Chapter 4 - Walker

I pause my work in the corral, wiping the sweat from my brow as I glance up at the blistering late morning sun. Another scorcher of a summer day here on the ranch. Not that I mind the heat - it beats the bone-chilling winters, that"s for damn sure.

Movement in my peripheral vision catches my eye, and I turn to see Rebel watching me from the shade of the barn. The gelding"s left hind leg is still wrapped in a thick swathe of bandages, protecting the injured hoof.

My chest tightens with guilt. I should"ve noticed that abscess before it got so bad. Rebel"s been a good horse all these years - he deserves better than to be laid up like this because I wasn"t paying closer attention.

Shaking my head, I remind myself that the vet—Naomi—said he"s on the mend now. She got that infection cleaned out and treated properly. Still, I"ll feel a hell of a lot better once she"s back here to check on his progress.

At that thought, my gaze drifts toward the dirt road leading up to the ranch house and barn. Nothing but a shimmering mirage in the distance so far. I really ought to get back to work rather than standing around like a damned greenhorn waiting for something to happen.

Yet, out of nowhere, the rumbling approach of an engine cuts through my mental scolding. I squint against the harsh sunlight until her faded red pickup truck appears, kicking up a cloud of dust as it heads toward the barn.

Right on schedule, just like we agreed when I called her yesterday.

Something hot and unfamiliar flares in my chest as I watch Naomi climb down from the driver"s seat. She"s wearing boots, jeans, and a plaid button-up knotted at the waist - a far cry from the green clinic scrubs I"d initially met her in. Her chestnut hair is pulled back in a ponytail, but a few loose tendrils have escaped to frame her face.

I give myself a stern, inward shake. Get a grip, Jameson. She"s just here to check on Rebel, same as last time.

Still, I can"t quite ignore the way my pulse kicks up a notch as she approaches, shoulders squared and all business.

"Morning," she calls out once she"s within speaking distance. "How"s our patient doing?"

I clear my throat, praying my expression doesn"t betray any of the jumbled thoughts currently rattling around in my skull.

"Rebel"s hangin" in there. No fever or nothin", but I figure you"ll wanna take a look for yourself."

The corners of her mouth twitch upward in a fleeting half-smile, "You know me so well already."

There"s a playful lilt to her voice that catches me off guard. Before I can formulate a response, she brushes past me toward the barn, all business once more.

"Let"s get him out in the aisle, take those wraps off, and see what we"re dealing with."

I blink slowly, falling into step behind her as she strides toward Rebel"s stall. What in the hell was that about?

Naomi wastes no time getting to work, expertly unwrapping the thick bandages from Rebel"s hoof. The gelding stands patiently, though he shifts his weight with obvious discomfort.

"Easy, boy," I murmur, keeping a grip on his lead rope while Naomi examines the affected area.

Her brow furrows in concentration as she prods and inspects the healing wound. I can"t help but study the focused intensity on her face, the way her teeth tug at her lower lip while she works.

Finally, she leans back with a nod of approval, "Looking good so far. No signs of further infection or complications."

Relief washes over me at her assessment.

"That"s...good to hear, doc."

"Keep up with those soaks I showed you, and we should have this closed up completely in a few more days." Her eyes meet mine with an understated confidence.

"You got it," I reply gruffly.

An awkward silence stretches between us, and I find myself struggling for something more to say. Naomi seems to sense my discomfort. She straightens up and brushes her hands on her jeans.

"Well, I"d say that"s about all I can do for now. Unless you need anything else?"

The words are out of my mouth before I can censor them, "Why don"t you at least stick around for a drink? Some iced tea or somethin"?"

Naomi pauses, eyeing me with surprise.

"Oh, I...probably shouldn"t be drinking on the job, Mr. Jameson."

I arch an eyebrow at her formal address, "It"s Saturday, Doc. You"re just doin" me a favor by coming out here. The least I can offer is somethin" cold to drink."

She regards me for a beat, seeming to weigh her response. Finally, she gives a slight shrug.

"Well, when you put it like that...I"d be a fool to turn down some sweet tea on a scorcher like today."

Satisfied, I jerk my head toward the house, "You go on and have a seat on the porch. I"ll join you in just a minute."

