Page 62 of The One Who Never Left: Colter

Some people started their mornings with coffee. Sutton had started hers with a husky who thought he was a firetruck siren and a goat that couldn’t handle a sneeze without falling over.

Oh, it wasn’t just any goat, it was Stiffy, the famous fainting goat, who was back for the second time in so many weeks.

Stiffy was standing in the middle of the exam room like he was waiting for a job interview, not a veterinary consult. The fainting goat was small and compact, all wiry muscle and stiff-legged dignity, with a black-and-white coat that looked freshly brushed for the occasion. Around his neck was a navy, Velcroed tie that made him look like a mayoral candidate—which was fitting since he was the unofficial mayor of Bridlewood.

His eyes were wide and earnest, pupils blown just enough to suggest he was mildly offended by the entire situation.

He didn’t bleat or move. He just locked his knees, lifted his chin, and stared at Sutton with the grave seriousness of a creature who knew he might lose consciousness at any moment but intended to do so with professionalism. One wrong noise, one unexpected gesture, and he would tip over like a Humpty Dumpty.

Sutton had the distinct, absurd thought that if he fainted, he’d do it politely—straight back, tie still in place, dignity mostly intact.

“He’s fainting more than normal,” Harriett, his human, said calmly.

“He is a fainting goat. That’s what they do.”

“But it’s up to five or six times a day. Do you think his mayoral duties are too much?”

“Stress could be a factor,” Sutton said with all the seriousness in the world—all the while biting her lip to keep from laughing.

Harriett looked at Sutton, sizing her up and Sutton knew the exact moment that her young age came into play. “I think I need a second opinion.”

Nothing irritated Sutton more than people judging her competence by her age. She might not have logged as many years in pet care as other vet techs, but when it came to caring for a life—really carrying the weight of one—she had more experience than most of them.

But the patient’s needs outweighed her insecurities. “Should I send in Dr. Callahan?”

“Oh honey, why do you think we women come here?” Harriett said and Sutton had to blink.

“For veterinary care?”

“For the veterinarian himself. Half the single ladies in town, and some of the married ones, bring in their animals just to watch his hands work.”

“So, this isn’t about my age?”

“Heavens no. Your gentle way with animals has been talked about all around town.”

“It has?”

Sutton hadn’t realized how much she’d needed to hear that until now. The words wrapped around her like a collective embrace, as if the whole town had pulled her into one, big, unexpected hug. For the first time in longer than she cared to admit, she felt it, the unshakable sense of belonging—like maybe she wasn’t just passing through anymore.

“Yes. My request is about hormones. Even us older ladies need a little fire under our saddle and Dr. Irresistible is all fire. Then there’s his butt. You can bounce a quarter off that thing.”

Sutton bit the inside of her cheek, fighting the smile threatening to betray her. If Colter had any idea that half the women in Bridlewood were inventing vague emergencies and mysteriously lethargic lapdogs just to get an eyeful of his backside, he would be mortified.

“I haven’t noticed.” Another lie. How many did that make? Six?

Harriett was the kind of retired woman who treated gossip like a competitive sport and matchmaking like a civic duty. With perfectly sprayed silver curls, bright pink lipstick bleeding slightly into the lines around her mouth, and enough costume jewelry to trigger airport security from fifty feet away, she looked harmless. Which, Sutton suspected, was exactly how Harriett got people to confess things they absolutely shouldn’t.

“Oh, honey,” she said gently, patting Sutton’s arm. “The two of you in the waiting room was like watching the part of a romcom where both people are fighting the obvious.”

“We just work well together.”

Harriett harumphed. “That man didn’t just notice you, he saw you. The real kind of noticing. The kind that lingers a half-second too long and makes a fellow forget what he was saying.” Her smile widened. “A woman knows when she’s being looked at like a woman, and you were.”

Sutton busied herself by examining Stiffy’s flank. “What do you mean?”

Harriett’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “You can’t invite the town’s most eligible bachelor into your place and not have lips flapping.”

Breathless panic skittered through her chest at the idea that people could see it. That whatever was happening between her and Colter was readable, legible, and written all over her face like a confession. She had not named it. Had not examined it. Had certainly not given it permission to exist out loud.