The flirtation had crackling between us all damn day after that.
Every time our hands brushed passing instruments. When I'd reached around her for a file, pinning her against the desk for just a heartbeat longer than necessary. The wayher breath caught, how she'd leaned back into me like she wanted more.
I wanted to kiss her. Want to kiss her every goddamn day.
The wanting's become a constant ache in my chest, growing sharper with every smile she throws my way, every time she looks at me like I'm not the train wreck everyone knows I am.
But I can't. Won't. She deserves better than a burned-out vet who drowns his sorrows when the ghosts get too loud.
Someone whole instead of held together with spite and stubbornness.
Still, when she's around, the bottle stops calling my name. The nightmares stay buried where they belong. For the first time in two years, I sleep through the night without reliving Sophia's lies or Beau's cold dismissal.
Lucy's become my antidote to the poison I've been carrying around.
My phone rings, nearly making me jump out of my skin. I strip off a blood-covered glove to check the screen, and my heart stops dead.
Beau.
Two years of radio silence, and he's calling at dawn?
"Talk to me," I answer, skipping the pleasantries.
"I need your help." His voice sounds like he's been gargling gravel, tired and raw. Like he's been wrestling demons all night. "It's Darcy—"
"The Holstein orphan Lucy's been mothering," I cut in, jealousy twisting sharp in my gut.
Long pause. When he speaks again, there's something in his voice I haven't heard in years. Vulnerability, cracked wide open.
"Yeah. That's her. Look, I know things are... complicated between us. But Lucy said something about not letting pride cost innocent lives, and she's right. I'm swallowing mine. I need help."
The admission probably costs him his soul. Beau Blackwell asking for help is like watching the Rockies crumble.
But more than that, I can hear Lucy's influence in every word. Her gentle wisdom chipping away at his granite pride the same way she's been chipping away at mine.
"Why call me?" I have to ask. "Thought you'd been using Doc Morrison."
"Because you're the best vet in Montana, and we both know it." Simple. Honest. The way he used to talk before everything turned to shit. "And because maybe it's time to quit being stubborn jackasses. Lucy... hell, she might be young, but she sees things clearer than either of us. Makes a man face what he's been too chickenshit to admit."
"She's got a gift for that," I agree quietly. "Woman's dangerous that way."
"That she is." His voice goes soft, and I can practically feel him thinking about her. "She really goddamn is."
For a moment, we're just two fools who've been lucky enough to catch Lucy Reid's attention.
Not enemies. Not rivals.
Just two broken-down cowboys appreciating the same miracle of a woman.
There's something healing in that shared recognition, like acknowledging what she means makes the jealousy hurt less.
"I'm out at Henderson's place," I tell him, checking my watch. "Hour and a half out, maybe two. But I can call Lucy, have her bring stronger antibiotics in the clinic van. She's closer, and you know how to dose them. Should buy us time until I can get there."
"That'll work." He struggles with words that have been locked away for two years. "Colt... thanks."
"Don't thank me yet. Save it for when Darcy's back on her feet."
He starts to hang up, but something Lucy taught me about swallowing pride when it matters makes me speak up. "Beau? It's... it's good to hear your voice again. Even like this."