Naomi nods and heads off, leaving me to secure Rebel back in his stall. As I work, I can"t help but replay our brief interaction in my mind. Was I really that eager for her company? Or was I just being a decent host, like Mama raised me?

By the time I make my way to the porch, a couple of tall glasses of iced tea sweat in my grip, Naomi is settled in one of the rocking chairs. She looks perfectly at home amidst the weathered wood and rusted iron decor.

"Here ya go," I grunt, handing her a glass before taking the seat across from her.

She accepts it with a murmured thanks, taking a long pull through the condensation-beaded straw. I try not to stare, but there"s something about the sight of her throat working as she swallows that has me suddenly parched.

Good lord, take a deep breath, Jameson.

The silence stretches between us, filled only by the buzzing of cicadas and the creak of the rocking chairs. Finally, Naomi breaks it.

"You know, I"ve always wondered..." She pauses as if reconsidering her words. "Doesn"t it get lonely out here sometimes? This whole ranch to yourself?"

A low chuckle rumbles up from my chest.

"After bein" shoulder-to-shoulder with a few dozen other fellas in the sandbox, you learn to appreciate a little solitude, doc."

She nods slowly in understanding. "The military. Right."

My gaze inadvertently drops to the bead of sweat trailing down the hollow of her throat. I clench my hands tighter around the damp glass, forcing my focus elsewhere.

"So, what made you decide to become a vet?" The question tumbles out in a bid to distract myself.

Naomi seems to consider it for a moment before replying.

"Honestly? I"ve just always felt a real connection to animals, you know? Like I can understand them on some deeper level." She pauses to take another sip of her tea. "Probably sounds kind of corny, huh?"

I shake my head.

"Not at all. Way I see it, any job where you"re helping animals is about as noble as it gets."

A small smile plays across her lips.

"Well, thanks. I guess I just always felt a calling to advocate for those who can"t speak for themselves, you know?"

"Makes sense to me," I reply with a nod.

A momentary lull falls between us again as we sip our drinks. The porch rockers continue their steady creak.

"What about you?" Naomi"s voice breaks the stillness. "What made you decide to become a rancher after...you know, getting out of the military?"

I exhale slowly, memories of my post-Army drift flickering through my mind.

"Truth is, I spent so many years taking orders, moving from base to base, that I got sick of it. I wanted to put down some roots, finally settle in one place for good."

"Hence the big ol" ranch in the middle of nowhere," she surmises with a wry smile.

"Exactly." I can"t help but return her grin. "Someplace I could have a little piece of land to call my own. Break my own trail, so to speak."

Naomi nods thoughtfully.

"I get that. After being out there following someone else"s lead for so long, having your own path must feel pretty grounding."

"You got that right, doc." My gaze drifts out over the sun-baked pastures, warm pride swelling in my chest.

This scrap of the earth is mine, bought and paid for with blood, sweat, and nightmares. Nobody can take that away.

A distant rumble of thunder interrupts our contemplative silence. We both glance up as the first fat raindrops begin splattering the porch.

"Well, I"ll be..." I mutter, setting my now-empty glass aside as the skies open up in a sudden downpour. "Didn"t see this one comin"."

Naomi shoots me a wry look as she rises from her rocker.

"What, you mean your legendary rancher weather sense didn"t pick up on an impending storm?"

I can"t help but chuckle at her teasing tone, standing as well.

"Don"t get smart with me, Doc. I just didn"t expect the weather to change this much and so quickly."

Another peal of thunder punctuates my words, this one closer and more ominous. The deluge intensifies, rainwater already starting to pool on the porch boards.

"We"d better get inside "fore this gets any worse," I tell her gruffly, gesturing toward the ranch house door.

She nods in agreement, shielding her face with one arm as we quickly make our way across the porch. I fumble with the doorknob, finally getting it open and ushering her through ahead of me.

The interior is blessedly cool and dry, smelling faintly of lemon furniture polish. Naomi shakes out her dampened hair as I shut the door behind us, muffling the sound of the pounding rainfall.

An awkward silence settles between us. We are both suddenly very aware of being alone together indoors. I clear my throat roughly.

"Well, uh...make yourself at home, I reckon. Storm"ll prob"ly blow over before too long."

Naomi tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear, nodding, "Yeah, no rush. I"m happy to wait it out."

Our gazes linger a beat too long before I force myself to look away. What the hell is wrong with me today?