Page 7 of Autumn be His Wife
Seems like we’re both doomed when it comes to relationships. The future is looking shaky for everyone involved. It’s almost laughable.
The cab of my truck is cooler after dropping Eli off, the silence heavy without his energetic chatter filling every corner.Piper stares out the window at the flat, endless land, her hands folded quietly in her lap.
Her eyes have flickered toward me a few times, but she’s kept her lips pressed together like a zipper closed.
“The clinic’s just another ten minutes,” I say, just to break the silence. “I’m a vet. Ranch calls me out for their stock, but I’ve got a small practice in town for everything else.”
I see her turn toward me in my periphery. A soft, almost disbelieving laugh escapes her. It’s a good sound. The first real one I’ve heard from her in what feels like an eternity.
“That explains the scrubs,” she says, and I can hear the smile in her voice without having to look. “I was curious, but I didn’t want to overstep again.”
She hasn’t overstepped a single time. Damn.
“Please, if you want to know something, just ask.” The words come out a little rougher than I intended. I clear my throat. “I’m not much of a mystery. What you see is what you get.”
It’s only half true. I want her to ask. I want the excuse it gives me to turn the questions back on her, to learn the shape of her life before it gets tangled up with the need to escape.
“So what will we be doing?” she asks, her voice pulling me from my thoughts.
“You’ll tag along with me through my work day,” I say, keeping my tone even. “Might be a little boring—vaccinations, a few check-ups. But while we’re in town, I can ask around. See if anyone’s heard of the man you’re looking for.”
The offer leaves a vile taste in my mouth, but it’s the right thing to do. The only thing. The thought of actually finding this man makes my grip tighten on the steering wheel.
A more practical thought surfaces, a distraction from the dread. “Your phone’s gone. We should stop somewhere and get you a new one. You can’t be without one.”
She shifts in her seat, and I don’t have to look to know she’s blushing. The heat of her embarrassment seems to fill the cab. “I…I don’t really have money for that right now.”
Everything in me is screaming. An impossible-to-ignore instinct to just fix it. To pull over at the next store and get her a phone, a coat more suitable for the weather, anything she needs. To be the wall between her and the world that’s left her so exposed.
What the hell is wrong with me? I barely know her. I want to give myself a shake to knock some sense into me. Replace these feelings with a reminder of reality.
Pity is one thing. I’ve felt pity for lost dogs and injured calves. This isn’t that. This is a compulsion, a need to provide, to protect, that’s so deep it feels like it’s etched into my bones.
I don’t want to buy her things out of pity. I want to do it because the thought of her being scared, or alone, or unable to call for help, is physically unbearable.
It’s a dangerous line of thinking. One I have no business following.
The clinic comes into view, a modest brick building with my name listed with a couple of other colleagues, and a paw print stenciled on the window. Across the toes; Meadow Haven Animal Care. My stomach knots.
What are my aids, Mary and Ben, going to think? Showing up with a strange woman, one so far out of my league that it’s not funny.
It’s unprofessional. I’m overstepping by bringing my personal mess to work.
Yet, the thought of leaving her at my home doesn’t sit right. I don’t want her to feel more lonely than she already does.
I kill the engine, and the silence is suddenly loud. Piper’s hand goes to the door handle, and I’m out of my seat in a flash.“Don’t. It’s prone to sticking,” I mutter, my voice gruffer than intended.
I round the front of the truck, my boots crunching on the gravel. Tugging at the door, the whole thing whines at a lack of use. Since I won’t let Eli ride up front until he’s older, my passenger side typically stays bare.
Piper’s already turned in her seat, her legs swung toward the open door, looking down at me as I catch myself looking back.
No, not looking. Gawking.
The morning sun catches the hidden streaks of gold in her hair and the faint dusting of freckles across her nose. Her eyes are wide, a little uncertain, and so bluish green.
The rain had dampened her appearance, but the sun is now drawing out her beauty.
She’s so pretty it’s like a physical blow. My brain short-circuits, wiping clean any coherent thought. There is only her, framed in the doorway of my beat-up truck.
