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“Mo.”
I flinch at the mention of her name. “What did I tell you about saying her name?”
Coop frowns. “It’s been six years.”
“Is she hurt?”
He shakes his head. “No.”
“Is she in jail?”
“What? No.”
“Is she getting married?”
Coop opens his mouth, and I shake my head.
“Wait, I don’t want to know. Now move so I can go get my dogs.”
“What happened between you two?”
“Nothing. Get out of my way.”
“Suit yourself. At least take the car and leave the truck for me.”
We switch keys, and I climb into his Malibu.
As I pull out, I realize he’s right; I probably shouldn’t be driving. But the doctor said I shouldn’t drive, not that I couldn’t. And luckily, Animal Haven is only five miles from Coop’s house.
As the road spools out before me, I remember all the good things about being here. Making the decision to leave Heaven was difficult—not just because I was leaving my family behind, but because I left Mo behind.
Mo Gallagher. The girl who got away. Our relationship was a whirlwind. We fell hard and fast, but we both had big dreams, and we made a promise that when the time came, we’d support each other in the pursuit of those plans. Turned out her version of support was much different than mine.
Shaking my head, I try not to think about the past. Now I’m living my dream. Well, I’m not living it right now. Right now, I’m jacked up, but I’ll get back there. I have to; bull riding is my life.
My tires crunch on the gravel lane that leads to Animal Haven. The main building is tucked in the backwoods of Heaven. As I approach I see a large, red barn sitting off to the left that wasn’t there six years ago, and the trees I helped plant along the lane when I was a boy have grown exponentially. Animal Haven sits on about one hundred acres, and I know at one time Phil wanted to build a house out here. That doesn’t seem to have happened yet.
A small lane juts off to the right, leading toward a set of stables, and beyond that is a dirt path. It’s grown over now, but back in the day, Coop, Mo, and I would spend hours out there running through the woods.
Coming back here feels familiar, and familiar hurts. I put the car in park and climb out, and a movement to the left catches my eye. A woman runs across the open yard with two dogs. My two dogs. Duke is a German Shepherd mix, and Diesel is a husky mix. I picked them both up at an animal shelter in Houston a few years ago. My intention was to get one dog, but they were in the same cage, and it didn’t feel right to leave one behind.
The woman stops, zigs to the left, and when the dogs follow her she zags to the right and takes off again. Diesel jumps up, catching the back of her leg and sending her face first toward the ground.
Shit. I move across the yard as quickly as I’m able, praying she’s okay. Diesel bends down to lick her while Duke bounces around her in circles. She sits up and pushes Diesel off of her, and that’s when I hear it. Her laugh. My heart seizes inside my chest. I’d recognize that laugh anywhere.
Mo.
I can still remember everything about her—the way she’d thread her fingers through my hair before kissing me, the light smell of strawberries every time she entered a room. Her touch. Her taste. Her soft moans when I made love to her. Everything about her is so fresh in my mind that it’s hard to believe we’ve spent the last six years apart.
Monroe always loved coming out here and helping her dad, so I shouldn’t really be surprised to see her. I suppose that’s what Coop was trying to tell me. If my calculations are right, she should be about ready to finish up veterinary school, and I imagine she’ll soon be taking over Phil’s practice. Not only did her dad start Animal Haven, he also owns and runs the only veterinary office in town, Ruff Times Veterinary Clinic.
Mo must sense my eyes on her, because she turns my way, and the easy smile on her face fades. She pushes up from the ground, brushes her hands off on her jeans, and not once does she break eye contact.
Her long, dark hair is a bit of a mess, pulled up into a knot on top of her head as her green eyes move warily over me. She’s wearing tight jeans, a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and cowboy boots, and she looks gorgeous. Unable to help myself, I take a tentative step forward. She seems hesitant at first, but then she looks down at the dogs and says something. I’m not sure what—we’re not close enough for me to hear—but whatever it is makes Duke and Diesel two happy pooches, bouncing and jumping around her.
I can almost hear her sigh as she takes her first step toward me, and I use the distance between us to run my eyes over her body. The last six years have been kind to her. Much kinder than they’ve been to me, that’s for damn sure. Her chest is larger than I remember, and she fills out a pair of jeans in a way most women only dream about. I’m not at all ready to analyze the strange feeling stirring in my gut.
My eyes travel north as she comes to a stop twenty or so feet in front of me, and even from this far away, I can feel the magnetic pull that’s always between us. I take a step back because I don’t want to feel that attraction—or anything else that will make me see this woman as someone other than the girl who left me.
