Heat floods through me at the promise in those words. I'm about to respond when my phone rings.
It’s an unknown number. Wes? I answer cautiously. "Hello?"
"Dr. Carter?" A woman's voice, strained and urgent. "This is Margaret Whitehorse, Lester’s wife. You came out last week to check on his mare, the one having trouble with her pregnancy?"
I sit up immediately, the fog of sleep gone. "Yes, of course. How can I help you?"
"She's in labor," Margaret says, her voice tight with worry. "But something's wrong. She's in distress and Lester is at a loss. He wanted me to call you, but the clinic said you aren’t in on the weekends, only Dr. Brennan's out on another call and there’s no one else available."
My mind shifts into professional mode instantly. "How's her breathing? Is she down or standing?"
"She's down. Breathing hard. Sweating. She’s been pushing for about twenty minutes."
Shit. Not good. I jump out of bed. "I'm on my way. Tell Lester to keep her calm. Don't let her thrash if you can help it. I'll be there in twenty minutes."
"Thank you," Margaret breathes. "Thank you so much."
I hang up and immediately call Mason.
He answers on the first ring. "Lily."
"I have an emergency call," I say, pulling on jeans. "Lester Whitehorse’s mare. She's in labor and having complications. I need to go."
There's a pause. "Where?"
"The Whitehorse property is about fifteen minutes from here, just off County Road 12."
"I'm coming with you."
"Mason—"
"I'm coming with you," he repeats, his voice harder now.
I take a breath, forcing myself to stay calm. "You're in the middle of planning with Jake and Luke. That’s more important right now than escorting me, isn’t it?”
“Nothing is more important than you, pretty girl,” he says, his voice raspy with emotion.
I breathe through the response it stirs in my heart. “Please, Mason. I’ll be fine. This is my job. It's what I do. The property isn't far, it's broad daylight, I know them, and I know the horse. It's a routine emergency call."
"Nothing about this situation is routine."
"Thecallis routine," I counter. "A mare in distress. That's my job, Mason. I can't let an animal come to harm just because Turner's watching."
Another pause. I can practically hear him thinking, calculating, weighing options. "Lily?—"
"Mason." I soften my tone. "I know you're worried. I know what Turner said last night. But I can't live in a cage. I have to be able to do my job. This is a pregnant mare in distress. I'm not going to let her suffer because I'm scared."
The silence stretches. Finally, he exhales. "Fine. But I'm putting a tracker on your phone."
I blink. "What?"
"A tracker app. So I know where you are at all times. Just in case."
It's a compromise. A reasonable one, actually, and it means he's not going to fight me on this.
"Okay," I say. "I’m fine with that."
"I’ll do it now."