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“Yeah. I mean, I guess, technically, it’s still my grandparents’ ranch, but they’ve turned the operations over to Meg.”
I agreed with him that the rescue was impressive, but all I was doing was working there. The real heroes were Cruz and Nolan, but I knew if I said that, he would just argue with me.
“So, how are you feeling?” I asked, changing the subject.
“Tired. My head is still kind of foggy, but I don’t feel as bad. How long until lunch is ready?”
“About fifteen minutes, probably.”
“Okay, I think I’ll go shower. Maybe that’ll help me feel more human.”
“Leave the door open so I can hear you if you need me.”
“I’m pretty sure I can manage a shower, but if it makes you feel better, I’ll leave it open.”
I put down the knife I was using and walked over to where he stood. Then I leaned down and kissed him on the forehead. “Thank you.”
He let out a long sigh and leaned against my chest. I wrapped my arms around him and held him tight for a second before letting him go and pushing him toward the bathroom. “Hurry so the food doesn’t get cold.”
Chapter 15
Spencer
“I don’t remember when I’ve been so sick,” Shay said.
“I know, right?” I agreed. “I barely had the energy to sit up and watch television.”
“At least you have a strong, handsome man to take care of you,” she teased. “All I had was my dog.”
“Yeah, I admit, I’m not complaining about that part. It was kind of nice.”
“I’m sure it was.”
It really had been nice. It had taken me until the better part of Saturday before I decided I felt even halfway normal, but the whole time, Nash stuck right by my side, making sure I had food, water, and anything else I needed.
I wasn’t sad to be feeling better, but I was sad when I watched him pack up his bag and head home Sunday night.
Shay and I were just finishing up our lunch on what had so far been a pretty laid-back day. The virus had seemed to run its course, and since this was spring break for the schools in the area, we were hopeful that with an opportunity to clean and disinfect everything, the worst of it was over.
She held up her soft drink toward me, tapping her drink against mine. “Well, here’s to a peaceful afternoon.”
“Oh, man, why’d ya have to say that? You know better.”
“I was just going for some positive thinking.”
I wadded up my trash and tossed it toward the can and, of course, missed. I rolled my eyes and shook my head before getting up and walking over to pick it up off the floor and throw it in the trashcan.
“Positive thinking should be just that, positive thinking. You can’t say that out loud,” I grumbled. “And just for that, whatever disaster walks in the door is yours.”
“Whatever. You’re ridiculous.”
I wish I’d been wrong, but even the craziest superstitions exist for a reason, and sure enough, our afternoon was insane. Thankfully, nothing terribly bad, but it sure wasn’t the peaceful afternoon she’d hoped for.
I worked the early shift that day, so I was getting off at three. It was almost time for me to leave, and I was standing at the front desk talking with our receptionist when Trent Atwood, our local deputy, came in with an injured young man. He looked to be around thirteen or fourteen years old with shaggy blond hair and colorfully painted fingernails. He also had a bloody cloth wrapped around his left forearm that he was holding in place with his right hand, and he was pale as a ghost.
“What happened?” I asked, coming around the counter.
“He cut his arm on a broken window,” Trent said. “I called his mother. She’s on her way up here.”
