Page 20 of A Stable Daddy

Jim just sighs and says, “Because you justcan’t, Dust. It’s rude.”

“It’s okay,” I cut back in as Dusty’s expression falls. He’s a sweet kid, and I like being able to talk about Maddy without the oppressive veil of sympathy or sadness which usually accompanies talking to family or old friends. “I don’t mind.” My smile still slips as I answer, “It was skin cancer. Melanoma. It spread fast and—” I stop abruptly as my eyes fill with tears and my voice breaks, remembering just how quickly my vibrant, sixty-three-year-old husband’s health plummeted. Oscar squeezes my shoulder, his hand a steadying warmth. Clearing my throat, I finish, “He was gone pretty suddenly.”

Dusty stares back at me, horrified. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. I…shit, Doc, I’m sorry.”

A watery chuckle escapes me and I shake my head. “Don’t be.” Cringing, I add, “I’m sorry for bringing the mood down. How’d we get from Play School to this?”

“Let’s just blame Dusty,” Jim teases, and I snort at the affronted expression on the younger man’s face.

Oscar lets go of my shoulder to pat me on the back. It’s as much a calming gesture as it is a giddy-up. “C’mon, darlin’, I think that’s our cue to get you set up in your guest quarters.”

The words remind me of how tired I am, and I nod. “Okay. Thanks.”

Pushing to my feet, I thank Rob again for his hospitality, compliment the food one last time, then bid the rest of the team goodnight and, for the most part, goodbye. I can’t imagine they’ll be needing me to travel out from Denham again, not once their local vet is back on his feet.

It’s a bit sad to realise, really. This station is unlike any other I’ve visited, and I could see myself befriending this whole group if I was given enough time to do so.

Then, with Oscar’s palm warming the middle of my lower back, I wonder if maybe I might get that chance one day after all.

It’s probably wishful thinking, but I could use some wish magic right now.

Chapter Eight – Oscar

That was a lot, I think to myself as I lead Ryan back to our parked cars after swinging past the cupboard in the foyer to grab the keys for his cabin for the night.Poor Ryan.

From our first —though limited— meeting, I knew that he had some kind of history, but learning that he’s recently widowed makes my heart ache for him. Knowing about it doesn’t change my attraction to him, nor does it change my desire to pursue a relationship if he also wants one, but it does make me feel even more protective of him. It also reminds me that I need to be patient with him, because not only is he inexperienced with my brand of kink, he’s also grieving.

I might not have lost a partner, but I know that the death of a loved one isn’t something you just get over like you would a breakup. Maddy was Ryan’s husband, someone he loved until the guy took his last breath. Someone he still loves and probably always will. Someone whose memory I have no intention of replacing. Nor do I have any intention of taking Maddy’s place in Ryan’s life or his heart.

But I still want a place of my own there, too, one day.

Could I share Ryan with the memory of his husband? Is he ready for me to try? Is it something he even wants right now? Or ever?

Obviously, I have to talk to him about it. I think about what I’ll say and how I’ll say it during the short drive out to the guest cabin, checking in my mirror that Ryan is following me. Call mean overprotective Daddy if you have to, but with the daylight having dwindled away, the dirt drive can be a bit bumpy and daunting to those new to the property. I’d hate for him to hit a pothole, or for him to end up travelling off course.

When I get to the little timber cottage, I head to the front door and unlock it, flipping on the lights just as Ryan parks his truck beside mine. He climbs out of the cab of his truck and slings a dark-coloured duffel bag over his shoulder.

I raise an eyebrow at that.

“I always travel with a change of clothes,” he explains, catching my expression and interpreting it correctly. “Never know what can happen when you’re working with animals.”

“That’s real smart of you,” I tell him. “Good boy.”

In the yellow light from the cottage’s single oyster-shaped ceiling light, he blushes. “It’s just logical. After my third experience getting dirt and blood all over me, I decided I always needed a backup plan. People don’t like it when their vet turns up looking like he went full American Psycho on his last client.”

My laugh bursts out of me before I can stop it. “Yeah, I’d probably think twice about lettin’ someone covered in blood look after my dog if I had one.”

He grins and then gets distracted looking around the cottage. It’s all one open-plan space, with timber walls painted white, polished timber floors, a queen-sized bed, a potbelly stove fireplace, a little kitchenette and a tiny table with two golden-hued timber chairs. On the far side of the room from the front door, there’s another door which leads to the bathroom: a cozy space with a shower over a claw-footed tub, a vanity and a toilet.

“This is really sweet,” Ryan says, smiling softly as he takes it all in. “I can understand why Rob is booked out on weekends and holidays.”

Most of the guest cabins here have the same layout, but some are a little bigger and have an additional bedroom toaccommodate for families. There’s also the honeymoon cabin, too. That one is just like this one, only it has a larger fireplace and a corner spa tub. All-in-all, there are eight guest cottages on site, and Rob has plans to build more over time.

I nod. “It’s a working station, but when you drive out tomorrow —follow the gravel road back down to the main house, then from there head on down to the gate— you’ll head past what we call the petting zoo: the pens where the pigs are kept, the sheep paddock, and the chicken coop. People really love the sheep for some reason.”

“There’s a lot going on here,” he muses. “No wonder Rob’s got so many staff.”

“He gets extra hands in at peak times, too. He’s a fair boss, and he’s got a good schedule goin’ for runnin’ the place. I really lucked out gettin’ a job here.”

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