Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 69468 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69468 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
“Fair.” I’d eaten alone in new places too many times to keep track.
The thing about being single as long as I had was that all my army buddies kept marrying off, and the older I got, the more likely I was to be the one in charge, as opposed to a new recruit with plenty of other entry-level enlisted personnel to socialize with. I was damn good at being a leader, but not so much a friend. Been a long while since I’d had one of those.
“That a yes?” Jude smiled hopefully.
He had a kind face. Dark hair. Beard. Brown eyes with more gold than mine, which I had no business noticing. I also had no business going along to some support group, but a burger with the one person who seemed to see me as competent and who didn’t expect much talking from me did sound nice. Since I couldn’t drive, I’d been limited to ranch food all week. No offense to Casey’s cooking or the ranch, but I could use a change.
“Might as well.” I gave a casual stretch.
“Excellent. Let’s get to work.”
Jude dropped his medical bag, looking for all the world like he couldn’t wait to feed some horses. With eagerness like that, it was easy to anticipate a good evening, unwanted support meeting and all.
Chapter Four
Jude
“See? That didn’t take long at all,” I said to Carson as we finished up at the barn.
This time of year, with the summer temperatures, the horses were stalled during the day and turned into the paddock in the evenings to minimize heat exposure. Evening mucking could be more laborious as a result, but we’d made fast work of the task, coordinating our efforts as easy as if we’d been ranch hands together for decades.
“Thanks for helping.” Carson put away the remaining feed and neatly stacked his work gloves in the tack room before notating on the chart which horses had been fed and watered and when.
“No problem. My job is usually more about handling emergencies, so it’s nice to get to do some basic animal care once in a while.” I liked being a vet, but I did miss my carefree FFA and 4-H club days in high school, where keeping up with our animals was my hardest task. I led the way out of the barn to where I’d parked. “My truck’s this way.”
“That’s a classic.” Carson whistled low as he took in Sarge, my older, faded green Ford work truck.
“Not quite. Luna—our other vet—keeps on me to get a replacement, but Sarge here gets me where I need to go. Usually.”
“Usually.” Carson snorted. His gray T-shirt made his hazel eyes appear greener as they sparkled with amusement. “Should’ve gone Chevy.”
He had the tone of someone with a decided opinion in the eternal Ford-versus-Chevy truck debate.
“My dad drove a Ford, and his dad before him. We’re a loyal bunch.” I chuckled. I likely would have bought Earnest’s truck off his folks regardless of make, but the fact that it was a heavy-duty Ford had made the decision a no-brainer.
“I remember…your dad.” Carson measured each word solemnly. “Condolences.”
I had vague memories of his dad too. A sheriff who had been killed in the line of duty. Our gazes met in the way that only those who had lost a parent could understand.
“Thanks. Been a number of years.” I waved a hand as if eight years was the magic number for the ache to subside. It wasn’t. I didn’t want to ask what Carson might have heard regarding the loss of either of my parents. I wasn’t in the mood to dig deeply into ancient hurts that had yet to scab over, so I forced an easy laugh. “Enough time for all his old clients to start trusting me.”
“That’s good.” Carson’s expression stayed somber as he climbed into the passenger seat of the truck. “He’d be proud.”
“I hope so.” I fiddled with my keys as my mouth kept right on rambling. “I like what I do and what Luna and I have built, so that’s something. He was proud when I joined the army to get funding for college, same as him. And proud when I graduated from his alma mater for veterinary school. He wanted me to come back home then, but I did a post-doc with the equine sciences program.”
I couldn’t say why Carson had earned my honesty, but he certainly was easy to talk to, something I’d noticed from my first visit earlier in the week. He had a way of taking everything I said seriously, considering each sentence carefully, an active listening most folks never bothered with.
“Post-doc is impressive.” Carson was someone who respected rank, and indeed, it had been a plum position to land. I’d loved the work, but even years later, the bitter tang of regret resurfaced.