Page 12 of Lassoed Love

As I rev the engine, the tractor lurches forward, tires rolling over the uneven terrain. The rhythmic hum of the engine drowns out the surrounding quiet, and I find solace in the comforting routine of farm life. Leaning back in the worn seat, I engage in a one-sided conversation with Buddy, discussing the day's tasks and the peculiarities of our livestock. Buddy barks intermittently, his canine responses punctuating the steady drone of the engine.

In the monotonous rhythm of farm work, my mind involuntarilydrifts to the years spent toiling under the sun, shaping this land. It’s the only life I’ve ever known. While Bradley ventured into law enforcement and Liv pursued business studies at university, I remained tethered to the farm—whether out of duty, loyalty, or a simple lack of imagination.

As the tractor navigates the open fields, my thoughts betray me, leading to none other than Isla Thompson. I can’t help but wonder about her city life, the path she chose. The realisation hits me like a ton of bricks, and I shake my head in disbelief.

What the fuck.Now well and truly annoyed that thoughts of Isla have involuntarily invaded my mind.

I sigh. “Today is going to be a long fucking day.”Just like every other day.

The absurdity of it all doesn’t escape me, and I continue manoeuvring through the fields, determined to drown out these unwelcome musings with the sounds of the engine and Buddy’s barks.

7

Another week has passed and the following Thursday rolls in—the afternoon sun now streaming through the clinic's windows, casting a warm glow over the stainless steel surfaces and the distinct scent of antiseptic. Molly, my enthusiastic seventeen-year-old assistant, in her final years of high school, and I gather around Nala, who recently underwent surgery for elbow dysplasia.

“Alright, Nala, time for a wash, pretty girl,” I say, giving her a reassuring pat. Molly chuckles, nodding in agreement. As the warm water cascades over Nala’s fur, I can’t help but appreciate the simplicity of the moment. The poor girl’s a bit drowsy—but hey, she’s giving us the eye like she's the queen of the joint, ready for her royal wash and blow-dry treatment.She’s a sassy girl, this one.

We go about the process with efficiency, shampooing and rinsing Nala’s thick coat. The warm water is soothing, and Nala seems to enjoy the attention. Molly handles the shampooing, and I take over the rinsing duties, ensuring not a single bubble is left behind.

This clinic is practically famous for its pet spa vibes. I’ve only been working here for almost a month and the clinic has becomethe talk of the town. I mean, we've got pampering down to an art. The previous owners didn't have pet washing on the menu, but new management, new rules. Post-surgery, we roll out the red carpet—or, in this case, the wet towels. It's like a little thank-you treatment for our fur babies. We’re basically the Intercontinental for dogs. And you know what they say, happy dogs, happy owners. It's practically a quote from a canine philosophy book orsomething—don’t quote me…

Molly, quickly glancing at me and ever the gossip enthusiast, shoots me a sly smile.

“Sooo… What’s the deal with you and the mysterious cowboy?”What is it with this cowboy term?

I freeze for a moment, genuinely surprised. “Who told you?” I ask, my eyes narrowing.

Molly simply grins. “Who else?” she replies, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

I roll mine.Katy. Of course.

“I need all the deets!!” she exclaims while patting Nala dry with a fluffy white towel. I shake my head whilst grabbing the blow dryer, plugged in from underneath us, and turn it on, drawing out Molly as she rambles on, too enthusiastically for my liking.Where does she find all this energy, man?

She pouts, clearly hoping for juicier details. “Come on, Isla! There must be something more. What did he say? What did heLOOKlike?” She enunciates the word ‘look’ by widening her eyes and wiggling her eyebrows.Teens these days.

“It was a professional encounter, not a meet-cute. Shoosh!" I say, a hint of a smile on my face. I halt.Wha–What the fuck... why am I smiling? Because you find him attractive, you idiot.

“Oi! I see your smile. You’re hiding something, Isla Thompson,” she shouts over the blow dryer. I just ignore her, hoping she’ll give it up.She doesn’t—who am I kidding—insert the annoyed emoji face.That would describe my expression right about now.

“Fine, be all secretive. But I’m getting the scoop one way or another!” she quips.

As Molly and I continue our buoyant conversation, my phone buzzes with an incoming FaceTime call from Imogen. Intrigued by the unexpected interruption, I shoot her an apologetic glance and excuse myself from Nala's little pampering session.

“Give me just a minute, Molly. Keep Nala looking fabulous,” I instruct, stepping out of the room to answer Imogen's call.

Imogen's face lights up on the screen, her mischievous grin already telling me there's more to this call than meets the eye. “Hi, Gorg!!!” she exclaims, and before I can utter a greeting back, dives straight into the conversation.

“Claire’s rolling into town on Saturday! Got herself a big-girl promotion, and she’s coming to party with us—I think she’ll be flying down tomorrow arvo."

My eyes widen in genuine excitement. Claire's promotion is amazing news, and the prospect of another weekend catch up amplifies the joy. I can't help but smile.

“Oh, beaut! That’s amazing, Midge! She can crash at mine. I’ve gotmy comfy sofa bed waiting for her.”

Imogen nods appreciatively. “That beats my ancient sofa any day, and don’t get me started on Dad’s epic snore symphony.” She chuckles, and I can't help but join in.

Our spontaneous get-togethers are practically stand-up comedy nights, and with Claire's big news, this one is gearing up to be another showstopper. Despite the chaos of last weekend's shenanigans, I genuinely do enjoy a night out with the girls. These don’t happen often—when I lived in the city, we were lucky if we managed to get together once a month. I hadn’t even managed to see Claire that often, and she didn’t live far from me at all. Now that I'm back home, we're making up for lost time. I’d feel bad about standing up the girls this time, especially with Claire flying up. It’s not something that would be convenient for her, but it's Claire—always willing to go all out for others. I just can't seem to shake the feeling that this weekend might just spring a few more surprises on us than we bargained for.

With the afternoon sun doing its farewell performance, casting a deep, warm orange glow across the clinic's interior, I'm doing my best to wrap things up. Flicking off the lights one by one, I play janitor for a moment, ensuring every nook and cranny is secure. Another day in the thrilling world of veterinary practice has come and gone. Molly’s already halfway home, Katy left an hour ago andNala, our star of the day, is back in the arms of her grateful owner, Mirette. Rumour has it, homemade Pavlova is coming my way this week as a token of appreciation.Pavlova… Well, twist my arm, why don’t ya?

---