Page 41

“Only for important things. Now tell me more.”

She shook her head, still smiling. “Not much more to tell. I helped my dad and uncle start colts back home.” She shrugged like it was nothing. “That’s the part I actually miss.”

That caught him more than the mutton busting had. Starting colts wasn’t a hobby somebody picked up. It was work you got hurt doing.

Mac studied her across the table. He’d known about the ranch. He knew she helped in Watchdog’s clinic and up at Arden’s place. But every time Jodie told him something new about herself, another piece slid into place.

“So was that what you wanted to do? Work with horses?”

Her smile changed, her expression softening. “Sort of. I wanted to be a veterinarian.”

Mac sat back. “Really?”

“Why does everybody act surprised by that? Just because I’m a receptionist⁠—”

“Jodie, I’m not surprised.” He meant it. “I’m just trying to figure out why you’re running Watchdog instead.”

“I do not run Watchdog.”

He gave her a look.

“Fine. Administratively.”

“That’s better.”

The server arrived with the pizza, set it between them, and swapped Mac’s empty for a fresh beer, saving Jodie from whatever answer she’d been about to give—or avoid. The pizza was enormous, bubbling cheese buried under an entire layer of cupped pepperoni slices.

Jodie breathed in deeply. “Oh, that’s beautiful.”

Mac laughed. “You say that about pizza the way some women talk about jewelry.”

“Pizza has never disappointed me.”

There were several directions Mac could take that, and every single one of them was dangerous. He reached for a slice instead.

Jodie did the same. “Anyway, yeah. Veterinary medicine was the plan for a while. Then I got older and started looking at how much school it took and how much it cost. I wasn’t sure I wanted that many more years of classes, not to mention the debt, so I went the vet-tech route instead.”

“That explains your clinic work.”

“Partly.” She took a bite, closed her eyes for a second, and made a happy sound that did absolutely nothing helpful to Mac’s concentration, sending him right back to the shooting range and the way her hair had smelled. “Then one job became another job, and eventually I landed at Watchdog.”

“You say that like it just happened instead of something you planned.”

“In a lot of ways, it did.”

Mac watched her reach for her Coke.

“Do you regret it?”

Jodie paused with the glass halfway to her mouth.

“Do I regret Watchdog?” she asked.

“Any of it.”

She took a drink before setting the glass down. “No. I love Watchdog. I love the people and the dogs and the absolute circus my workday turns into before nine o’clock most mornings.” Her smile faded a little. “But.”

“But?” Mac leaned in.