Chapter 3 - Naomi

The drive back to the clinic is a blur, my mind still processing the events at Walker Jameson"s ranch. I"ll admit, I didn"t know quite what to expect when I got that call earlier. The stories about Walker"s gruff demeanor had me prepared for the worst kind of client interaction.

But he surprised me. Oh, he was every bit as terse and no-nonsense as the rumors suggested. But there was also an underlying warmth when it came to dealing with his horse Rebel. A gentleness that seemed at odds with the hardened ex-soldier facade.

I shake my head as I pull into the clinic parking lot, scolding myself for reading too much into a simple call. Walker Jameson is just another client, plain and simple. Sure, he"s got an intriguing background, but that"s none of my business.

I was there to treat his horse, not analyze the man himself.

Heading inside, I make a beeline for the small lab to log Rebel"s case and process the samples I took. Routine stuff, straightforward. That"s what I need to focus on.

But no matter how hard I try, my thoughts keep drifting back to the Triple J Ranch—to that barn with its heavy wooden beams and musty scent, to Rebel"s liquid brown eyes and the way Walker spoke so gently to him despite his generally brusque manner.

"Get it together, Naomi," I mutter under my breath as I prep a slide for the microscope.

This is precisely why I try to maintain boundaries with my clients. Can"t go catching feelings over every rugged cowboy who hires me.

Still, I can"t deny there was something about Walker that sparked...curiosity. His jawline, the curve of his full lips, the stretching fabric across his muscular shoulders...

I push those thoughts aside as the phone rings, grateful for the distraction. Duty calls, as they say.

The rest of the day passes in a blur of appointments and patient check-ins. A couple of routine vaccinations, an ear infection in Mrs. Henderson"s cocker spaniel, nothing too out of the ordinary. Familiar, comforting routines to push those lingering thoughts of Walker Jameson to the back of my mind.

Finally, the last client of the day heads out, leaving me alone to tidy up the exam rooms and restock supplies. As I work, my phone chimes with a new text from my best friend, Sara.

"Girls" night at my place? I"ve got wine :)."

I can"t help but smile at the invitation. A night in with my oldest friend, decompressing over a few glasses of red is exactly what I need right now.

"You read my mind. Be there in an hour?"

Her reply is almost instantaneous. "It"s a date! See you soon, babe."

Pocketing my phone, I make quick work of the remaining clinic chores. Sara"s house isn"t far, just a few blocks over, so it doesn"t take me long to lock up and make the short drive.

She greets me at the door with a big hug and a glass of tempranillo.

"You look like you need this," she chuckles, passing me the wine.

"You have no idea," I groan, following her inside.

Sara"s place is small but cozy, decked out in her usual eclectic, bohemian style. I settle onto the overstuffed sofa as she puts on some music - an indie folk playlist, just chill enough for evening relaxation.

"So," she prompts after rejoining me, "weird day at the clinic or just the usual pet madness?"

I take a sip of wine, feeling the tension in my shoulders start to unwind already.

"Well, it started out weird, that"s for sure…You know that big cattle ranch out northwest of town? The Triple J?"

Sara nods, tucking her legs up under her on the couch.

"Yeah, Walker Jameson"s place, right? The hot former Army guy?"

I roll my eyes at her description.

"If by "hot" you mean gruff, older, and perpetually scowling, then sure."

"So what? Still hot. But tell me everything. You had to go there today?" She leans forward, interest piqued.

Sara always did love a bit of gossip.

"Yes. One of his horses was hurt. Abscess in the hoof." I take another sip of wine. "I"ve gotta admit, the stories about Walker"s attitude aren"t exaggerated. The man makes a drill sergeant look cuddly."

Sara arches an eyebrow. "But?"

"But..." I hesitate, sorting through my thoughts. "I don"t know. There was something about the way he was with that horse. He was still all quiet and brooding, sure, but gentle too. Like the animal"s wellbeing was his biggest priority."

"So, in other words, he"s a teddy bear under all those rough edges?" Sara"s lips smirk slyly.

I shake my head vehemently, "No, that"s not what I"m saying at all! Just that he clearly cares about his horses, which makes sense for a rancher. That"s it."

"If you say so." Sara shrugs, entirely unconvinced. "Well, are you going to see grumpy cowboy again for follow-ups?"

"I"ll probably check on the horse"s progress in a few days, yeah." I drain the last of my wine, already regretting bringing up the whole Walker Jameson situation.

"You know what they say - still waters run deep," Sara prods with a wink. "Maybe there are hidden depths to your brooding rancher."

I groan, grabbing the wine bottle to refill my glass. Something tells me I"m going to need a couple more rounds to get through this conversation.

I level Sara with a look over the rim of my refilled glass.

"I think you"re reading way too much into this whole thing."

She holds up her hands in mock surrender, "Alright, alright. I"ll drop it...for now." The sly grin doesn"t leave her face, though.

Shaking my head, I decide to change the subject before she can start in on me again.

"Speaking of relationships, did you hear from Chloe and Aaron at all this week?"

Sara"s expression brightens at the mention of our newly married friend and her lumberjack husband.

"Oh yeah, Chloe sent me some pics from their honeymoon. They looked so freaking happy together."

"Well, it was about damn time," I chuckle, thinking about how long it took those two to finally tie the knot.

"You"re telling me." Sara sighs wistfully. "I just love seeing Chloe so over the moon. Part of me is kinda jealous, you know?"

I nod, well aware of Sara"s tendency to go a bit starry-eyed over romantic relationships.

"You"ll find your lumberjack charming someday, Sara. Just maybe look outside of Willow Creek"s limited dating pool."

She gasps in mock offense, "What, you don"t think there are enough firemen and cowboys around here to sweep a girl off her feet?"

"I"m just saying, keep an open mind," I laugh, holding up my hands defensively. "Silvervale Mountain might be a better place to lumberjack hunt."

"Maybe you"re right." Sara grins at me over the rim of her wineglass. "I"ll put you on best woman duties if I manage to bag one."

We both dissolve into laughter at the image. Sara and whatever future lumberjack beau, sawing a log together as the ceremony centerpiece. Ridiculous but somehow totally fitting for my free-spirited best friend.

It feels good to kick back and unwind with Sara like this. No matter how insane work gets, or what dramas crop up in our lives, these nights are a constant I can always count on. With good wine and better company, everything else just seems to melt away.