Page 6 of Memories of Us

Rebeka

MY SKIN HEATED TO ANuncomfortable level through the back of my T-shirt where it touched the hot metal of the truck door, but I didn't pay it any attention. The only thing I focused on was Ryder's words.

“You're kidding me,” I breathed into the phone pressed between my ear and shoulder, where sweat immediately made the screen slippery.

“Nope. The rumor mill says the whole family will be in town for it. Three days, Beka. Three. Did you hear that part?” Ryder asked. Sympathy and concern poured through each word. “What will it be, face him or hide?”

“I won't hide from him again,” I grumbled. “I missed my chance to confront him at Caleb's—”

“Dr. Harding,” called the man I'd completely forgotten was around.

“Shit. Have to run. I'll call you later.” I ended the call, slipped the phone into the back pocket of my Wranglers, and forced a broad smile as I turned to face my client. With the hem of my Texas A&M T-shirt, I wiped the sweat from my upper lip as he jogged closer.

So over this day.

So over yesterday.

And the day before that.

Who was I kidding, I was just over this. Too bad I still had a shit ton of student loans to pay back before I could even think about choosing another career.

“Hey,” the man exhaled loudly at my side. “Thanks for coming by and checking on Stella. I know it was a last-minute call, but I was worried about my girl. It's her first.”

“And yours?” I asked with an arched brow. Newbies, so overprotective.

The young man pulled his Stetson down low over his brow and grumbled, “That obvious?”

With a comforting pat on his shoulder, I tossed my supply bag into the bed of the old Ford. “She'll be fine. Just let nature take its course. If she seems in pain or can't deliver on her own, then call me and I'll come back out. But from checking her just now, I'd say you're waiting for another two to three weeks.”

His groan of frustration grated my already frayed nerves. The day started twelve hours ago, and in this heat, I had zero patience left.

Looking to the barn, he shrugged. “Women. Always running on your own schedule, am I right?”

The earlier smile fell from my lips and turned to a scowl. “I'd say it’s more about the proper gestation period needed for a healthy colt. We want the babe in there to cook a little longer so he or she comes out healthy. Agree?”

Chastised, he hung his head and gave a slight nod.

Not waiting any longer to get out of there, I swung open the driver side door and hauled myself onto the bench seat. Immediately my already sweaty ass and thighs suctioned to my jeans as the heat from the fake leather seeped in. Hell, it was too hot for June. What did we do to deserve this early heat wave?

If it weren't a complete blasphemy for a Daughter of the Republic to curse the state of Texas, I'd be wishing the whole state would go to hell. Even though it felt like we were already there.

Add in that I chose not to fix the air conditioning this winter as I’d promised myself I would, and my shitty day just went from awful to... well, shitty.

At a four-way stop, I banged my forehead against the hard steering wheel. Why didn't I ever make things easy for myself?

Each bump along the unlit county road elicited a creative string of curse words. It was pitch black past the dim headlights due to the zero streetlights around, making every turn treacherous. I should have left over an hour ago, but that didn't happen. And they call women chatty. In the past year I’d been out of school, I'd met more lonely, isolated ranchers wanting to talk my ear off for hours than any woman in Midland.

That could be me though.

My unladylike talk and sailor's mouth didn't win any points with the self-important women my age around here. Which sucked because once you got past my somewhat gruff exterior, I was a girly girl. Beneath these dirty, horse-shit-covered boots and sweat-soaked socks, my toes were perfectly manicured and painted a deep purple to match my nails. I devoured blog after blog of beauty products and had a month’s salary worth of face shit beneath the bathroom sink. I loved Hallmark Channel movies and enjoyed a good glass of white wine with an even better conversation. And of course, like any proper lady, I enjoyed a man who treated me like a lady in public but spanked my ass behind closed doors.

See, girly girl.

The glowing city lights of Midland shimmered in the distance, easing a bit of tension from my shoulders. It’d been home for over a few years now, but it still felt foreign turning toward it instead of heading the forty minutes west to my childhood home.

After graduating from Texas A&M, I took the first large animal vet job offered, and it just happened to be here. I didn't mind, because I loved West Texas. The sunsets on a clear day could still take my breath away, and the rough hands of a rancher or sunspots on an older woman's face were worn with pride instead of shame.

It was crazy that I ended up here, so close to home, considering I went seven hours away to College Station to put as much distance between me and the memories as possible. Away from the looks and stares of every person who thought they knew me and the real story. Even all these years later, if you listened to the gossips in town, you'd learn of the young, naïve country girl who foolishly fell for a man she'd never have a shot at keeping. They were correct about one piece. I did fall for him. Fell hard. Fifteen-year-old girls only fall one way—desperately, all-consuming, devastatingly in love.

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