Except Tucker's already outside waiting for me, leaning against the stable door with his arms crossed, wearing jeans and a flannel shirt that makes his shoulders look even broader.
So much for composing myself.
I climb out of the truck, my bag in one hand, trying to look professional and competent and not at all like I spent the last hour having a wardrobe crisis.
"Morning," Tucker calls, walking toward me.
"Morning." My voice comes out slightly breathless, which is ridiculous because I literally just walked ten feet from my truck. "How's Butterscotch?"
"Good. Really good, actually. He's been eating and drinking normally, no signs of distress. I removed the catheter last night like you instructed. Took me three tries, but I got it."
"Three tries isn't bad for your first time." I fall into step beside him as we walk toward the stable. "Most people panic and call me back."
"I considered it. But Emma was watching and I didn't want to look incompetent in front of my seven-year-old."
I laugh despite my nerves. "Understandable. Nothing worse than losing credibility with a seven-year-old."
"Exactly." He glances at me, and there's something warm in his expression. "You look nice. Different. Good different."
Heat creeps up my neck. "Thanks. I, uh, figured I'd skip the ponytail today."
"I like it." He says it simply like it's just an observation and not something that makes my heart race. "Emma's excited to meet you, by the way. She's been up since six preparing her presentation."
"Presentation?"
"Of the unicorn picture. She takes her art very seriously." He opens the stable door and gestures for me to go first. "She's probably going to ask you a million questions. She's... enthusiastic."
"I like enthusiastic."
We step inside the stable, and immediately I hear a small voice call out, "Is that her? Is that Dr. Marley?"
A little girl appears from one of the stalls. Pigtails, pink boots, gap-toothed smile, and I recognize her immediately from Tucker's descriptions.
"Hi!" Emma runs up to me, clutching a piece of paper in both hands. "I'm Emma. I drew you a picture to say thank you for helping Butterscotch."
"Emma, let Dr. Marley put down her bag first," Tucker says gently.
"It's okay." I set my bag down and crouch to Emma's eye level. "I've been looking forward to seeing this picture."
Emma's face lights up, and she unfolds the paper, revealing a crayon drawing of a horse with a horn on its head, a little girl with pigtails standing next to it, and a woman with glasses holding what I assume is a stethoscope.
"That's you," Emma says, pointing to the woman with glasses. "And that's me. And that's Butterscotch as a unicorn because he told me he always wanted to be one."
"It's beautiful," I say, and I mean it.
The drawing is exactly what you'd expect from a seven-year-old. Slightly disproportionate, enthusiastically colored, but there's something about the way Emma drew me with a smile, standing close to her and Butterscotch, that makes my chest tight. "Can I keep it?"
"Really?" Emma's eyes go wide. "You want to keep it?"
"Absolutely. I'm going to hang it in my clinic so all my patients can see it."
Emma throws her arms around my neck in a hug that's so sudden and fierce it nearly knocks me over. "Thank you for saving Butterscotch. Daddy said you're the best vet in the whole world."
I glance up at Tucker, who's turned slightly red. "I said you were very good at your job," he clarifies. "Emma added the 'whole world' part."
"But you are the best," Emma insists, pulling back to look at me seriously. "Butterscotch is all better because of you. And Daddy's really happy, which means you're definitely the best."
"Emma—" Tucker starts, but she's already running back toward Butterscotch's stall, calling for the horse to come see Dr. Marley.
