"You're a lifesaver." I release Romeo into the exam room and grab a peppermint mocha from her tray. The sweet warmth floods my tongue, but it doesn't chase away the restless energy that's been plaguing me since yesterday.
"So." Carly leans against the counter, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "I heard through the grapevine that Wyatt Callahan graced you with his presence yesterday."
My pulse quickens at his name. "He brought in an injured foal. Just a routine call."
"Routine?" She laughs. "Honey, that man hasn't set foot in town since Halloween. Mrs. Peterson nearly fainted when she saw his truck at the feed store last month. So spill. What's he like?"
Images flash through my mind. The way his jeans hugged his lean hips. How his voice dropped to that gravelly whisper when he was close. The barely contained power in his movements, like a predator pretending to be tame.
"Difficult," I say, hoping she doesn't notice the breathiness in my voice. "Stubborn. The strong, silent type who probably thinks emotions are a sign of weakness."
"Mmm." Carly's grin widens. "Sounds like exactly the kind of man you need to unwrap this Christmas."
"Carly!" Heat floods my cheeks. "I am not unwrapping anyone. Especially not someone like him."
"Someone like what? Gorgeous? Built like a lumberjack? Rich enough to own half the county?"
"Someone who looks at me like I'm an inconvenience." The lie tastes bitter. Wyatt hadn't looked at me like I was inconvenient. He'd looked at me like he wanted to devour me whole, and God help me, some traitorous part of my body had wanted to let him.
My phone buzzes against the counter. Matty's name flashes on the screen, and my heart does something stupid in my chest.
Matty
Need your professional opinion on the Dry Creek barn situation. Tomorrow morning work for you?
I stare at the message, my pulse hammering. Why would Matty need a veterinary opinion on barn construction? Unless Wyatt specifically asked for me. The thought makes my stomach flip with equal parts dread and anticipation.
"Work text?" Carly peers over my shoulder before I can hide the screen.
"Matty wants me to look at something tomorrow."
"Matty works for Wyatt." Her eyebrows shoot up. "Interesting."
"It's just work." I type back trying to sound professional.
Emmy
What time?
Matty
Wyatt will be there. Of course he will. My fingers tremble slightly as I respond with:
Emmy
I'll be there.
"Just work, huh?" Carly's voice drips with amusement. "Then why do you look like you're about to hyperventilate?"
Because the thought of seeing Wyatt again makes my entire body hum with nervous energy. Because I spent half the night wondering what his hands would feel like on my skin. Because, despite every rational thought in my head, I want to see him again with an intensity that scares me.
My mother's voice echoes in my memory, sharp with old pain:Men like your father don't change, Emmy. They take what they want and leave destruction in their wake. Promise me you'll be smarter than I was.
I'd made that promise fifteen years ago, standing in our empty house while Mom packed the last of our belongings. Dad had left for his secretary, taking our security and her self-worth with him. The lesson stuck: powerful men were dangerous. They charmed you, claimed you, then discarded you when something shinier came along.
But Wyatt isn't charming. There's nothing polished or smooth about him. He's all rough edges and barely leashed intensity, and that somehow makes him more dangerous, not less.
"Earth to Emmy." Carly waves a hand in front of my face. "You're doing that thing where you disappear into your head."
