But there's something else in those depths that stops my heart cold. The raw, helpless terror of watching something precious slip through your fingers while you stand there useless.
I wore that same expression in a hospital room, watching addiction win.
"Here." I reach for the dog, and she does not hesitate to transfer his weight to my arms, warm blood soaking through my uniform immediately. But his eyes track movement. Still fighting.
That's everything.
"The vet clinic," she says, already moving toward the building. "Dr. Mercer. I looked him up."
"Colt's the best," I hear myself saying, though I have no idea why I'm reassuring someone who led me on a high-speed chase seconds ago. "If anyone can save him, it's Colt."
We move together toward the clinic entrance, this blood-covered stranger and me, carrying a dying dog between us. She darts ahead for the door, and I catch herprofile in morning light. High cheekbones, full mouth pressed into a line that screams stubborn resolve.
Pretty. But there is something else. Something haunted that makes my chest tight in ways I do not want to examine.
I should be questioning her about trespassing, about why she ran, about the dozen red flags she is waving.
Instead, I find myself studying the determined set of her jaw, the way she keeps touching the dog's head with gentle fingers, murmuring reassurances. The fact that she is covered in blood and does not seem to care about anything except getting help for an animal that is not hers.
There is a story here. A big one.
The clinic doors seal behind us, cutting off clean mountain air for the sharp bite of antiseptic and disinfectant. The smell ambushes me. Sterile hospital corridors, machines breathing for someone who couldn't, the moment I realized love wasn't enough to save her.
I push the memory down hard, focusing on sounds around me: a dog barking somewhere in the back, soft chirping of birds, the gentle hum of equipment.
"Doc!" My voice carries the authority that came with the badge and years of military training. "Emergency!"
Colt emerges from the back, holding a gray rabbit. When he sees the injured dog, everything about him shifts into professional focus.
Then he sees the woman, and something else shifts. Something I do not like. The shift is subtle but unmistakable.
Interest. Male appreciation. The kind that makes my jaw clench without permission.
"Sheriff, what the hell happened?" He hands the rabbit to her without missing a beat, and I watch as the small creature settles against her chest like it belongs there.
The way she instinctively cradles the rabbit, like gentleness is hardwired into her DNA, makes something possessive flare in me.
"Found him by the creek," she manages, voice shaky. "He was barely conscious."
"Examination room two. How long ago?"Colt's already in motion, leading us deeper into the clinic, but his gaze keeps drifting back to her like she's magnetic north and he's lost his damn compass.
"Maybe 20 minutes, half an hour?..." She glances at me, and I catch uncertainty flickering in those brown eyes. "I got here as fast as I could."
"I need you both to step back," Colt says, moving around the examination table with practiced efficiency. "Give me room to work.."
We retreat to the corner, and for the first time since this started, I really look at her. Small but strong. Those brown eyes that seemed panicked after the chase now show nothing but fierce concern for the injured animal.
"You were trespassing," I say quietly, keeping my voice low enough not to disturb Colt's work, but there's no mistaking the authority threading through it.
She goes statue-still, every muscle locking down like she's bracing for impact. "I know."
"On Beau Blackwell's land."
A nod. The rabbit in her arms shifts, and she strokes its fur absently, in a natural and gentle way, clearly trying to calm both herself and the animal. Watching her hands move in those soft, soothing circles does something to my chest that has no place in an interrogation.
“You sped up when I turned on my lights.”
Another nod. I can see color creeping up her neck, embarrassment mixing with what looks like genuine fear.
