Page 9 of Pumpkin Patch Cutie
He laughed. “True. Ok, noodles it is.”
We started across the parking lot, but we’d barely made it as far as the handicapped spaces when he grabbed my hand.
I glanced down, then up at him. He merely smiled at me.
It was nice, like he just wanted to touch me, and that was the only way he could right then. I squeezed his hand to let him know that I liked it, and smiled at the satisfied hum I got in return.
A few minutes later we were at a table in a quiet corner, and I silently started to panic, realizing that I had no idea what I wanted to talk about. What could I possibly say to impress him?
Dom reached across the table and rested his hand on mine, immediately settling my nerves.
“So whose idea was it to visit the pumpkin patch?” he asked, thumb tracing the back of my hand. “Yours or Madison’s?”
I licked my lips. “Actually, it was my brother Tyler’s. They’d gone as a family last year and he remembered how much Madison liked it.”
“Had you ever been before?”
I held back a shiver at the continued contact. Why was just his hand on mine so good? “First time.”
“I hope that Madison getting lost in the maze didn’t taint your opinion.”
I held up both hands, and shook my head. Then I realized I’d flung off his hand in my movement. “I… of course not. It was my problem, not anything you did. Besides, you all worked so hard to find her right away.”
He smiled, and I couldn’t help but notice how his hand sought mine again.
I decided to be a bit bold, and twined my fingers with his rather than just accepting the warm touch.
He beamed at me, a sign that it had been the right action.
“So… um…” I started. “What’s it like working on a farm?”
He chuckled. “I wouldn’t really know.”
I cocked my head to one side. “What do you mean? Are you just a temp for the season?”
“Kind of,” he chuckled. “I just moved back to Valle Granja. I’m in the process of opening my own business, and my uncle Robert suggested that I help out while waiting for my state license in order to meet everybody and establish myself in the community.”
I blinked. “Business? License? What do you do?”
He ran his free hand through his hair. “I’m a livestock vet.”
“You’re not joining an established practice?”
He shook his head. “From what uncle Robert has told me, their old vet retired, and the guy who bought out the practice hasn’t been very good. He significantly upped the prices, and seems to require far more repeat visits than the ranchers around here think are warranted.”
He paused. “It’s not like people whose career is animal husbandry are clueless about the health of their livestock. They know the signs of sick animals, and when they started talking they realized that this guy was doing this to everybody. Then, because he’s constantly trying to milk them all with extra visits, it’s hard to get him to come out for actual emergencies. Not a good plan to associate with somebody like that.”
I frowned. “Why do they put up with it?”
Dom shrugged and pulled his hand back as our waitress set down a plate of appetizers. “They really didn’t have much of a choice. There’s a vet shortage nationwide, and that includes livestock vets. You deal with who you’ve got until another option comes along.”
“So you decided to move here from…?”
He smiled, briefly glancing at where my hand was still on the table. “I was up in Wyoming before. I’d even been thinking about buying out the practice I was with up there since the owner was getting on in years.”
“What made you come down here then?”
He smiled. “Uncle Robert asked. He told me about the guy down here and how shady everything was, and I knew that the community here needed somebody they could trust. Besides, family takes care of their own.”
