Page 87 of Bad Decisions & Back Roads

The line disconnected.

I stood there staring into the pasture for one long second, my stomach twisting so hard I thought I might throw up.Then I buried it.None of this was about me.I could handle one bad, unwanted date.I had to.

My next call was to the equine front desk at Vision to speak to the manager.

“Cheryl, this is Timothy Hurst, I’ve got?—”

“Well, it’s about damn time you called me back.My air conditioner died two days ago, and you never returned my messages.It was eighty-five degrees in my house last night.Why didn’t you come out?”

Had Deck dropped the ball?

“I wasn’t calling about that,” I said, already rubbing at my forehead.“Did you talk to Deck?”

“He told me to call you.I left two messages.Yesterday.”

I got six messages an hour on a slow day.By the end of it they blended into one long scream for help.I had an answering service for the primary business number but no one local used it.They went directly to my personal number.

“I’m sorry, Cheryl.Tell you what, if you help me out right now, I’ll come look at it myself this afternoon.”

“I don’t get off work until four-thirty and won’t be home until five.”

“Fine.Five o’clock.I’ve got a priority colic rolling into surgery in twenty minutes.Dr.Green signed off on Hudson Raynes in surgery.We need a full team.”

“They’re off after last night?—”

“Then drag them in,” I ordered.“This is Artax.The horse won’t be dying because everybody wants a day off.Call whoever you have to call, threaten them, bribe them, promise free donuts, I don’t care.I’ll be at your house at five.Text me the address.”Then I hung up before she could start talking about her air conditioner.

I walked back toward the paddock, shoving every ounce of disgust deep enough nobody would see it.

“Dr.Green approved you to do the surgery there,” I said evenly.“Cheryl, the office manager, will get the surgical people in motion.Cheryl can organize the money stuff.I didn’t talk to them about paying you, Hudson.Or the clinic.You’ll have to work that out.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Ken said.“Thank you.”

I nodded, but I couldn’t offer him any reassurance.

Around us, people were still staring at me.Everything felt too tight.I needed out before I showed cracks.

Then my eyes caught Gia’s gaze.Beneath her gratitude lay suspicion.Then her brows dropped into concern, which was far worse.

“I’ll go get the cow Gia was working on back out to her pasture,” I said before anyone could say another word, and before the sickness clawing up my throat won.I turned and walked fast toward the cow barn.I didn’t run.Walking was all the control I had left.

I cut into the first empty stall I found and braced both hands on the top rail, head hanging low while I dragged air into my lungs.The barn smelled like hay, cows, and dust baked by summer heat.Usually, it grounded me.Right now, it made the nausea worse.

Acid burned the back of my throat.Humiliation sat heavy in my gut like a stone.I swallowed hard, waiting for the vomit to come.Nothing.

It’s one damned date.Not a hookup.Not a promise for sex.Just dinner.

I’d just traded a date with a woman I couldn’t stand for another man to save the day in front of the woman I actually wanted.The thought made my stomach twist again.

“How exactly did you get Amanda Green to agree?”

I jerked upright and tried to smooth my expression.

Gia stood at the stall entrance watching me, concern written all over her face.There was a small smudge of dirt along her left cheek that was adorable.“She’s not a fan of me.I’ve tried to get into that surgery suite when the other guys are out of town, and she was awful about it.”

I looked away from her and up at the rafters.I couldn’t look directly at her.Not with the taste of Amanda’s “sweetheart” still coating the inside of my skull.Another wave of nausea rolled through me.

Then Gia stepped into the stall.Before I could brace for it, she wrapped her arms around me.The impact of the hug hit harder than any punch I’d ever taken.One second I was barely holding myself together.The next, she was pressed against me, warm and solid and real, her cheek against my chest.