“They did it in the old days.”
“We don’t live in the eighteenth century. So, did you just walk up and ask her to marry you?”
I flinch because, yes, that’s exactly what I did.
“This is bad. You didn’t tell her it was my idea, did you?” he asks a little nervously.
“No, I didn’t say your name.”
“Oh good.” Relief washes across his face. “Because I don’t think Bliss would have any compunction about giving me a black eye.”
“I just thought it was better to get right to the point.”
Our conversation gets interrupted when Darlene walks in. She’s somewhere in her early forties, brown hair with a few grays sneaking out, and tan skin that’s seen a lot of sun.
“I only have a couple of bottles of eight-way left,” she says, about the vaccines I need for my calves. “But I have a new shipment coming in on Thursday. Is that going to be a problem?”
My medicine list and Max’s are pretty similar, so we’re going to have to split whatever’s left to get us by until the shipment.
“What are you working on this week?” I ask Max.
“Prepping for the next round I’ll get in over the weekend, so if you need it way sooner, go ahead and buy what she’s got in stock. I’ve got a small batch to get by.”
Darlene hands me two boxes of 8-way.
“I thought I had enough selenium, and the Vira Shield is still in stock, but you didn’t tell me how many you needed.”
“I’m only doing about thirty calves.”
“All right. I’ve got that.” Darlene glances at Max. “Will that be okay with you?”
“Yeah, I only need the antibiotics today. I’ve got a cow with mastitis. I’ll come back this weekend when the shipment gets here.”
Darlene nods. “That sounds good. I’ll text you when it arrives. Oh, and you’ll need another vet prescription. That one’s used up.”
“Dr. Brown is retiring this year,” Max chimes in.
“He said nothing to me about it!” I mutter.
We share a veterinarian. Not exactly a high population for a veterinarian to cover, but he stays busy enough. We’re probably working him into an early retirement.
Darlene shakes her head. “I was worried that would happen. The last two times I’ve talked to him, he was talking about a warm beach somewhere.”
“Those damn beaches. They take the best of them,” Max mutters.
She hands Max the bottle of penicillin and makes a note on her phone.
“Thanks, Darlene,” I say as I walk to the door with the two bottles of 8-way. I’ll have to add them to my small cooler in the pickup.
I slip my boots on because even though this is Darlene’s place of business, it’s also her home, and if we were to wear our boots inside, she’d probably murder us.
“I’m going to grab lunch at the Shaky Pine. Want to join me?” Max asks as he steps into his boots and adjusts his jeans over the outside.
“Might as well.”
“Yeah, not like you have to plan a wedding or something,” he says as he opens the door and steps outside.
It’s a good thing I’m getting slower in my thirties; otherwise, I’d be tempted to shove him down the porch.
