Why was he asking her? Fern known her heart was failing for some time before the final heart attack claimed her. In fact, Fern made a point of telling Tessa a few months back that she’d made arrangements for her motley assortment of pets when she passed. She’d looked smugly satisfied with herself about having taken care of it, too.
Tessa said smoothly, “I’ll finish settling her affairs in the next few weeks. Fern left instructions for everything, including her animals, I’m sure.”
“Fern told me you didn’t know a steer from a stump.”
Her grip on the coffee cup tightened. Whether from anger or an involuntary urge to throw it at him, she wasn’t sure.
“Fern and I had our differences,” she said carefully, “but I don’t think a funeral is the place to?—”
“You’re right. Sorry.” He had the grace to look mildly chastened. “Fern just talked about you sometimes. I feel like I already know you.”
“You don’t.”
“No,” he agreed, studying her with an expression she couldn’t quite read. “I don’t suppose I do.”
An awkward silence settled between them. Tessa sipped her terrible coffee. Dillon turned his hat in his hands.
“The thing is,” he said, “those animals of Fern’s need looking after. Some of them have medical conditions that require regular care. If you’re going to be handling the estate, you should know that the barn cat needs insulin shots twice a day, the old bay mare needs her joint supplements, and the llama’s skin condition is going to flare up again if nobody stays on top of it.”
“I’m aware that there are animals on the property.”
“Being aware of them and being able to take care of them are two very different things.”
“Arlo has stepped in to care for them for now. Fern’s will is being read tomorrow, and she assured me she made arrangements for her animals. I’ll see to it her wishes are followed to the letter.”
Tessa set her coffee cup down on the table gently. She’d grown up around people who could flay you alive with an arched eyebrow. She’d survived boarding school, her mother’s dinner parties, and the cutthroat social politics of the Upper East Side. She was not going to be lectured by a man whose boots were muddy.
“Thank you for your concern,” she said with a smile so polished it could have been displayed in a museum. “But it’s handled.”
“Is it, though?”
“If I need veterinary help, I’ll call a vet.”
“I’m the only large-animal vet in the valley.”
She held his gaze and said, with the kind of deliberate sweetness that would have made her mother proud and her WoWS sisters howl with laughter, “If you were the last veterinarian in Montana, I’d learn animal medicine myself before I picked up the phone and called you.”
Someone behind her choked on a deviled egg.
Slowly, the corner of his mouth tugged upward in a grin he clearly couldn’t suppress. It transformed his face from merely handsome into something considerably more dangerous.
“Fair enough, ma’am.” He settled his hat on his head and touched the brim. “I’ll let you get back to your funeral.”
He turned and walked away, and Tessa absolutely did not watch him go. She did not notice the way his shoulders filled out that pressed shirt or the way his gorgeous blue eyes had crinkled at the corners when he smiled.
Insufferable man.
Charlotte materialized beside her with the stealth of a woman who’d raised twins and learned to sneak up on their shenanigans for her own safety. “What was that?”
“Nothing.”
“That was not nothing. There were fireworks exploding between you two.”
“That was a rude cowboy who thinks I plan to take care of a bunch of farm animals and furthermore, that I’m not capable of doing it if I choose to.”
Charlotte’s eyebrows shot up. “You and farm animals? Since when?”
“The vet was talking about Fern’s menagerie. He seemed to think I’m looking after them.”