“No, they don’t.”
“It’s a Bridger Bunch rule of thumb. If you’re dealing with a crisis that requires you to drive somewhere, taking someone along makes sense. You could have a flat. Or a fender-bender. Even if there’s no hiccup, you’ll have someone to talk to so you won’t worry as much.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Want me to tap somebody else to go instead?”
“No! Honest to God, Luis, I don’t need anyone to?—"
“Humor me. Please.”
She heaved a sigh. “Okay. I’m in the lot behind the Golden Nugget.” She headed in that direction. “I don’t remember you being so bossy.”
“I don’t remember you being so stubborn.” That wasn’t exactly true. He’d tried to find a way around her decision to cut off communication the day they’d said goodbye. What would’ve been so wrong about exchanging phone numbers?
But she’d been adamant. She hadn’t wanted anything distracting her from launching her career. He’d never met someone so determined to go it alone.
Her instincts regarding him had been on target, though. If he’d had her number, he would have texted. If she’d scheduled a clinic within a hundred miles, he would’ve made the drive. He’d been nuts about her. Still was, obviously.
Touching her just now had fired him up. Going with her to Missoula would fan that flame.
Maybe he’d end up getting burned, but there was no reality in which he’d send her off by herself. Logic was on his side. It was a holiday. Drivers got stupid on holidays.
Jordan beeped open the lock on her shiny silver F-350, tossed her small backpack behind the seat and hopped in. He climbed in on the passenger side.
A Kenny Chesney tune poured from the dashboard speakers. She hit a switch to end the music.
“Nice rig. Good branding.” Jordan Sterling, Quality Equine Training was lettered on each door panel.
“Thanks.” She backed out slowly, checking her mirrors. She might be upset, but obviously that didn’t make her careless when navigating a parking lot.
He respected that. He also respected her self-sufficiency. But it looked like she’d turned it into a religion. Why? What had happened to her?
His imagination started playing with the possibilities. Just like horses, people had reasons for their behavior. He had a hunch?—
“Have you texted Monty?”
“Uh, no. No, I haven’t. Doing it right now. Think I’ll call instead. He might miss a text.” He’d been so focused on her he’d almost blown his part of the deal.
Monty answered on the second ring. “Hey, bro—” The rest was drowned out by a mixture of country music and the boisterous crowd.
“Can you go someplace quieter? I can’t hear you.”
“Sure thing. Hang on.” The crunch, crunch of his booted feet indicated he was on the move. A few seconds later the background noise had faded considerably. “How’s that?”
“Better.”
“Where are you? We looked around and you weren’t on the courthouse steps anymore.”
“Jordan and I are driving up to Missoula to get her horse. The guy at the stable up there thinks he’s got a hoof abscess.”
“Uh-oh. I assume you’ll be taking him out to the ranch?”
“That’s the plan. It’ll be at least a couple of hours. I’ll call you when we’re a half-hour out.”
“Perfect. See if you can get a picture of his hoof and text it to me. That’ll be helpful.”
“Will do.”
