Somehow, with the help of the vet we called in before we rode out to the pasture, we assist the mama through the birth of a healthy—if not tiny—calf. I’m pleased to see the heifertaking to her baby, encouraging it to stand and eat. I’ve had plenty of mamas reject their calves for any number of reasons.
As I stand, my foot slips out from under me. I reach out to stop myself from falling, slicing my palm on something in the ground. “Ah, fucking hell,” I hiss. Blood starts to pool in my palm, and I clench my hand in a fist. In the grass is a nail, likely from a horseshoe.
Fuck. I quickly snatch it from the ground. That’s the last thing we need one of the cows to step on.
“Well, goddamn, Knox,” Dr. Winter curses. “Give me your hand. I’ve got some antibacterial spray in my kit.”
“Uh, isn’t that for animals?” Brady asks.
“It’ll still clean the wound,” Dr. Winters answers patiently. He’s a better man than I am—I’d have addedfucking idiotto the end of that sentence.
I wince as the doctor rinses out my wound with a bit of saline and then sprays it with the antibacterial.
“Shit, that fucking stings,” I groan.
“How up-to-date are you on your tetanus shot?” Dr. Winters asks.
“Got one a year or two back when I scraped my head on a nail sticking out of the post in the shop.”
“You should still be covered then, but I’m a little rusty on my human medical knowledge.”
“I’ll give the clinic a call. What time is it? They might still be open.”
Dr. Winters finishes wrapping up my hand as he looks at his watch. “Looks like six thirty.”
“Oh, fuck. I’m late.” I stride over to Sir and mount up. I kick him into a run, knowing it doesn’t matter how fast I ride. I’ll never make it to that meeting on time.
* **
I’m jogging down the hallway, my boots echoing with every step. I doubt Farrah is even still here, but the front office let me in the door, so someone must be.
I slow down a few steps from her classroom to try to catch my breath. I’m entirely too big a man to be sprinting. Okay, it was probably the speed of a fast walk, but either way, I’m struggling.
The door is open, indicating she’s still here. When I step through the doorway, I’m taken aback as I always am by the riot of color that surrounds her. It’s over the top and ridiculous in all ways. What kind of adult wears a sparkly pink headband?
I ignore the way her large brown eyes stir something low in my body. I refuse to be attracted to a woman as outlandish as she is. I lift my hand to take my hat off, forgetting about the bandage and wincing at the pull against my wound.
She sucks in a breath, standing abruptly. “What in the world happened to you?”
“Nothing. Doesn’t matter. Am I too late?”
She narrows her eyes at me. “I suppose not, since I’m still here. You’re half an hour past your time, so I’m going to make this quick.”
I snort. “Because you have so many places to be on a Thursday?”
“In fact, I do. I had dinner plans, not that you care.”
“Sure, Princess.” Who the hell would she be going out with? There aren’t that many single guys in town, and fuck knows she’d scare most of them away with her outfits.
Farrah grinds her teeth. I take a sick amount of pleasure in ruffling her feathers. I like showing her that she can’t hide that anger from me, no matter how big her smiles are.
I plop down in one of the chairs across from her desk. A glance at my legs has me fighting back a wince. I didn’t have time to shower or change. Farrah probably thinks I’m asdisgusting as I think she is. She’d be right tonight, unfortunately.
She murmurs something about cowboys being assholes as she grabs a folder from the side of her desk.
I wipe my noninjured hand across my mouth to hide my smirk. I’d like to get this done and over with, not that I hate verbally sparring with Farrah. I’m dying for a shower, and I still have to pick Finn up from Holt’s house.
He spent the afternoon with them and Holt’s parents since we had these conferences. I have no idea what I would have done without Holt and his family. I’m pretty sure they saved my life in more ways than I could count.
