*Mind your own business.*
*That's a yes. Go get her, Tucker.*
I shove my phone in my pocket and head for my truck. My heart's racing, my palms are actually sweating, and I feel like a teenager about to ask out his first crush. But I'm doing this. I'm actually doing this.
The drive into Blackwater Falls takes fifteen minutes, and I spend the entire time rehearsing what I'm going to say. Trying to find words that don't sound desperate or crazy or like I'm some lonely rancher who can't handle a professional relationship.
But every version I come up with sounds worse than the last, so eventually I give up and decide I'll just wing it.
Marley's clinic is on the outskirts of town—a converted barn with a hand-painted sign that reads "Dr. M. Williams, DVM" hanging above the door. There's only one other car in the small parking lot, which I'm hoping means she's not swamped with clients.
I park my truck and sit there for a moment, my hands on the steering wheel, trying to convince myself this isn't the stupidest thing I've ever done.
*You showered for her this morning. You spent an hour showing her the ranch. This isn't any crazier than all of that.*
I climb out of the truck before I can talk myself out of it and walk toward the clinic door. My boots feel heavy, my legs feel like lead, and my heart is pounding so hard I'm surprised it's not visible through my shirt.
The door opens with a soft chime, and I step inside.
The clinic is small but clean, smelling like antiseptic and dog shampoo. There's a reception desk to my left, currentlyunmanned, and a small waiting area with plastic chairs and dog-eared magazines. A door behind the desk presumably leads to the exam rooms.
"I'll be right with you!" Marley's voice calls from somewhere in the back.
I stand there awkwardly, my hands in my pockets, trying to figure out what to do with myself. Sit down? Stay standing? Run back to my truck and pretend this never happened?
Before I can decide, Marley emerges from the back room. She's taken off her canvas jacket and is wearing just jeans and a blue t-shirt that says "I'm a vet, what's your superpower?" Her hair is still in that ponytail, her glasses are still slightly crooked, and when she sees me her eyes go wide.
"Tucker? Is everything okay? Is it Butterscotch?"
"No—he's fine. Everything's fine." I pull my hands out of my pockets, then immediately put them back. "I just... I needed to talk to you."
Her expression shifts from worried to confused. "About the catheter? I thought you were going to call at five—"
"Not about the catheter. About..." I take a breath. "About dinner."
"Dinner?"
"Yeah. Tomorrow night. After you do Butterscotch's final check." The words are coming out too fast, jumbled, but I can't stop them now. "I know it crosses professional boundaries, and I know you probably have policies about dating clients, and I know I should have just called or texted instead of showing up here like some—"
"Tucker." She takes a step closer, and there's something soft in her expression. "Are you asking me out?"
"Yeah. I am. I should have done it this morning at the ranch, but I chickened out, and then I was standing there watching you drive away and I realized I was being an idiot." I run a hand through my hair. "Wade said love is worth trying, which is insane because Wade's never said anything like that in his entire life, but he's right. And I know we barely know each other, and this might be moving too fast, but I haven't felt this way about anyone in seven years and I—"
"Tucker." She's smiling now, and those beautiful dimples are showing. "Breathe."
I breathe.
"I would love to have dinner with you tomorrow night."
I stare at her. "Really?"
"Really." She adjusts her glasses, "I was hoping you'd ask. But I didn't think you would because of the professional boundaries, and I couldn't ask because, well, those same boundaries, and—" She stops and laughs. "I guess we're both idiots."
"Yeah. We are." I can't help but smile. "So... dinner? There's a place in town, Maria's, that does good Italian. Nothing fancy, but—"
"That sounds perfect."
"I should let you get back to work," I say, even though I don't want to leave.
