She giggled. “I didn’t know that.”
He wanted to stroke the curve of her cheek. So he shoved his hands in his pockets instead. “Hunter’s invited us to join them after Shawn’s ride. Some bowling, maybe?”
“Maybe.” She didn’t sound enthusiastic, but it wasn’t a no.
Tripod jumped down and trotted out of the exam room.
“Guess that means it’s time to go?” she asked.
Fisher nodded. “You already speak pretty good cat.”
He led her to his office so he could pack up his laptop and the stack of surgery assignments he needed to grade. Brook had taken half of them, so that left him with thirty-five papers to review.
“Homework?” she asked, staring around his office at the multitude of pet pictures and owner thank-you notes that Fisher had tacked up to decorate his walls.
“And here I thought I was done with school,” he teased. “Good thing I love my job.”
She turned, her blue gaze considering. “People respond to you—animals, too.”
He almost dropped his bag on his desk, wanting to reach for her but worrying he was moving too fast. “Respond to me?”
She nodded, the intensity of her gaze holding him in place. Her reaction to him had been unforgettable. Would she respond the same way now? He couldn’t test it. Shawn was waiting for him—no way he was going to disappoint the boy. So he finished packing up, turned off his office light and locked the door behind them.
“All those thank-you notes and drawings? All over your office? I’m assuming they’re from owners.” She walked with him.
“Some are. Some are from the kids that come on field trips.” He grinned. “We do a week each year for the surrounding elementary schools. We fix all sorts of torn and damaged stuffed animals for the kids, with a few stitches, some compression wrap and a couple of well-placed bandages. The kids love it. And me, too, of course.”
She laughed. “I’m sure they have a great time.”
He glanced at her, loving the sound of her laughter and the ease of her smile.
“Do you really think Shawn will be ready for the camp?” she asked as they made their way out of the school and across the parking lot to his truck.
He unlocked the passenger door and held it open for her. “I do.”
She smiled, taking the hand he offered to step up into his truck. “Thank you.”
“My sincere pleasure,” he said, closing the door and walking around the front of the truck to get in. “Like I said, he’s a natural rider. He and Trigger already have a solid rhythm. By the time camp starts, no one will be able to tell he’s a beginner.”
Their conversation centered on Shawn and the upcoming camp. He could tell she wasn’t as excited over it as her little brother.
“Tell me what’s worrying you so I can fix it,” he said.
She looked at him. “About Shawn?” she asked.
That simple question made him pause. Would she tell him? Would she share the weight of all of her concerns with him?
“We can start there,” he said.
“It’s not a short list,” she teased. But underneath the light and airy tone of voice he suspected she wasn’t teasing at all.
“Tonight, I’m all yours,” he said, regretting the words the instant they were out of his mouth. He knew she was looking at him but couldn’t look at her. “I mean, you have my undivided attention.” When he did look her way, he was surprised to see a small smile on her face.
“I need to get him plugged in to something. He spends too much time alone for someone his age.” She stared out the truck window. “In Vegas, we went everywhere together. But I can’t bring him to work with me—I know that’s not acceptable. Working at Shots can’t compare to the vet hospital’s pay or benefits, but Cutter doesn’t mind if Shawn’s around.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what to do with him, to keep him busy and out of trouble.”
He didn’t have an answer for her. He’d spent the long, hot days of summer running around with his brothers on the ranch. Most days his father had a list of chores he expected them to do. But once that was done, they’d climb trees, look for scorpions, skip stones on the lake or—if the water was high enough—tube down the river that ran through the ranch.
But Shawn was alone, in town. And there wasn’t much for a twelve-year-old boy to do in a town the size of Stonewall Crossing. Unless...