"Is it a date?"
"Yeah, Bug. It's a date."
"Are you nervous?"
"Terrified."
"That's okay. In the movies, people are always nervous on first dates. But then they have a good time and fall in love and live happily ever after."
"I don't know about happily ever after—"
"I like Dr. Marley," Emma interrupts. "She's nice, and she cares for Butterscotch like he's important."
"He is important."
"I know. But not everyone thinks animals are important. Dr. Marley does." Emma throws her arms around my neck. "I think she's perfect for you, Daddy."
I hug her tight, this brave little girl who's been my entire world for seven years, and I think about how much everything is about to change. But maybe change isn't always bad. Maybe sometimes it's exactly what you need.
"Come on," I say, standing up and taking her hand. "Let's go check on Butterscotch. And you can tell him all about how Dr. Marley is coming to see him tomorrow."
We walk toward the stable hand-in-hand, Emma chattering excitedly about what she's going to say to Marley tomorrow, and I think about how Wade fell in love in two weeks and how that seemed impossible but now doesn't seem so crazy after all.
Because I'm pretty sure I'm already falling for Marley Williams.
And for the first time in seven years, that doesn't scare me.
It feels right.
Chapter 6 - Marley
I've changed my outfit three times, and I'm starting to think I should just cancel.
Not because I don't want to go—God, I want to go so badly it's actually pathetic—but because I'm standing in my bedroom at 8:47 AM on a Saturday morning having a full-blown crisis about what to wear to check on a horse, and that's not normal behavior for a professional veterinarian.
The first outfit was too formal. Slacks and a blouse like I'm going to a job interview instead of a ranch. The second was too casual, yoga pants that made me look like I'd just rolled out of bed.
Now I'm wearing jeans and a green sweater that brings out my eyes (according to my best friend Rachel, who I called at seven this morning in a panic), with my hair down instead of in its usual ponytail because Tucker's only ever seen it up and maybe it's time to mix things up.
Except now I'm second-guessing the hair decision because what if it gets in my way during the exam? What if I look like I'm trying too hard?
I adjust my glasses in the mirror. They're the black-framed ones I usually reserve for dates, not the wire-rimmed ones I wear for work and take a deep breath.
This is fine. Everything is fine. I'm going to the ranch to do a final check on Butterscotch, which is a completely normal professional activity. The fact that his owner asked me to dinner last night and I said yes and now I can't stop thinking about it is irrelevant to the medical care I'm about to provide.
Except I already crossed all my boundaries the moment I said yes to Tucker Hayes standing in my clinic looking nervous andadorable and saying things like "Wade said love is worth trying" like that wasn't the most romantic thing I'd heard in years.
My phone buzzes on the dresser. A text from Rachel: *Stop overthinking it. You look hot. He's going to lose his mind. Now GO.*
I grab my bag. The professional one with all my equipment, not the cute purse I was considering bringing, and head out to my truck before I can change my outfit a fourth time.
The drive to Promise Ranch takes twenty minutes, and I spend the entire time alternating between excitement and terror. I haven't been on a date in over a year, not since I moved to Blackwater Falls and decided to focus on building my practice instead of my nonexistent love life. And before that, there was Richard, which ended so badly I swore off men entirely for six months.
But Tucker isn't Richard. Tucker doesn't wear expensive suits and lie about having a wife. Tucker showers before the vet arrives and texts about horse urination and talks about his daughter like she's the center of his universe.
Tucker is different.
I pull up to the ranch at 8:58 AM. Two minutes early, which is better than being late but also means I'm going to have to sit in my truck for two minutes trying to compose myself.
