Baby: Sure you are
Josie: Baby’s probably right. They’re going to want you close.
Baby: “Close” is a nice word for it. My money’s on only one bed.
Willa: There will NOT be only one bed. I’m getting my own room. Professional boundaries, remember?
Baby: Professional boundaries went out the window when Beau McCrae got his hands under your skirt.
Willa: HOW DO YOU KNOW ABOUT THAT?
Baby: Honey, you two weren’t exactly subtle. Half the bar saw that man’s hand disappear under your skirt.
Josie: BABY!
Baby: What? I’m just saying, if she’s already breaking rules on date one…
Willa: I’m going to work now. You two are impossible.
Josie: Have a good day! Love you!
Baby:
The Sweet GrassClinic is quiet when I arrive, the morning sun just starting to filter through the windows. Dr. Sage is already at her desk, her dark hair pulled back in a neat bun, reading glasses perched on her nose. Clearly doing the crossword.
“Morning, Willa,” she says without looking up. “You’re here early.”
“Morning, Dr. Sage.” I hover in the doorway, suddenly nervous. “Do you have a minute?”
She looks up, her sharp eyes assessing. “Of course. Come in, sit.”
I sink into the chair across from her desk, my hands fidgeting in my lap. “I wanted to put in a request for the Denver assignment. The APBRA championship next week.”
Her eyebrows rise slightly. “The one with Pack McCrae?”
My face heats. Of course she knows. Everyone knows. “Yes, ma’am.”
Her gaze flicks to the courier envelope on her desk. “I got the request from Mr. Lane this morning. Apparently, the pack requested you too.” She sets down her pen and leans back in her chair. “Willa, I’m going to be direct with you. Workplaceromances are complicated, especially in our field. The power dynamics, the professional boundaries—they’re there for good reasons.”
“I know, but?—”
“But,” she continues, holding up a hand, “you’re also an adult. And as long as you’re being safe—both physically and professionally—I support you.” She pauses. “Are you being safe?”
“Yes,” I manage. “We have… rules. Boundaries.”
The corner of her mouth twitches. “Rules and boundaries. How’s that working out for you?”
I think about last night, about Beau’s fingers inside me, about the way I begged him not to stop. “It’s… a work in progress.”
She laughs. “I’m sure it is. All right, I’ll do what I can about getting you on the Denver assignment. But Willa,” her expression turns serious, “be careful. Not just with your heart, but with your career. You’ve worked too hard to let anything jeopardize it.”
“I will. Thank you, Dr. Sage.”
“Now,” she says, standing and pulling an emergency kit from the storage cabinet, “I need you to take an emergency call with me out at Meadowlark Ranch. Not sure what’s going on exactly, but the landowner says there’s a dog stuck in a well. It isn’t hurt—they just can’t get it out. I’ve got to swing by the neighbor’s farm first—apparently, one of McMan’s pigs decided it was time to give birth without warning. I’ll meet you at Meadowlark. Go ahead and see what’s happening and call me as soon as you know. I’ll be right behind you.”
The drive to Meadowlark Ranch takes twenty minutes, winding through countryside that’s achingly familiar. I used to ride my bike out here as a kid, exploring the endless acres with my brother and his friends.
With Charlie. His property is only a mile or so away from the old Meadowlark Ranch.
