in places it had no business buzzing and warming. None at all.
“Come on. We’ll use the golf cart. I already fed the barn.”
He walked toward her. All she could do was nod and then push away from the side of her car.
Get a grip.
Sexual attraction. Inconvenient, inconceivable, stupid sexual attraction. In college she’d had the hots for one of her professors. Eventually it’d worn off. Hopefully, this would, too.
“Um, nice place.” She ducked beneath the canvas roof of the cart as she climbed in next to him and he smelled... Oh, he smelled sooooo nice. Like sage and sawdust with a hint of sweat.
“Thanks.” He started the engine, the reverse gear popping into place with a jerk, something that seemed to be universal to golf carts the world over. “My parents built the barns and the fencing, but the house is original to the property.”
Should she admit she knew that? Wouldn’t he find that stalkerlike? “I read about that on your website.”
He glanced at her quickly. Yup. Definitely thought her stalkerlike.
“I research all the racehorse owners.”
Beneath his straw hat, a mixture of amusement and devilry shone in his skyline-colored eyes. “Oh, I’m sure. I bet you have dossiers on all of us.”
He shifted the cart into first gear, and she had a feeling he looked away only because he’d been about to laugh.
“It’s nothing personal.”
Why are you defending yourself? Geez, get a grip.
Because it was personal with him, she admitted, and all because of this damn ridiculous physical attraction. She’d known it from the start too. Usually, she went online to find out more about a racing stable’s operations—the number of stallions they had, if they bred their own broodmares, how many foals dropped in a year, that kind of thing. She’d be lying, though, if she didn’t admit to clicking around on the Triple J Ranch’s website looking for more information about Zach. What had he called himself? Small-time? Something like that, and they were. The Triple J Ranch could easily house dozens of racehorses, but she’d only counted four broodies out front. They didn’t have a stallion at stud, either. She’d heard they’d had to put him down a couple years ago, but she couldn’t deny that all that information had been secondary to finding out if he had a wife or kids or a girlfriend.
She was such an idiot.
“Sorry about your horse,” she blurted, because there she went blushing again. They were driving toward a shed, one that served as cover for the pasture animals on one side and looked to be some kind of storage facility on the other side. “Bad luck.”
“You have no idea.”
A soft breeze wafted across her face. It blew the smell of him away from her and allowed her to focus more on what she was at the Triple J to do.
Thank God.
“If Doc Miller suggests a fasciotomy, don’t do it.”
She felt him glance over at her. She was trying to keep her eyes straight ahead, but it was hard to resist the urge to turn and meet his gaze.
“It’s an unproven procedure that might end up doing more harm than good.”
Don’t look at him. Do not look at him.
She looked at him.
Zap!
That was what his stare felt like. Zing. Zoom. Zam.
“More internet research?” he teased.
Breathe.
“Actually,” she all but wheezed, “I’m a vet.”
He slammed on the brakes. She had to throw her hands forward to avoid slipping off the seat.
“What?”
They’d made it to the shed, but one glimpse into his eyes and she realized she’d shocked him. Good. If she kept him on his toes, maybe then he wouldn’t spot the way she blushed every time their gazes met.
“A vet. Graduated two years ago. That’s part of what I wanted to talk to you about. I have some ideas about the aftercare of horses with an injury like Dasher’s.”
She really wished he would quit looking at her like that. It made her all kinds of uncomfortable and...quaky inside. Yes, quaky, especially since she was closer than she’d ever been to him before. She could see up close how perfectly his features all melded together into a picture of utter male handsomeness.
“Where’s your practice?”
“I don’t... Well, I mean, I do have one. I mean, I could if I wanted to, and I do, sort of....”
She took a deep breath. “I work for nonprofits, mostly. Did a year in Mexico and Chile gelding stallions for rural farmers. These days I’m focusing on problems that are closer to home. I work for a temp agency that specializes in placing veterinarians. It means I have to travel a lot, but that’s okay. Working temp jobs gives me lots of free time to focus on CEASE.”
There. That hadn’t sounded so bad. He didn’t need to know that she’d been looking for full-time work for months now. Let him think she selflessly devoted herself to her cause.
He turned off the cart. “Be right back.”
“What? Wait. I’ll go with you.”
“No, no. Just stay there.”
He left her there sitting all alone.
She slumped against the seat in disappointment. She’d been hoping for a “Good for you,” maybe even a “Wow, I’m impressed,” but all she saw was his impressive backside disappear inside the shed.
You should be grateful he put some distance between the two of you.
Instead she dwelled on her disappointment at his nonreaction, and that worried her all the more. What did she care if he wasn’t impressed by her vocation? He was a racehorse owner. The enemy.
A handsome enemy.
She covered her face with her hands and groaned. She had the hots for him, all right. And she had them bad.
“Not good,” she heard herself say.
Not good at all.
* * *
A VET.
Zach pulled the string on a brand-new bag of grain, the threads sliding free with a pop-pop-pop-pop, all the while trying to figure out what would make a woman go through years and years of schooling only to toss them all away and found an organization like CEASE.
Crazy.
Well, he knew that. Everyone at Golden Downs knew it. When she and her buddies had picketed the
