“Hey!” Rosie beamed. “You came!”
“Wouldn't miss it.” The blonde surveyed the booth with an approving nod. “This looks amazing.”
“Brought reinforcements.” The dark-haired one gestured behind her.
Two men followed. One I recognized immediately—the blue heeler trotting beside him gave it away before I placed the face. Scout. Yearly checkup three weeks ago. Healthy dog, well-trained, owner who listened to my advice.
The other man was familiar in a different way. Tall, polished, the kind of expensive casual that screamed money. Where did I know him from?
“Emily, Abby, this is Cal Sterling.” Rosie gestured toward me with easy confidence, like she hadn't just rolled into town five minutes ago while I'd been here for four years avoiding exactly this kind of social interaction. “He's the town vet.”
The blonde—Emily—studied me with sharp blue eyes. Recognition flickered across her face. “Sterling Animal Clinic.”
“That's right.”
Emily's sharp eyes assessed me. “You bought Dr. Hammond's practice.”
“Four years ago, yes.” My hand tightened on Daisy's leash. She was sniffing Scout now, tail wagging in frantic circles.
“This is Evan.” Abby gestured to the man with the heeler. “And Nate.”
“Hey.” I lifted my chin toward the two men in what I hoped passed for casual acknowledgment.
Hey?
What was that? Some kind of universal bro greeting? Did I just... nod at people? Like we were in a truck commercial?
I didn'tdothis. I didn't have guys I casually greeted with chin lifts and monosyllabic sounds. I had clients who brought me sick animals. I had Sharon, who tolerated me. I had thirteen dogs in a barn who couldn't judge my complete lack of social skills.
This was a mistake. I should leave. Fake an emergency. Daisy could suddenly develop a limp. Very convincing. Completely believable.
“Hey.” Evan returned the gesture with the exact same chin lift.
Oh God, it worked. What did I do now? Was there a follow-up? A secret handshake? Some kind of sports reference I was supposed to make?
Nate offered a polite nod. “Nice to meet you.”
Right. Normal words. I could use those.
Except my brain had apparently short-circuited somewhere betweenheyand the horrifying realization that I'd just attempted male bonding for the first time in four years.
I glanced at Rosie. She was smiling at me like she could smell the smoke coming from my overheating brain.
This is your fault.
Then she turned to Emily and Abby, launching into an animated conversation about her booth setup, and I realized with dawning horror what was happening.
I was supposed to talk to the guys.
Just us. Standing here. While the women who dragged us to farmers’ markets did their thing.
How do people do this?
Evan glanced at the women, then back at me. “You two friends?”
“We're...” I hesitated. What were we? Rosie had barged into my life a few days ago and somehow convinced me to attend a farmers’ market. “She's one of my clients.”
Evan's eyebrow climbed. “Right. Client.”
