Page 27 of Stables

Going as fast as I can, I limp to grab it off of the top of the shelf.

That stretch hurt.

Another rap against the wood makes my heart race.

Panic flutters through me, and my hands shake as I get closer to the handle.

Please don’t be Matt.

Maybe it’s the sheriff?

But the dispatcher already texted.

They would have called, right?

I’m too short to look through the small peephole, and terrified to unlock the deadbolt.

My forehead presses against the smooth paneling, wishing I had a window close enough to sneak a peek.

“Who is it?” Damn. My voice cracked.

“Dr. McCullough.”

Not what I expected.

Fire courses through my chest as Libby’s words make a rapid staccato through my mind.

Hot doctor.

Over and over.

Stop. Take a second.

I’m standing here with a gun in one hand, and a bottle of medicine in the other.

What is wrong with this picture?

Sliding the pistol into the top drawer of the end table, I unlatch the heavy lock.

He looks different than last night. Jeans hug his thick thighs and he has on a blue t-shirt that looks like it was painted across his wide chest.

But topping it off is a black cowboy hat that almost covers his chestnut eyes.

Holy shit.

“Char.” He breathes out my name. “I hope I’m not intruding? I wanted to check and see how Paisley was doing.”

I feel silly standing here staring.

“Um, sure. I just got her down and noticed she was warm again.” Stepping back, I feel tiny next to him as he brushes past me.

“Has she been running a fever all day?” Clasping his leather bag, he moves near the end of the couch just inside the entry.

“No, she’s seemed okay this morning. It wasn’t until just now I noticed she was hot.” I watch him shift his weight.

Is he nervous?

He glances down at the floor, then toes off his cowboy boots. “I feel crappy that I didn’t take them off last night. I’m sorry if I made a mess.”

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