My eyes narrow, but I do as she asks and plant my feet. “Let me help you.”
“I can’t,” she swallows hard, “Please just stop.”
I scrub a hand over my mouth, my fingers twitching to reach for her, but she’s just too far away. Not physically, but in every other aspect.
Reaching into my pocket, I pull out my wallet and then one of my business cards, showing it to her.
“If you need anything,” I tell her, “Anythingat all, call me. I’ll get you.”
She watches me tuck the card beneath a bucket that looks like it hasn’t moved in months, but doesn’t say anything as she turns away and disappears into Ginger’s stall.
Chapter Seven
“Through here,” I show Darcy into the stables, flicking my eyes to where Cal is yelling orders to his workers, even though he hasn’t taken his eyes off me.
My fingers curl into my palm, tight enough that I feel all my veins pop out.
Darcy’s brows twitch, her gray eyes landing on me as she tucks a dark strand of hair behind her ear, “What’s gotten into you?” She glances at my fist, and I have to force myself to relax, hiding my cards behind a mask. I’ve known the woman a long time, pushed her away just as long, but it isn’t hard to see she has tried for more with me.
But I swore off relationships a long time ago. Got burned and won’t revisit the subject.
“Nothing,” I grunt, “Dottie’s in the examination stall. Second one on the left.”
Her eyes narrow, but she shakes her head, knowing when to push me—which is never—and heads down to the filly, her large case in tow. She places it down on the ground and steps a little closer to get a better look at the Appaloosa.
“She’s a pretty girl,” she muses.
I nod in agreement. With age, she’ll be even more stunning, with her black and white coat, the dots forming across her hind as well as around her neck. She has long socks on each leg and a deep black mane and tail.
Heading into the stall, I run my hand down each side of Dottie’s face, soothing her so Darcy can come in to examine her.
“Take it easy,” I warn the doc, “She’s reactive.”
Darcy nods, raking her eyes over the horse. “She’s young.”
“Calvin gave an age of approximately two years and three months.”
Darcy looks skeptical but doesn’t say anything, coming into the stall slowly as she whispers words of encouragement to the horse. Dottie watches her intensely, but she does well, allowing the vet totouch her and move around her, giving her a basic once over before she joins me at her head.
“I want to check her teeth,” Darcy says.
I keep Dottie as calm as she’ll allow me as Darcy pulls back her lips to get a look at the filly’s teeth, but she’s only there a few seconds before she snaps up straight and pins me with her wide eyes.
“How old did you say she was again?”
“Just over two years.”
“No.” Darcy clucks her tongue. “This horse is nowhere near two.”
“What do you mean?”
“She’s barely a year old, Silas.”
I feel the blood rush to my head. “What?”
“She still has all her baby teeth,” Darcy swallows. “There’s no evidence of new teeth coming through. This filly is still a baby, Silas. She shouldn’t even be here.”
My head snaps around to the door where Cal is heading in.
