Page 15 of A Cozy Holiday
“I don’t know.” I straighten, smoothing out my hair.
“Is that why you’re leaving?”
“Um—”
“God, Joy, you’d think I’d let a vegetarian work on a meat plant?”
“I didn’t know. We are strangers.”
Jamie stares at me, then bursts out laughing. Not polite chuckles but full-bodied, doubled-over laughter. “Could you imagine, though?” He takes off his cowboy hat, ruffling his hair underneath. “That’s a whole world of fucked up.”
“You’re telling me.” I exhale a deep breath I’ve been holding since catching Parker two days ago. “I thought you were gonna have me inject these animals with hormones before you cut their heads off.”
“Gruesome mind.” Jamie contorts his face into a semi-impressed-slash-should-I-be-afraid-of-this-woman grin. He closes the distance between us, boots crunching on the hay. He places a gloved hand on his chest. “I can promise you that I’ve never eaten a reindeer. Sometimes, by the time I rescue the little guys, all I can do is make their last few days comfortable. The living conditions people keep these animals in are horrendous.”
“Well, maybe lead with ‘sanctuary’ next time,” I snap, trying not to smile. “Instead of ominously telling me you ‘need help with reindeer.’”
“Fair.”
I push my hair behind my ears.“So all of the critters out there are rescues?”
“Yep. Took over the business from my pops when he retired. Ever since I was a kid, we’ve been taking reindeer out of terrible conditions. Doesn’t pay well, but it feels good. You’d be shocked how people treat them.”
The concern in his voice is real, and so is the ache in my chest. I would take care of animals even if I went broke doing it.
Jamie actually may be a good person.
It looks like Operation: Holiday Fling is back on the table.
“I wouldn’t,” I say quietly. “You’re talking to someone who stitches up neglected pets weekly.”
His expression softens. “Guess we’re both in the business of fixing what other people break.”
That hits somewhere I’m not ready to touch.
Arrietty bellows again, a deep, throaty sound that echoes off the rafters, and stamps her left hoof, the vibration rattling through the wooden floor.
“Right. Back to work.” I press the stethoscope to her chest, left side first, finding the mitral valve. No murmurs. Next, I move my hands along both sides of her belly, pushing gently into her thick winter coat. I’m feeling for anything unusual—too tight, too soft, anything that feels out of place. Then I find it, a firm bump on the right side, something solid pressing back against my palm. A hoof, maybe. Or a nose.
“There’s nothing better than delivering babies,” I say, looking over my shoulder.
Jamie’s leaning against the stall gate, his arms crossed, one boot propped on the lowest rail. The work light overhead catches the stubble along his jaw.
He opens his mouth to speak, but Arrietty interrupts with a long, rumbling, absolutely impressive belch that seems to start somewhere near her hooves and rolls up through her entire digestive tract like thunder. Then she bumps her nose against the sleeve of my jacket, leaving a snotty trail, and saunters off toward her corner feeder as if nothing happened.
I cackle. “She just had gas.” I watch Jamie cover his nose with a hand. “Huh, I thought a country boy like you would have a thicker nose.”
He lets out a deep laugh. “I like you, Joy.” Shock must be splattered all over my face because he adds, “Guess you don’t hear that a lot.”
“On good days I do.”
When I’m not being blamed for things I can’t control. When I’m not the bearer of bad news. When I’m not second-guessing every decision I’ve ever made.
“Vet life must be tough.” Jamie crosses to Arrietty and scratches her behind the ear, right in that sweet spot where her fuzzy coat meets the velvet of her skin.
“It is tough, but worth it.”
“Now that you know I’m not some backwoods butcher, will you stay and help out?”
