Nothing. He just grinned and stuffed his hands in the pockets of his Levi’s. “And it’s so sunny, you don’t even notice the cold,” he continued, like he worked for the Eagle Mountain tourist commission. “Although I like that cape thing you’re wearing.”
Finally, she let out a soft laugh. “Are we going to address the elephant in the room?” She gave a quick gesture toward the chair. “The rolling elephant.”
“You treat elephants at this school? Because I have to admit that in my years of training, I’ve yet to work on an elephant.”
She angled her head, not sure where to go with this. “Wade.”
He eyed her for a moment. “Did you think I didn’t know?”
“I…well, yeah. I was on a horse when we met.”
“I’m Southern, not dumb,” he joked. When she didn’t laugh, he tipped his head. “I saw the harness and sensed Nicole was as much an escort as a friend. After you left, I noticed a ramp in the stables. Bein’ the math genius I am, I put two and two together and came up with…”
“Girl in a wheelchair,” she finished when he didn’t.
“I was thinking more along the lines of smokeshow who obviously doesn’t let life beat her down, is probably stronger than I ever will be, and has the same heart for animals that I do.”
She felt her jaw loosen at the litany of compliments. Did he say…smokeshow?
“Wow. No one ever…” She couldn’t even finish, so she just closed her eyes. “Sometimes I hate that harness, but not today.”
“Why would you hate it?” he asked.
“Hate is the wrong word. I love that it allows me to ride, I just wish I could get on the horse without two men and a prayer helping me, and that I could actually feel secure enough to ride alone. But thank you, Wade, for all your compliments.”
He smiled. “I mean it.” Then he looked past her toward the buildings. “Now, I can’t wait to see this bee-yoo-tiful school and the tour better include animals. Also, coffee. I drove from Park City in my uncle’s rented SUV and was so distracted by nature’s handiwork that I never stopped. Is there caffeine around?”
“In a painfully cute coffee shop called the Canine Café,” she told him, her heart lifting at his utterly wonderful attitude. Classy, positive, easy.
Where did this guy come from?
“Canine Café?” He snorted. “Yes, please.”
“Right on the other side of the quad,” she said, giving her wheels a push.
He kept up with her, giving her no chance to ponder this unexpected turn of events as he peppered her with questions. And he didn’t offer to push, which sheloved. There was nothing worse than being wheeled when she could do it herself.
They moved along the main sidewalk that connected the teaching barn to the classroom wing, their breath visible in the frosty air. She pointed out the rehab building—a low, modern structure with glass walls and a pool used for equine hydrotherapy.
“That’s where we do physical therapy and conditioning,” she said. “The horses love it. The goats…not so much.”
“Goats never cooperate,” Wade said with mock solemnity. “I did a rotation once where a goat bit my shoelace and removed my shoe smack in the middle of surgery prep.”
She laughed. “That’s a goat for you.”
“I was washed and ready, so I had to finish the procedure wearing one shoe like a sad pirate.”
She giggled, wheeling alongside him as they reached the Canine Café.
“I highly recommend the caramel latte,” she said.
“Two of those coming right up.”
While he jogged ahead to the window and ordered drinks, she waited, soaking in the quiet of the coffee shop on winter break. A moment later, he returned, holding one cup out to her. “Caramel latte for the future Dr. Hale.”
“Three more years until I get the title,” she said, adding her thanks for the coffee. “But you’re way ahead of me.”
“I feel like I’ve been in school forever,” he said, blowing into the hole in the plastic lid. “I really considered just getting the DVM and starting to work, but the oncology department lured me in.”
