Page 15 of Coiled Tight
Cam laughed in response.
Helaughed. With me.
How often did I hear the sound when he knew I was in hearing range? Not often enough.
Fuck.
When did I become this fucking corny?
It was a good thing that, laughter aside, Cam followed myinstructions and quickly returned with a bridle from the stables. Mercury stood still while Cam rubbed his neck before wrapping the leather around his head. He was a good horse. Confident, but patient.
It would do Cam good to spend some time around that kind of energy.
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My phone rang literally three seconds after I got inside the house.
It was Saúl.
“What’s up?” I frowned at the time. First, he didn’t usually call. Or text, for that matter. Second, he was the one who insisted on me taking breaks. Lately, the only way for him to let me out of the house when I didn’t have a shift was if I was heading to see Mercury. I wasn’t riding him yet, but I’d missed being around horses more than I realized, and he seemed to respect that bond, at least. “Do you need me to get something?”
Was I jumping ten steps ahead? Well, yeah. That was how I rolled, but… Seriously, what was it with people calling like that was a perfectly normal thing to do?
It was not.
“How much do you know about dogs?”
“Huh?”
Rule number one of dealing with someone struggling with anxiety: do not make them more confused than they already are.
It didn’t feel nice.
“Someone fucking abandoned a pregnant dog at the entrance. She looks ready to pop, too, and in poor shape.”
And I was guessing he didn’t think we had time or the ability to move her so that a vet who actually specialized in dogs could take her.
I cursed. At least now my heart was beating fast for a different reason, one that was somewhat easier to manage.
“I’m the only option?”
I was heading out the door as I asked, but I needed to think, and I thought best on the move—and while someone was giving me something to pay attention to.
“Sofía’s out, so… yeah.”
Right. She’d had a day in court to testify about the injuries to one of the horses they’d rescued a few years back. No lie, when she told me, I panicked that would have to be me sooner rather than later, what with the bigger animals' backgrounds, but this wasn’t the time to fret about an undisclosed future.
“What do you mean she’s in poor shape? Breathing? Gum color pale at all? Weakness? Bleeding?”
For the past few weeks, I’d had to fight the ignition in the red truck Saúl had said I could use. Today, someone had to be smiling down at me because the engine started right away.
“I’m not sure. I can see her ribs a bit, but I can’t tell you if it’s?—”
“Do I have time to drive her to the vet lair, or should I just stop to grab everything real quick?”
If anyone was asking, Sofía was the one who gave the name to the care facility, not me.
