She’d been so wrapped up in dreading facing Dillon that she made a grave tactical error as she headed for the barn. She forgot about the geese.
Bonnie and Clyde charged her as she headed out across the driveway toward the barn. Wings spread, and necks outstretched low and parallel to the ground, beaks aimed at her like cruise missiles, they were a fearsome sight racing toward her.
Terrified, she sprinted for the barn, running awkwardly in her high-heeled leather boots. One of her stiletto heels landed on a rock and rolled off it, throwing her off balance as her ankle twisted beneath her. She stumbled awkwardly, righted herself, and continued pumping her legs as fast as they’d go.
She made it to the barn door and threw it open, which apparently was the signal for the birds to call off their strafing run. They stopped in their tracks, straightened up and folded their wings with great dignity, and commenced strolling sedately back toward the front porch.
“Stupid cobra chickens,” she muttered at their retreating tails, which twitched in impertinent unison as they walked.
She prayed Dillon hadn’t seen her flee the geese and nearly face plant like that. She turned to face the rest of the menagerie of doom and stepped inside the barn.
Chairman Meow yowled at her in loud complaint from his perch in the rafters.
“I know, I know,” she told the cat. “I heard you the first time.”
4
Dillon took his time driving out to Fern's place. Not because the cat didn't need insulin—Chairman Meow was undoubtedly way overdue for his meds and that was no joke with a diabetic animal—but because he needed the entire twenty minutes of the drive to get the grin off his face before he arrived.
I need a veterinarian.
Four words. Delivered through what sounded like clenched teeth. He was reasonably sure Tessa Lawrence would rather have chewed glass than make that call. But fact that she'd done it anyway told him two things. First, the cat was in bad shape. Second, and more importantly, it told him the woman actually did have more sense than pride.
He was not gonna lie. She'd surprised him by making that call. It took guts to pick up the phone and ask him for help after how rude she'd been to him at the funeral. Even if her rudeness had been delivered with devastating politeness in a voice as sweet as sugar.
She had to know he was going to richly enjoy making her eat crow today. But she'd called anyway. He had to admit It took a certain amount of character to put the welfare of animals ahead of herself and her pride. She might actually have a little class to go with those million-dollar looks of hers.
Which was more than he could say for himself, given that he was enjoying her discomfort way more than any decent person should.
He pulled up the gravel drive and parked behind her car. The geese were stationed by the porch steps, maintaining their perpetual vigil over the farm. Fern had named Bonnie and Clyde after the famous outlaws, and it was apt. Those two birds ran this property like a protection racket.
The geese charged him the way they always did, and he sidestepped them with the practiced ease of a man who'd been navigating cranky animals longer than those two miscreants had been alive. Clyde continued to track him with one beady eye but let him pass. They had an understanding, he and the geese. They let him enter the barn, he brought out a treat for them when he exited it.
Tessa met him at the barn door. Her ridiculous high-heeled boots were muddy, and if he wasn't mistaken, one of the thin spiky heels was listing slightly to one side. Her far-too-nice-for-a barn blouse had a smudge of something on the sleeve that he was fairly sure was chicken manure, and her hair, which had been in an immaculate French twist at the funeral, was escaping its bun in several directions.
She looked furious. Not at him, but at this whole situation. Of course, everyone in town had heard about Fern's will, and every single person in Cobbler Cove was laughing their head off at the idea of Tessa Lawrence living on a farm, let alone mucking stalls.
It wasn't that folks disliked Tessa. Far from it. She was universally respected and liked in town. Apparently, she went to Bozeman every August and brought back a whole carload of school clothes from a charity she worked with there. Anyone in town could come into her store and choose outfits with "school clothes" tags on them. Apparently, they were mixed in with the rest of the clothing so folks wouldn't have to go to a special charity rack and have other customers know they couldn't afford to buy their kids clothes.
The way he heard it, she even rang up the free clothes and bagged them as if families had paid for them so nobody would be embarrassed at taking charity if other customers were in the store. Which was a classy move.
The fact that she went to so much trouble to save other people embarrassment made the fact that she'd embarrassed herself to call him even more surprising.
"Thank you for coming," she said politely. Of course, he suspected she would be polite if a robber pointed a gun at her and told her to give him her purse.
But beneath the composed pleasantry, she sounded frustrated. And overwhelmed. Very, very overwhelmed.
She also looked, against every rational assessment, beautiful. With no make-up, her hair a mess, and disheveled clothing, she stole his breath away. Her skin was flawless and porcelain smooth. Her brunette hair was silky, and her brown eyes framed by dark lashes were so gorgeous he wanted to just stand here and stare at them.
He shoved that whole bucket of thoughts into a locked box and mentally threw away the key.
He didn't do relationships. He didn't date women. And he definitely didn't date women like her. Been there, done that. Got the T-shirt and broken heart to show for it.
"Twenty-two minutes," she said lightly. "You said twenty."
He let her have the tiny win. She obviously needed a little something to lord over him and bolster her punctured pride. He shrugged and merely said, "The geese slowed me down."
He tipped his hat back and looked past her deeper into the barn. "Where's the Chairman?"