog's here."
I jerk my chin toward the back where Dusty's sleeping off the drugs.
"He needs the rundown on surgery and what comes next."
"Okay," she says, drawing the word out like she's testing its weight.
"I can't make that call." The admission burns like swallowing acid. "Beau and I... we got what you might call bad blood. He'd rather let his dog suffer than deal with me."
Understanding flickers in those brown eyes. "You don’t get along?."
"That's sugar-coating it."
I slump against the counter, suddenly feeling every mile of hard road I've traveled these past thirty-six years. "Let's just say we had ourselves a disagreement about something that mattered, and neither one of us knows how to bend."
"I'm sorry. That sounds heartbreaking."
"Cut me right down to the bone." I hold her gaze, wondering what it is about this slip of a woman that makes me want to spill my guts.
"Point is, Beau's gonna hate finding out his prize dog's in my clinic. He'll want Dusty transferred faster than spit, whether it kills the animal or not."
"But he just had surgery," Lucy protests. "Moving him could be dangerous."
"I know that. You know that. But Beau's pride runs deeper than his common sense these days."
Lucy squares her shoulders, and I catch a flash of pure steel beneath all that softness.
"Then I guess I'll have to change his mind."
"Easy there, Shortie." The nickname tumbles out before I can catch it, and she blinks like I just spoke in tongues.
"When you call Beau Blackwell, you ain't just delivering news. You're stepping into the middle of a damn war."
Her chin tilts up in a gesture that's probably meant to look confident but just makes her look stubborn and young. "I can handle it."
God, I hope she's right. Because if Beau reacts the way I think he will, Lucy's about to get her first real taste of how ugly things can get in this small town.
"What's his number?"
I rattle off Beau's number from memory, watching as she dials. Part of me wants to warn her again. The other part's dying to see what happens when an unstoppable force named Lucy Reid collides with the immovable object that is Beau Blackwell.
"It's ringing," sucking in a deep breath as someone answers on the other end.
And I realize whatever peace I might've had this afternoon is about to go straight to hell.
But watching Lucy steel herself for war, I discover I don't mind the coming storm near as much as I should.
Hell, I might even be looking forward to it.