“Thanks.” Rylie looked up, face flushed, hair full of leaves, grinning. “Teamwork.”
Yeah. Teamwork. That’s totally why my pulse was in my throat.
“Come on,” I said, offering her a hand. “Let’s get her back before she decides to unionize.”
Her hand was freezing. I hauled her up gently, even though I probably could’ve lifted her one-handed if I had to.
We trudged back toward the vet clinic trailer. Coming out of the trees, the trailer looked even more pitiful next to the town’s brand-new fire station. Like a sad little office pod someone parked on a foundation and prayed over.
“It’s temporary,” Rylie said, catching my expression. “Dr. Hanson’s building a real clinic.”
“How long’s temporary?”
“It’s anyone’s guess. You know…permits.” She cuddled Snowball closer. “It’s not much, but it works.”
Inside, the trailer was cramped but clean—like someone had done their best with what was essentially a hallway disguised as an office. Rylie set Snowball on the exam table. The cat immediately tucked a paw under her chin and started grooming like nothing dramatic had just happened.
“You’re a menace,” Rylie told her, but she sounded proud.
I should’ve left. I’d caught the cat. Lunch was waiting. Probably cold, but I was starving.
Rylie went to the fridge, pulling out a vial and syringe. “Just need to give her insulin before I take her back.”
I watched her work—steady hands, soft voice, whole gentle-professional thing going on. The cat didn’t even blink.
“There.” She tossed the syringe. “All done.” Then she turned to me, tucking hair behind her ear like she didn’t know it was lethal. “Thank you. Really.”
“It wasn’t how I planned to spend my afternoon,” I said.
Her shoulders sagged.
“But I’m glad we found her,” I added, “Mrs. Porter would’ve had the whole town searching by sunset.”
“You haveno idea.” She laughed—nervous but real. “I was already imagining my exit interview.”
“First day solo?”
“That obvious?”
I glanced at the clock. “You closing up after you drop her off?”
“Yeah, no appointments today.” She gestured vaguely toward a door. “Why?”
Before I could stop myself, I said, “New honky-tonk opened down the street. The fire crew’s there now. Want to grab a drink?”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Are you asking me out?”
Was I? Apparently, yes. My mouth had gotten ahead of me—again.
“I’m asking if you want a drink,” I said. “Because you deserve it.”
She watched me like she was trying to figure out if I was joking.
Then—she smiled. “Okay. Let me drop off Snowball first. Thirty minutes?”
“Yeah. I’ll meet you there.”
I got out of there before I said anything stupid enough to undo the whole moment. Walking back to the station, I pulled out my phone and texted the group chat.
