“Oh my God, I'm so—” She scrambled backward, boot catching on my shin. “Sorry! I didn't see you?—”
The goat bleated triumphantly from somewhere outside.
“Chip!” She shoved hair out of her face, leaving a streak of dirt across her forehead. “That little?—”
Her eyes met mine.
Everything slowed. The distant bleating, the chickens clucking outside, the sound of my own breathing—it all faded into background noise.
Hazel. Her eyes were hazel, flecked with gold in the barn's dusty light filtering through the open door. Light freckles dusted across her nose and cheeks like someone had splattered paint there.
She was frustrated—I could see it in the tight set of her jaw, the way her brows pulled together—but her lips quirked up at the corners. Almost a smile. Like despite everything, despite the escaped goat and the collision and the fact that she was currently sprawled half on top of a stranger, some part of her found this funny.
I almost forgot her elbow was digging into my ribcage.
Almost.
“I'm so sorry.” She repeated as she pushed up on one hand, which drove her elbow deeper for half a second before she shifted her weight. “I didn't—I was just trying to catch?—”
She untangled herself, one knee braced on either side of my hip as she tried to stand without stepping on me. Her boot caught on my bag. She wobbled, grabbed my shoulder for balance, and heat shot through my chest that had nothing to do with the impact.
“Sorry. Again. God.” She finally got her feet under her, stumbling backward.
Say something. Anything.
She was gorgeous. Genuinely gorgeous in a way that made my mouth go dry and my mediocre-at-best social skills completely abandon me.
“You always assault people in your barn?” The words came out before I had the time to process them. “Or is this special treatment?”
Ouch.I winced internally.
She blinked. “I—what?”
“I'm here for Buddy's checkup.” I stood up, brushing dirt off my jeans. “Nine-thirty. Which was twenty minutes ago, but?—”
Her brows furrowed. Then she laughed, bright and surprised, the sound bouncing off the barn walls.
“Wow.” She crossed her arms, shaking her head. “Uncle Walt said you were rough around the edges, but I wasn't expectingthat.”
Heat crawled up my neck. “I didn't?—”
“'You always assault people in your barn?'“ She mimicked my tone with uncanny accuracy, raising one eyebrow. “Yeah, it's how I greet everyone. Really sets the tone.”
“Sorry, I'm not—” I stopped, running a hand through my hair. Those hazel eyes were still fixed on me, and I had zero skills for handling that kind of distraction.
Try again. Without the attitude this time.
“Can we start over?” I cleared my throat. “I'm Cal. Doc Sterling. Here for Buddy's checkup.”
Her expression softened. “Rosalie. Walt's niece.” She wiped her hand on her overalls before extending it. “Everyone calls me Rosie.”
I held her hand a second longer than necessary.
Focus.
“Where's Walt?”
She blinked at the shift. “He left a few days ago. Should be in St. Louis tonight. He's meeting Barbara in person for the first time.”
