She's looking at me with undisguised curiosity, like I'm a puzzle she's dying to solve, and I feel heat rise in my cheeks.
"Emma, meet Lucy Reid," Colt says, his voice carrying that particular tone of affectionate exasperation that only comes from years of sibling warfare. "Lucy, this is my sister Emma. She used to help me run this place before she decided to go off and reproduce."
"Reproduce?" Emma laughs, the sound rich and infectious as she swats at his arm hard enough to make him shift Gucci protectively. "You make it sound like I'm one of Blackwell's prize heifers. I had a baby, you Neanderthal."
"Same thing," Colt mutters, but there's warmth lighting his eyes for the first time since he walked in.
"Emma, this is Lucy Reid. The one who's been keeping the clinic from falling apart while you're off playing house."
"Hi," I manage to squeeze into their rapid-fire banter, extending a hand.
She takes my hand with a grip that's firm and warm, the kind of handshake that says she's used to holding her own in a world full of ranchers and cowboys.
"And can I just say, thank God someone finally showed up who knows what they're doing. I was starting to worry Colt was going to run this place into the ground while I was on maternity leave."
"Hey," Colt protests, but there's no real heat in it, just the comfortable rhythm of siblings who've been giving each other hell for decades.
Emma ignores him completely, focusing on me with the kind of laser intensity that probably makes her a formidable opponent at poker night. "You know what? You look like someone who's been cooped up with grumpy veterinarian and sick animals for too long. When's the last time you had a proper night out? And I don't mean grabbing a burger at Murphy's counter."
"I... what?" The question catches me completely off guard.
"That's what I thought." Emma's grin is infectious, the kind that makes you want to smile back even when you're not sure what you're agreeing to.
"I've been trapped at home with a colicky baby for six weeks. I love my son to pieces, but if I don't get out of the house and have an adult conversation over something stronger than coffee, I'm going to start having philosophical discussions with the houseplants."
"That's... actually very relatable," I admit, a small laugh bursting out of me before I can stop it.
"See? You get it." Emma's grin widens as she studies me with the shrewd assessment of someone who's clearly her brother's sister.
"You know, in all his endless chatter about you, my dear brother somehow forgot to mention how pretty you are. Didn't you, Colt?"
"Emma," Colt says, a note of warning creeping into his voice that could freeze a Montana creek in July.
But Emma's on a roll now, clearly enjoying herself. "Oh, he's been talking about you quite a bit, actually. 'Lucy this, Lucy that, Lucy's so good with the animals, Lucy reorganized the whole filing system.' Very unlike him, usually I have to drag information out of him with a crowbar and a bottle of whiskey."
"Emma," Colt says again, and this time there's definitely a threat in his voice.
"Oh, hush." She waves him off like he's a pesky fly. "What do you say, Lucy? You and me, proper girls' night out. Nothing too scandalous."
She pauses, her grin turning positively wicked. "Well, maybe a little scandalous. It is Friday night in a small town, after all."
I open my mouth to decline automatically. This is exactly the kind of thing I should avoid. Getting more entangled with the people in this town, creating connections that will hurt to break.
But something about Emma's energy is magnetic, pulling at a part of me I thought I'd buried under two years of survival mode.
It's been so long since I've had a female friend, since I've done anything that felt remotely normal for someone my age. Since I've been invited anywhere, wanted anywhere.
"I don't really have anything to wear for—"
"Honey, you're talking to someone whose entire wardrobe currently consists of nursing bras and yoga pants withmystery stains I'm afraid to identify. We'll figure it out." Emma's eyes gleam with the kind of determination that probably moved mountains back in her pioneer ancestors' day.
"Besides, you deserve a night off. From what I hear around town, you've been working yourself into the ground."
"Emma, don't—". Colt growls.
"Don't what? Don't take your hardworking employee out for a well-deserved break?" Emma's voice is pure innocence, but there's something wicked dancing in her green eyes as she looks between Colt and me like she's watching a particularly entertaining tennis match.
"Or are you worried your assistant might discover there's more to Briarhaven than the inside of this clinic? Maybe meet some of the local... attractions?"
