He was an asshole. He hadn’t just hurt Ivy’s feelings. He’d hurt Eden’s, as well—he heard it in her voice. But little girls were outside his comfort zone. Women were outside his comfort zone. And hurt feelings? He didn’t have the time or patience for that.
All he knew was Ivy was small. And delicate. Just like Eden. Fester could have hurt them without trying. He swallowed, surprised by the cold, hard fear that stuck in his throat. “It’s my business to ensure that the people on the refuge are safe, Miss Caraway... That’s all. I did not mean to offend you.” He stopped, staring at her. “I apologize.”
She blinked, her features softening. “I accept.”
He nodded, wishing he knew what she was thinking. His family was full of emotive, unguarded people—he knew where he stood with them. Eden Caraway, however, was an enigma.
Her gaze shifted to her work. “The girls won’t come here again—”
That wasn’t what he wanted. “Miss Caraway—”
“Unless you, or someone you approve of, is with them,” she finished. “I respect your judgment. As we discussed earlier, I am not a horse person.”
He nodded again, instantly relieved.
Her eyes bounced from her papers, to him, then back again. The fluid shift of her features catching his full attention. And the red cast of her cheeks. She drew in a deep breath, her gaze holding his. “Dr. Boone—”
“Archer,” he corrected, waiting.
“Now that we’ve reached an understanding...” She paused, her eyes falling from his. “You can go find your...a shirt.”
He looked down. He’d heard her and hadn’t bothered getting dressed. He didn’t say a word as he left her small office and returned to his. He dug through the bag he kept ready for a rescue or house call and tugged on the white undershirt inside. He glanced at his door, still out of sorts, before flopping into his desk chair. This “trying to be on his best behavior” thing wasn’t working out.
He ran a hand over his face and glanced at his computer. An email caught his eye.
He slid his reading glasses on and sat forward, poring over the email. Another Boone cousin, from West Texas, had found a horse that needed help and sent the info. The pics Scarlett sent tore at Archer’s heart.
This poor little paint horse had been trapped inside a too-small stall with moldy grain and a bucket of brackish water. No doubt it had intestinal parasites. Possibly lung infection. If it hadn’t been moving around, hoof problems... He spent the next two hours working on the computer, returning phone calls and verifying the location of the horse. Once that was done, he called Deacon.
“I’ll head out now,” his cousin said. “Be back as soon as I can.”
“She’s in a bad way,” Archer said.
“I’ll be careful with her, Archer,” Deacon assured him.
“Take Toben,” Archer offered. “Don’t know how steady she’s going to be on her feet.”
“Can I take someone I’m less likely to punch?” Deacon asked.
Archer smiled. “You pick. See you later. Don’t let Toben drive.”
“Not a problem,” Deacon agreed.
He placed his phone on the desk, sat back and rubbed a hand over his face.
“Everything okay?” Eden asked from the door.
“New horse coming in.” He looked at her. “How’s the sting?”
She shrugged. “A little sore. Not so bad.”
He nodded.
“Guess juggling scorpion bites and horse rescues and uncooperative employees is all part of a day’s work?” she asked, leaning against the door frame.
He couldn’t stop the smile. “Yep.”
She shook her head, studying him intently. “Have you always wanted to do this? Work with horses, I mean. Be a safe haven for them.”