“Oh, honey. That’s not endorphins. That’s a man.”
“I’m going to hang up now,” she said pleasantly.
“No, you’re not. You’re going to tell me whether my best friend is finally ready to admit she’s smitten with the grumpy veterinarian who, according to Ruth Sanger, shows up at her house no less than three times a week.”
“Ruth Sanger needs a new hobby.”
“Ruth Sanger has a new hobby. Your love life.”
Tessa rolled her eyes. Outside, June ambled into the paddock and lowered her graying muzzle to snuffle at the grass. “I’m not smitten.”
“How would you describe it?” Charlotte challenged.
“I . . . tolerate him.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“I will admit that my level of tolerance for the grumpy vet may be increasing somewhat.”
Charlotte stopped teasing and waxed serious. “Whatever it is, Tessa, I’m happy for you. Glowing health or joy or whatever it is a good look on you.”
Charlotte offered to look after the Fashion Bow-tique for a few hours so Tessa could stay home and review the contract without interruption and they hung up.
Tessa looked down at Hamlet, who had rolled onto his side to present his belly for scratching. “I may be in trouble,” she told him. “Apparently, I glow now.”
He grunted, clearly agreeing with her.
Dillon’s truck came up the drive a little after ten, pulling a horse trailer she didn’t recognize. He must’ve had to take an animal to the big vet hospital in Bozeman this morning.
There was no reason for him to be there. The only current problem on the property was a few of the chickens had started being peckish about letting Tessa reach under them to collect the eggs.
She jogged down the steps and walked over to him as he hopped out of his truck. He stood there staring at her, a hint of concern in his eyes but a smile trying hard to emerge from his mouth.
What on earth was going on?
“Lucky for you I’m working from home this morning,” she said cheerfully. “I ought to be at the store today.”
“I saw your car in the drive,” he replied.
Right. That made sense.
He did an odd thing, then. He just stood there saying nothing. She couldn’t tell if he was doing it on purpose or he truly didn’t know what to say. Finally, she couldn’t stand the suspense any longer and said questioningly, “Dr. Steele?”
“Mrs. Lawrence.”
She huffed and demanded bluntly, “Why are you here?”
“Two reasons. First, I got back the results of Dolly’s skin biopsy. Her mange is in full remission. Which means you can stop the skin treatments, quarantine, and stall disinfecting effective immediately.”
“Praise the Lord,” she said fervently.
“And pass the potatoes,” he added wryly. “Thought you might want a copy of the lab report that’s your release from llama purgatory.”
He held it out and her fingertips brushed his knuckles as she took it.
It was a brief touch. Less than a second. But time enough to register that his hand was warm and a little rough. She noticed abruptly that he smelled faintly of iodine and horse and hay . . . and she liked it.
Neither of them moved as they stared at each other.
