Aidan: Loyal Cowboy. Cathy Mcdavid

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      “I hope whoever buys her does exactly that.”

      Ace ran a hand along Fancy Gal’s abdomen. “Besides irritability, what are her other symptoms?”

      Flynn pointed to the mare’s shuffling hooves. “She keeps shifting her weight.”

      “I checked her feet,” her father added, coming over. “No stones or abscesses or any problems that I saw.”

      “You won’t take offense if I also have a look?” Ace picked up the mare’s front hoof, braced it between his knees and dug around the soft underside with a penknife.

      “I’d think you were a sorry vet if you didn’t.” Her father carefully supervised Ace’s every move. Fancy Gal was one of his favorite horses, too.

      Ace repeated the process with the remaining hooves. “They look fine.” He took a step back and considered the mare. “Any signs of colic?”

      “Nope.”

      “Yes,” Flynn interjected. Colic was her guess. “She’s been biting her flanks.”

      Ace placed his ear against Fancy Gal’s abdomen.

      Flynn held the mare’s head firmly in place. Fancy Gal might be a lamb but sick animals often spooked and behaved out of character.

      Ace straightened, his mouth set in a firm line. “Sounds like a war zone in there. I don’t think you should compete her today.”

      “Poor girl,” Flynn cooed, and scratched Fancy Gal behind the ears.

      “Have we caught it in time?” her father asked.

      He had reason to be concerned. Several years ago they had almost lost a prize gelding to a sudden and aggressive case of colic.

      “I think so,” Ace said. “Can you arrange for a separate stall or pen? She shouldn’t be with the other horses.”

      “I’ll talk to the barn manager.”

      “I can walk her,” Flynn offered when her father left.

      When their gelding had colic, she and her father had taken turns walking him all through the night. It had probably saved the gelding’s life.

      Ace shook his head. “I’d feel better if you got one of the men to do it.”

      “Fancy Gal won’t hurt me.”

      “Not intentionally.”

      “I appreciate your concern, but I’m going to walk her and—”

      “And I’m not stopping you,” he finished for her.

      “Something like that.” Flynn squared her shoulders.

      Ace’s glance traveled from Fancy Gal to Flynn. “I don’t like it.”

      “You have to trust me.”

      He groaned as if giving in to her caused him pain. “I’ve got some bute paste in my truck. That should help her with the discomfort.” He promptly returned, a tube clutched in his hand, and administered the bute paste.

      Fancy Gal didn’t like the taste or the texture. She worked her jaw and rolled her tongue until the medication had dissolved.

      Afterward, Ace accompanied Flynn and Fancy Gal to the vacant pasture on the far side of the warm-up arena. She started to tell him to leave, that she was fine on her own, then reconsidered. She liked him walking beside her. She reconsidered again the third time his arm brushed hers.

      At the end of their first circuit, Flynn told Ace, “You should probably go. Your event is the first one after the opening ceremony.”

      “If she worsens or shows any other symptoms, call me immediately. I don’t care what I’m doing.”

      “We’ll be fine.”

      He acted as if he hadn’t heard her. “I’ll stop by in an hour to check on her.”

      “You don’t have to do that.”

      “Yes, I do. You were lucky today. She’s in the early stages of colic. A few more hours, her chances of making a full recovery would be a lot less.”

      Whatever personal issues she had with Ace, she couldn’t deny he was a good vet.

      “I know it’s a lot to ask, and you just acquired all those horses at the auction…”

      “Tell me.”

      “Dad’s selling all the livestock. I want Fancy Gal to go to a good home, one where she can live out the rest of her life.” Flynn fiddled with the mare’s lead rope. “She’s really almost never sick. And she would make a wonderful broodmare. I can get you a copy of her registration papers—”

      “You want me to buy her?”

      “Yes.”

      When he didn’t answer right away, Flynn’s heart sank.

      “It was a stupid idea.”

      “No, it isn’t. I just don’t like doing anything that will make your leaving easier.”

      She glanced away, hiding her disappointment.

      He took her chin in his fingers and tilted her face to his. “But I’ll buy her.”

      “Seriously? Because I don’t want you doing this strictly for me.”

      “Of course I’m doing it for you. And she’d be a sound investment.”

      “Thank you, thank you!” Flynn threw herself at Ace and squeezed him tightly around the waist with her one free arm.

      “Before you get carried away, we should probably talk price.”

      “I’ll make sure Dad gives you a smoking deal.”

      Flynn sighed contentedly. This hug was so much nicer than the stiff one they’d shared at the fishing hole when she’d told him about the baby.

      “In that case, maybe we should buy more of your father’s horses.”

      “Oh, Ace.” She stood on her tiptoes and impulsively pressed her lips to his cheek. The familiar scent of him instantly assailed her, weakened her knees so that she was forced to lean on him.

      He went still.

      Uh-oh. Big mistake.

      She was about to pull away when he bent his head and sought her lips.

      The kiss, light, tender and achingly sweet, lasted only a few seconds before he abruptly withdrew.

      Not again!

      Why was he always doing this to her?

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