Chapter 17
17
Cortney
“Thanks again for helping out today.” I smile at Bree and dust my hands off on my navy scrub pants.
She waves me off with a bright smile. “It’s not a problem. The kids are all at the daycare with Whitney, and Corjan’s helping Lee with the adoption event until this afternoon.”
“You mean you didn’t want to help my brothers charm people into giving those dogs new loving homes?”
Bree rubs the clean examination table with unnecessary effort before tossing down the rag. Her adorable huff brings a grin to my face. “If I have to hear one more woman ask if my husband is available for adoption too, I might just lose it.”
“There are way too many single women in this town. The men are outnumbered ten to one,” I tease while restocking supplies.
“You aren’t wrong.” She wipes the sweat from her brow. “But my husband is off the market. By his own confession he’s been that way since high school. These girls should know to keep their hands to themselves.”
“If he would just walk around shirtless, they’d all get a glimpse of your name tattooed on his chest and scatter.”
Bree laughs. “I’m pretty sure that’s against some safety violation somewhere.”
“It can’t be much different from the fire station's annual calendar.”
“That’s for charity!”
“So? They might be my brothers, but we aren’t blood related and I’m not blind. They’re an attractive bunch.” I run the broom across the floor, gathering hair and nail clippings into a pile. “You and I both know they’d run out of dogs if they took off some clothes, and Corjan could show off your brand at the same time.”
“And you and I both know there are some ladies who wouldn’t be deterred.”
“Isn’t that the truth.”
“Speaking of single women, how are you doing?”
My eyes snap to Bree’s before darting away. “Nice segue,” I grumble, picking up my purple thermos. The coffee is still hot from this morning, buying me precious time with each delicious sip. “I’m good.”
“Cortney.”
“What?”
Bree moves briskly into my line of sight. “You haven’t said much to anyone in weeks. Your fiancé cheated on you, and you jet off on your prepaid honeymoon, coming home after an extended stay, sun-kissed and glowing, as if you didn’t just get your heart broken.”
“You know I love you, right?” I reply through a tight throat.
Her brows move together. “Yes,” she answers cautiously.
I bob my head. “Good. I just can’t tell you how thankful I am to have a family who checks on me out of concern and not out of a need to gossip. Except with each other of course.”
“So with that in mind, can you tell me how you really are? It almost feels as if you met someone on your trip.”
My eyes dart for the open door as if I might find a line of clients waiting to save me from divulging too much information.
“I really am fine. I went on vacation and extended my stay for a bit of soul-searching, and I found it.”
“Found what?”
Safety. Acceptance. Desire. Dare I say something even deeper?
Or so I thought.
I shrug and lick the rim of my mug before taking another drink. “Sebastian wasn’t right for me.”
Bree’s snort rings loud in the small room. “I’ll say. He was a downright stuck-up prick if you ask me.”
Hollowing my cheeks does nothing to suppress the smile breaking free. “He was that.” I lift my thermos to her in a salute.
“I honestly don’t know how you aren’t drowning yourself in baked goods. This festival is full of them,” Bree says. Her suggestion sets off a rumble in my stomach.
“Speaking of…” I glance at the door of my mobile vet clinic. “There’s a lull.”
“And?” Mischief sparkles in her brown eyes.
“One of those locally baked goods sounds good right about now.”
“Say no more.” Bree picks up her purse and moves swiftly out the door.
Needing some fresh air, I follow a few steps behind, exiting the converted RV and dodging the canvas canopy in order to soak in a little sunshine on my newly sun-kissed skin.
Someday soon, I’ll need to divulge the details of my honeymoon-that-wasn’t to my family, but I’m not ready. From day one, being the only girl meant I had five brothers who vowed to protect me. A job they took seriously even more so after Dad passed away.
Which is why I don’t want to tell them that I didn’t spend my Caribbean vacation drunk on a beach. I didn’t come close to spending it alone.
In fact, I spent it with the one man besides Sebastian they despise.
“Spencer Stone. It’s a damn hallucination to see you strolling through Fairview Valley. First time back since graduation?”
