Chapter 2 #2
Great impression, Sterling. Real professional.
I grabbed the carrier, jogging back to my truck. The puppy whimpered when I set it in the back seat.
“If anyone asks, you made me late. This is entirely your fault.” I cranked the engine, already calculating drive time.
I pulled onto Main Street, one hand on the wheel, the other bracing the carrier when it slid during turns. The puppy had gone quiet, either settling down or too exhausted to protest anymore.
Town gave way to open valley. Green pastures rolled past my window, dotted with grazing cattle. Mountains rose in the distance, their peaks still holding snow despite the early summer warmth.
Sullivan Farm's red barn came into view on the left, tucked against a slope where the creek cut through. The farmhouse sat higher up with its picture-perfect porch, chickens wandering the yard.
I pulled up near the barn, angling the truck so it sat in the shade. Killed the engine and lowered all four windows.
The puppy didn't stir.
“Stay put. I'll be back.”
Like it has anywhere else to go.
I grabbed my vet bag from the truck bed, already scanning the property for Walt. His truck was parked by the house, but the porch was empty. Usually he'd be waiting, ready to walk me through whatever minor concerns he'd noticed since the last visit.
The barn door was open.
I headed that direction, boots crunching on gravel. A goat bleated somewhere nearby. The chickens scattered as I passed, clucking their disapproval.
“Walt?”
No answer.
I stepped into the barn's cooler dimness, letting my eyes adjust. Buddy's stall was on the right, the old gelding dozing in the back corner like he always did.
“You around?”
Movement exploded from the shadows near the tack room straight ahead.
A goat shot past me. Black and white, ears pinned back, moving like it had somewhere important to be.
Then a woman barreled around the corner, rubber boots pounding the dirt floor, overalls streaked with mud and what might've been manure. She spotted the goat making a break for the open door and lunged sideways, arms outstretched.
“Chip! Don't you dare—”
The goat darted left. The woman followed, lost her footing, and slammed directly into me.
We went down in a tangle of limbs.
I hit the ground hard, my bag flying sideways. She landed half on top of me, one elbow digging into my ribs, hair plastered to her face with sweat.
“Oh my God, I'm so—” She scrambled backward, boot catching on my shin. “Sorry! I didn't see you—”
The goat bleated triumphantly from somewhere outside.
“Chip!” She shoved hair out of her face, leaving a streak of dirt across her forehead. “That little—”
Her eyes met mine.
Everything slowed. The distant bleating, the chickens clucking outside, the sound of my own breathing—it all faded into background noise.
Hazel. Her eyes were hazel, flecked with gold in the barn's dusty light filtering through the open door. Light freckles dusted across her nose and cheeks like someone had splattered paint there.
She was frustrated—I could see it in the tight set of her jaw, the way her brows pulled together—but her lips quirked up at the corners.
Almost a smile. Like despite everything, despite the escaped goat and the collision and the fact that she was currently sprawled half on top of a stranger, some part of her found this funny.
I almost forgot her elbow was digging into my ribcage.
Almost.
“I'm so sorry.” She repeated as she pushed up on one hand, which drove her elbow deeper for half a second before she shifted her weight. “I didn't—I was just trying to catch—”
She untangled herself, one knee braced on either side of my hip as she tried to stand without stepping on me. Her boot caught on my bag. She wobbled, grabbed my shoulder for balance, and heat shot through my chest that had nothing to do with the impact.
“Sorry. Again. God.” She finally got her feet under her, stumbling backward.
Say something. Anything.
She was gorgeous. Genuinely gorgeous in a way that made my mouth go dry and my mediocre-at-best social skills completely abandon me.
“You always assault people in your barn?” The words came out before I had the time to process them. “Or is this special treatment?”
Ouch. I winced internally.
She blinked. “I—what?”
“I'm here for Buddy's checkup.” I stood up, brushing dirt off my jeans. “Nine-thirty. Which was twenty minutes ago, but—”
Her brows furrowed. Then she laughed, bright and surprised, the sound bouncing off the barn walls.
“Wow.” She crossed her arms, shaking her head. “Uncle Walt said you were rough around the edges, but I wasn't expecting that.”
Heat crawled up my neck. “I didn't—”
“'You always assault people in your barn?'“ She mimicked my tone with uncanny accuracy, raising one eyebrow. “Yeah, it's how I greet everyone. Really sets the tone.”
“Sorry, I'm not—” I stopped, running a hand through my hair. Those hazel eyes were still fixed on me, and I had zero skills for handling that kind of distraction.
Try again. Without the attitude this time.
“Can we start over?” I cleared my throat. “I'm Cal. Doc Sterling. Here for Buddy's checkup.”
Her expression softened. “Rosalie. Walt's niece.” She wiped her hand on her overalls before extending it. “Everyone calls me Rosie.”
I held her hand a second longer than necessary.
Focus.
“Where's Walt?”
She blinked at the shift. “He left a few days ago. Should be in St. Louis tonight. He's meeting Barbara in person for the first time.”
“Barbara?”
“The widow he's been video chatting with for months.” She said it like I should know this already. “He didn't mention her?”
“No.”
Why would he? I never make small talk during appointments.
“Well, he's smitten. It's adorable.” She glanced toward the barn door where the goat had escaped. “So I'm in charge now. You're stuck with me instead.”
Stuck with her. I grabbed my bag from where it had landed near the tack room. “Great.” The word came out sharper than I intended.
Her smile flickered. “Buddy's in the first stall. I assume you know what you're doing?”
“It's an annual checkup. I've done a few.”
“Right. Of course.” She crossed her arms. “Do you need anything? Water? Help? A personality?”
I looked at her. She looked back, chin lifted.
Fair enough.
“I'm good.”
“All right. Well, I'll be chasing goats.” She turned on her heel. “That seems to be my life now.”
Her boots thumped across the barn floor as she left. I stood there for a moment, staring after her.
What just happened?
Buddy snorted as I opened the gate, bumping my shoulder with his nose.
“I'm an idiot,” I told Buddy quietly, running my hands down his front legs. “Complete mess.”
He shifted his weight, patient.
“She tackled me and I made it weird. That's a talent, right? Making normal situations awkward?” I moved to his hind legs, checking for heat or swelling. “Should've just said hello like a normal person. But no, I had to—”
Buddy huffed a breath.
“Whatever.” I straightened, running my hands along his back. “I don't have time for small talk anyway. Too much to do.”
She's a client. That's all.
I crouched down, working my way through the rest of the exam.
“You're good. Joints look great for eighteen. Walt's been taking good care of you.”
I pulled out my notes, scribbling observations I'd forget otherwise. Heart rate normal. No lameness. Teeth showed expected wear but nothing concerning.
A high-pitched squeal cut through the barn's quiet.
I froze, pen hovering over my notes.
“Oh my God!” Rosie's voice carried from outside, bright with delight. “Where did you come from? Look at you! You're so cute!”
Oh no. The puppy. I'd left it in the truck.
It needed calm and quiet. Rosie didn't strike me as either of those things.
“Aren't you just the sweetest little thing?”
I shoved my notes into my bag and bolted for the door.