Holly
I hope your day is better than mine. I’m stuck in some clinic in the middle of nowhere without any patients.
Iflip my phone around and open up the camera, angling it just right so Grayson gets a view of my face and the empty waiting room.
Grayson: I’ll come be your patient. I’m not above chopping my arm off if it means I get to see you again.
Grayson: Especially when you look that pretty.
The butterflies in my stomach take flight, and I pull my bottom lip between my teeth to temper the smile.
A compliment like that coming from a man who spends his days with Dasher and Dancer? I feel like you might be biased.
A laugh rattles out of me when I click the picture. Grayson’s squatting low to the ground, wearing a backward ball cap with a tuft of brown hair sticking out the front. His blue eyes match his blue T-shirt, and he looks like he’s sweating. A sweaty Grayson is a sight to behold. But then I see the goat that’s resting its chin on his shoulder. As if it saw him pull out the camera and say “cheese!” The rest of the goats are gathered around him, curiosity getting the best of them as they watch his every move.
Looks like you have quite the entourage.
Grayson: They’re alright. Helped me fix a flat tractor tire this morning. Not as fun to be around as you are though.
I’ll bet they don’t throw chicken feed at your feet.
Grayson: Small price to pay when it means I get to spend the day with you.
Chapter Fourteen
Grayson
Ismooth back the sides of my hair, desperately trying to tame the stubborn strands into place before realizing it’s a lost cause. I reach for my cowboy hat, thankful I chose my cleanest one for today and slip it on, adjusting the brim before I snag the handles of the bagged lunch that rests in my passenger seat.
My truck door creaks as I push it open, squinting as the high noon sun beats down on me. I hop the curb and take a few steps toward the clinic just as the door swings open. An elderly couple, likely as old as Pops and Gran, step out. I reach for the handle and hold the door wide, offering a polite nod as they pass. I glance over my shoulder to make sure no one else is walking up then step inside.
Cool air greets me with a rush, and I pull my hat from my head to rest it against my chest. The receptionist sits at the front desk with the phone tucked between her chin and shoulder, and I smile politely when her eyes flick to the door. She does a double take, blushing a bit when sherealizes I’ve caught her. I take a seat at one of the empty chairs, praying that the clinic closes for lunch and that no one else will be coming for a while.
Once she’s off the phone, I stand to approach the desk. “Good afternoon, ma’am. I was wondering if Dr. Carri—”
“Grayson?”
Holly’s surprised voice cuts through mine, and the receptionist and I both turn to see Holly walking out of one of the exam rooms.
My breath hitches in my throat at the sight of her. A purple summer dress with some flowery pattern on it peeks out from beneath her white doctor’s coat. It falls to her knees, and the bottom has these ruffles on it that swish when she moves.
Her long blonde hair is sleek today, falling in straight panels down her back. There’s a pink tinge to her cheeks, and I sure as hell hope it’s from seeing me and not the makeup she wears.
“Hi, Holly,” I rasp, taking a few steps around the clinic desk to be closer to her.
She looks at the receptionist briefly and hands her the file that she was carrying. “She’s getting dressed and will just need a follow-up in six months.” The receptionistnods, and Holly steps away from her, coming into my space.
“Hi,” she says, a little breathlessly, and I know we must look like two lovesick high schoolers the way we’re standing here gawking at each other.
“I brought you lunch,” I tell her, holding up the canvas bag. “I won’t lie and pretend I cooked it myself. My mom made it.”
“You brought me lunch?” She rips the bag from my hands, a mix of wonder and confusion fills her face as she rifles through the containers. She pulls out the first Tupperware and flips it open, a low moan spilling from her lips when she smells my mom’s fried chicken.
“Wasn’t sure if you ate already, but I figured it was worth a shot.”
She flips through the rest of the bag before pausing and looking up at me. “I can’t believe you brought me lunch.” Her voice falls to a whisper as she says, “No one’s ever done that for me before.”
I internally beat my chest, proud to be able to be the first man to do this for her. I can’t wait to prove to her that bringing her food is the bare minimum, not special treatment. “Not a big deal.” I know Holly’s fixated on her upcoming return to the ER and already building herself up for failure. I needed to come this way to pick up somesupplies from the feed mill, and I wanted to see her. My mom was over the moon excited when I asked her to whip up a picnic lunch.
