"I'm a veterinarian," I answer confidently. "Equine, specifically."
Dar's eyes light up. "A horse doctor? How wonderful! And convenient." Her eyes flick over to Trigger before returning to mine as she leans forward. "What made you choose horses?"
I see where this is going. She must think he married me for my skill set, for this merger.
"They're honest," I say, and it's the first true thing I've said all evening. "They don't lie about what they're feeling. If something's wrong, they tell you. All you have to know is how to listen." I pause, running my thumb along the stem of my glass.
This dream wasn't always all mine. It was something I pursued to impress my father. It's why I hate the assumption she is forming about me because of the man sitting on my left. That I did this for someone besides me, and that's not the entire truth.If anything, I stayed for me because animals give me something people never could. Trust. I look up, meeting their gaze.
"I spent too much of my life trying to decode what people really meant, reading between the lines, wondering what they weren't saying. With horses, there are no lines. Just pure, unfiltered communication. A mare who's colicking doesn't care about my credentials or whether I had a bad day. She just needs me to understand her, to help her. And when you figure out what they're trying to tell you, and you make it better..." I stop, searching for the words. "That moment when the pain leaves their eyes…that's the most honest transaction I've ever been part of. No pretense. Just trust."
"She's brilliant at it," Trigger adds, his thumb drawing idle shapes across my hand. "I watched her single-handedly identify a case of strangles. Took her less than an hour to trace the outbreak back to a visiting horse whose trailer hadn't been properly sanitized during transportation. She moved through that barn like she could see what everyone else was missing. Checked water sources, feed storage, and tack room protocol. Had the entire facility locked down and a treatment plan in place before some vets would've even confirmed the diagnosis."
I don't know what to make of the pride I hear in his voice, but I try not to let it distract me from focusing on Dar's line of questioning. I think she's testing us. She knows we’re newlyweds, and I don't have to know her personally to tell she's a master at reading people. In a lot of ways, I feel like I'm sitting at dinner with my father, his knowing gaze sifting through the truth in my lies. Lucky for me, that story was not a lie. I am good at my job. It's one of the few things I'm certain about.
"Is that so?" This time, when I look up, Rohan is definitely watching me. His eyes are dark, almost black in the candlelight, and there's an intensity there that makes my pulse kick up.Not attraction, something sharper. Assessment, maybe, like he's cataloging details, filing them away.
"We've been having trouble with one of our mares," Dar says. "She's pregnant, but something feels off. Our local vet says everything is fine, but a mother knows." She glances at Rohan. "Would you mind taking a look while you're here? Professional opinion?"
"Of course," I say. "I'd be happy to."
"My son doesn't talk much during dinner," Dar says, as if reading my mind. She glances toward Rohan with unmistakable maternal affection. "He prefers to observe. Don't you, mijo?"
Son.The word recalibrates everything. I'd assumed... Well, I’m not sure what I assumed. But looking at them now, I can see it: the same sharp cheekbones, the same way they both hold themselves like they own not just this table but the very air around it.
"Someone has to," Rohan says. His tone is teasing, but there's also an edge to it. "You talk enough for both of us."
Dar laughs. "He's very protective," she adds, turning back to me, something shifting behind her smile. "Of the business, of our land. Of family..." She lets the word hang there, weighted.
"Mother." Rohan tries to keep his voice even and light, but I can tell there's a warning in it.
"You'll forgive my son. He takes after his father, too serious, always thinking three steps ahead. I've told him a thousand times: business is important, but so is enjoying the moment," she says lightheartedly, but because I know her kind, I know it's anything but. She takes a long sip from her wine. "Did I miss the story about how the two of you met?" she changes the subject.
"We're neighbors," I answer.
At the same time, Trigger says, "At school."
Her eyes dart between us, and I feel like we've made a slip, but Triggers recovers without missing a breath. "We officiallymet at school, but our families have been neighbors for a few generations."
"Oh." Her eyebrows tug together. "I didn't realize you grew up in the States. Asha, it's a beautiful name. Sanskrit, isn't it? It means hope, if I remember correctly."
I swallow my wine. "Yes, that's correct. My father is Indian, and my mother was a mix of many heritages. She died when I was young."
Something in her gaze shifts, and for a moment, it feels like she's left us completely. "I'm sorry. I know how hard it is to lose people you care for deeply, especially parents. I lost my father when I was young too."
Silence settles over us, but it's not the comfortable kind from earlier. The air feels thick, and Dar's face has gone eerily still, her eyes fixed on some point beyond us, and when she finally moves, it's only to take a slow sip of her wine.
Then Mateo is back. "Sorry for the delay. There was traffic," he says, reclaiming his seat at the far end. "I had Noro take the bags to their room."
"Thank you, Mateo," she says, rising in one fluid motion. "You've all had such a long day between the drive and the tour. Let's get you to your room. There will be plenty of time to talk more over the coming days."
Days?I never asked how long this trip was supposed to last, but I suppose that's because I didn't expect it to last days. Usually, these types of deals are pretty much a sure thing before the meet and greet ever occurs. Both companies have vetted the other, thorough research has been done, and all that's left is a vibe check. First impressions can make or break a deal, and in some way, I can't help but feel like I'm somehow responsible for fumbling this.
"Thank you for the meal," Trigger says, rising from his chair. "Everything was wonderful."
"Yes, thank you," I add quickly, doing the same. "Goodnight, Dar."
She nods, but her expression remains unreadable. "Buenas noches."