I resist the urgent need to turn around. Or flee. I shuffle and reorganize animal care pamphlets on the table.
Oh my god.
He’s here.
What is he doing here?
“Something like that.” Spencer’s gravelly voice scrapes over his short reply. The truth of his words burrows like a thorn in my chest, deep enough that even a good inhale can’t displace it.
The man whistles. “That’s a long time. Twenty years, yeah? About as long as a prison sentence.”
“Yep.”
The simple response sets off a chain reaction beneath my skin. Bumps erupt along my bare arms, a direct contradiction to the midday sun beating down. My scrub top sticks to my back where a bead of sweat rolls steadily down my spine. I freeze in place. The task in front of me is nearly forgotten as my ears perk up to the voices behind me. One in particular sets a storm rolling in my stomach.
“I heard about the accident.”
“Considering what you do for a living, I’m not surprised. Heard you’re about to retire.”
The little information in Spencer’s retort clears up any confusion I had about who stopped him on the sidewalk for a chat and explains the thread of displeasure in his tone.
Sheriff Jim Perry and Spencer have a history. One the rest of us never really understood. There was always some animosity there that the Sheriff didn’t have for the rest of us Powell and Stone kids. Sheriff Perry was always looking for Spencer rather than looking out for him. If there was trouble, Spencer could almost always guarantee a knock on his door asking if he’d been involved.
Eight times out of ten, he could truthfully deny the allegations.
The other two…
He might have been the star quarterback our senior year, but he got into just enough mischief to make a name for himself. For whatever reason, that made him a target.
And Sheriff Perry had a history of being a bully.
My musings drift off as their conversation resumes.
“You know how it is around here,” Jim says.
“Yeah.” Spencer’s voice takes on a hard edge.
“All things considered, you look all right.”
Spencer swears, and my stomach clenches.
“I just mean the scars are hardly noticeable.” Jim goes on.
“What’s got that frown on your face, honey?” A voice roughened from years of smoking saves me from the conversation at my back.
My chin rises from my chest, revealing how tightly I was squeezing my shoulders to my ears. The festival on Main Street resumes around me as if I didn’t just spend the last however many minutes eavesdropping.
“Oh, it’s nothing.” I laugh with a wave of my hand, forcing my muscles to relax. “How can I help you, Dora?”
She raises her arm. I swiftly move to help her settle the pet carrier on the table beneath the white canopy.
“I heard you’d be down here for the day. My Mr. Fluffskateer needs his vaccines and a nail trim.”
Inwardly, I groan. Dora’s cat is old and as ornery as they come. I’m pretty sure his least favorite thing in the world is a visit to my office for his annual visit.
“Did you give him his medicine to sedate him?” I peer into the carrier. The ginger cat releases a mighty growl.
“Well, I tried, but I think he might have spit it out. You know how bad my eyesight is.”
“I understand.” I smile. “I’ll see what he’ll put up with today.”
“You only run this free clinic once a year, so I hope you can make it work.”
Every year during the Fairview Valley Festival I run a free vaccine and nail trim clinic. Many of my regular clients take advantage of the opportunity to bring their pets up-to-date and save a little cash to spend on the festival instead.
I scan the people passing around my tent. “Don’t worry, Dora. I’ll take care of him. Once my assistant returns, we can get started.”
“Do you know how long that might be? I need to get over to the square dancing competition in twenty minutes. Aiden promised to be my partner.” Dora winks and wiggles her heavily drawn eyebrows.
I laugh at the image of my youngest brother taking her for a spin on the dance floor. Despite nearing their seventies, Dora and her posse have twice as much energy as the rest of us.
“Why don’t you leave Mr. Fluffskateer with me and come by when you’re finished?” I offer.
“I’d rather not. He hates being cooped up in that thing.”
A wave of annoyance washes over me. Before I can point out how I’m doing my best to work with her demands, a voice rings out from beyond my left shoulder, so close that I stiffen.
“I’m available to help,” Spencer says.