"Y'all ready?" she asked.
"Yes, ma'am."
Pink crept into her cheeks. I'd been calling her ma'am for months now, and that reaction never got old.
She led us to exam room two, and I watched the way she moved—fluid and confident, ponytail swinging between her shoulder blades.
She knelt beside Judge, running her hands over his injured shoulder with gentle competence.
"How's our patient doing?" she asked.
"Good. Doing his exercises without complaint."
"That's great." She worked through the examination, noting improvement in the healing tissue. "The swelling's way down. Range of motion is excellent."
She demonstrated a stretch, extending Judge's front leg while supporting his shoulder. I moved in to watch, and our knees bumped.
She didn't pull away.
"Like this?" I mimicked her hand position on Judge's other side.
"Exactly." She reached over to adjust my grip, her fingers warm against mine. "Just support the joint here."
Close enough to see the freckles scattered across her nose. Close enough to catch the little hitch in her breath when my thumb brushed the inside of her wrist.
I could ask her right now. Just say the words.
"Got it," I managed instead.
Judge let out a long, dramatic sigh and rolled onto his side.
Lacey laughed. "I think someone's done with his therapy."
"He's milking it." I straightened, pulse hammering. Do it. Just ask. "Lacey, I was wondering—"
"Lacey, I was wondering—" "Lacey?" The receptionist's voice crackled through the intercom. "Dr. Bev needs you in treatment. The Doberman's IV came out." Lacey's expression shifted immediately—professional, focused. "I should—" "Go. It's fine."
She gave me an apologetic smile and stepped out.
I stood there in the exam room with Judge, who was now sitting up and staring at me with what I swear was judgment in those brown eyes.
"Don't start," I muttered.
His tail thumped once against the floor.Coward.
By the time Lacey came back, the moment was gone. She made notes in Judge's chart, confirmed Monday's appointment, and I paid at the desk.
Loaded Judge into the truck and sat there for a minute, looking through the clinic windows as she went back to work.
Next time. I'd ask next time.
Judge huffed from the passenger seat.
"Yeah, I know," I muttered, and started the engine.
By Thursday evening, I still couldn't get her out of my head. Dell was finishing up paperwork when I grabbed my keys.
"Heading out for my Highway 81 run," I said.
