Page 4 of All Grown Up at Mountain Creek Ranch
I throw my hands up in the air in frustration. "I am ready because the calf was born and is fine."
“What if something had happened?”
"But, it didn't."
“But it could have.”
I push away from the breakfast table and stand up. "I'm done having this conversation. You may not trust me to be a competent vet, but others do and want to give me a shot."
My father’s face shifts from anger to something I can’t read. “You’ve had other offers?”
“Yes, a few. And I’m starting to realize that if I want a chance to do this work, I’m going to have to consider what they are offering.”
I don't bother to wait for a response. I've said all I need to tell him. It was stupid of me to think that he was ever going to give me a chance. He looks at me and sees a child, not a grown woman. I can’t keep banging my fists trying to make him see anything else.
I grab the keys to the truck and head out the door. I told Landon I’d stop by today to check on Greta. She may be my one and only patient in Centennial Springs, but I’m going to do right by her.
I pull up the Holloway’s drive twenty minutes later. I can see Landon on top of the barn roof working on something. His shirt is off and tucked into the back pocket of his jeans, and I can’t help but admire the contours of his back muscles with each movement as he works.
I stop and get out of the truck. Landon hears me shut the door and looks down. A sweet smile spreads across his face when he sees it's me. Heat pools in my lower belly, despite my brain yelling at me not to fall for this guy. I give him a wave, and he returns it before walking over to the ladder. My heart rate picks up nervously, worried he could slip and fall. But he climbs down with no trouble and jumps the last few rungs, and lands on the ground safely.
"You should have something to harness you while you're up there," I tell him.
“Aww, are you worried about me?” he teases.
“No,” I scoff. “I’m worried about Greta. If you fall and break your neck, who will take care of her then?”
Landon steps closer, and suddenly he feels too close, especially without a shirt on. "It's okay to admit your growing feelings for me."
I roll my eyes and walk towards the barn doors. “Put your shirt on.”
I can hear him chuckle behind me, and I can't help but smile to myself. It's been a while since a guy has flirted with me. I was always too busy studying during school ever to get serious with a guy. Most of the time, I'd find someone to help take the edge off—we'd hook up, and I'd send him packing before he had a chance to spend the night.
"How's Momma and the baby doing?" I ask, putting down my bag and stepping up to Greta.
“She and the calf are good,” Landon says, leaning against the wall. Thankfully he listened to my request and put on his shirt.
I get to work doing a follow up on Greta and then the calf. Each is doing fine. Although I'm sure if my father were here, he'd find something to complain about.
“Well, everything looks good here,” I say.
“Do you want to stay for a cup of coffee?” he asks.
I think about the cup I didn’t drink on the breakfast table this morning. I hadn't had a chance to drink it, and I can already feel the faint ache of a caffeine headache coming on. My stomach gurgles from having missed breakfast in my rush, not to have to deal with my father. I feel the heat flood my cheeks in embarrassment, but Landon doesn't laugh.
“Are you hungry?” He points over his shoulder towards the house. “My sister, Willow, just dropped off her weekly sampler of breakfast items she’s thinking of selling at her bakery. She likes to use us as her guinea pigs to try new items out.”
I’ve been to Willow’s bakery in town,Sugar Gravel. It’s a weird name, but she makes the best blueberry scones I’ve ever tasted. My stomach gurgles again but louder this time.
“Don’t you have work you need to get back to?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “I’ve been up since dawn working. I’m ready for a break. Come on.”
I follow him into the house. The kitchen is clean and smells faintly of bacon. I sit down at the table and watch as Landon brews a new pot of coffee.
“Help yourself.” He points to the sampler tray sitting on the table. It’s filled will all sorts of breakfast desserts like muffins, pecan rolls, fruit strudels, and scones.
I lift the lid and go for what I’m assuming is a cranberry scone. I take a bite, and I'm right, but there is a hint of lemon too.
