He sighs dramatically. “Fine.”
I cross my arms. “Thank you.”
His smile turns wicked as he swings his arm for me to go first. “You’d better go before I drag you into the barn, Doc.”
My heartbeat speeds up. The image that forms in my mind is completely unhelpful right now.
He’s trying to distract me, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction. I confidently walk up to him and run my hand down his chest.
“That’s not the threat you think it is, cowboy.”
His eyes widen slightly.
Then I spin around and take off running. Sprinting toward the clinic.
Behind me, I hear boots pounding against the gravel.
“Get back here!” he yells as he chases me.
I laugh as I glance over my shoulder. His long legs are closing the distance. Dammit, he’s moving fast for a man who just got his bell rung.
I squeal and run faster. Past the arena. Past the equipment shed. To the clinic door.
Axle is right behind me.
Victory.
Axle
Imeet Uncle Albert at the main barn just after sunrise.
The ranch is still stretching awake. A few hands are already moving around the corrals, and somewhere across the property, a tractor rumbles to life. The air carries that crisp mountain chill that never completely disappears, even in the dead of summer.
Albert stands beside two saddled horses, a travel mug of coffee in one hand. “You’re late,” he says.
I glance at my watch. “We said seven. It’s three minutes past.”
He grunts, “Late.”
I shake my head.
Some things never change.
Growing up, we all learned that Albert Storm operated on his own clock, and everybody else was expected to keep up.
I grab the reins of the bay gelding waiting for me and swing into the saddle.
Albert mounts his sorrel mare with the ease of a man who’s spent the majority of his life on horseback. Riding is as natural as breathing for him.
“Ready?” he asks.
“Yep.”
Without another word, we head north.
The morning sun is just beginning to spill across the pasture. Dew glistens on the ground like tiny diamonds.
For a while, we ride in comfortable silence.
