Page 27 of A Cozy Holiday
“I need something to keep my hands busy. Probably why my boss forced me to take this vacation.”
His brow lifts. “Your boss forced you? I thought you said the clinic was under reconstruction.”
Fuck. Didn’t mean to let that tidbit slip.
“It is under construction…”
“And?”
“I work a lot,” I sigh. “But I love it. Miriam, my boss, just worries too much.”
“You do have the vibe of someone who works too much.”
“You just met me.”
“Doesn’t mean I can’t read you, Doc.” He leans against the stall door, entirely too casual. “Though I didn’t peg you for someone who likes getting their hands dirty.”
I cross my arms, trying not to look rattled. “For your information, I’m usually filthy.” He runs his thumb and pointer finger over his mustache, looking entirely too amused. “Not like that—I mean…” I groan, rubbing my temples. “I’m a surgeon. By the end of the day, I’m covered in, you know, fluids.”
“Right.” He’s clearly biting back a laugh. And it’s diabolical how good he looks doing it.
“All I’m saying is that I want to stay busy while I’m here, so I’d like to help.” My tone comes out sharper than I intended.
“Okay.” He relents easily. “I’ll fill the wheelbarrow with hay, then I can show you how to feed the animals.”
“Thanks.” I glance around the barn, eager to redirect myself back into competence. “Also, I noticed yesterday that you’ve got all the sick reindeer in one pen.” I point to the largest stall in the center. “We need to separate them. They might look similar symptom-wise, but we need to monitor food and water intake individually. You did the right thing keeping them apart from the herd, but together isn’t much better.”
“You’re bossy.”
I grin. “I’m literally helping for free.”
He chuckles, tousling his messy brown curls. “Fair point. Let’s prep the stalls with feed first.”
Jamie turns to the giant mound of hay bales, hauls himself on top, and starts tossing flakes into the wheelbarrow with ease. His forearms flex as he works, and my stomach does a little flip-flop. Jamie is built like someone who could protect me from a charging moose. He’s sturdy, with a stupidly attractive dad bod. He’s wearing a faded gray T-shirt with a worn logo from some old hockey team, the fabric already damp with sweat and clinging to his lats and shoulders, every ridge and curve of muscle outlined as he moves.
I stare. Probably a little too openly.
“You like what you see?” Jamie asks without looking down.
“Yes,” I say before I can stop myself.
That gets his attention. He glances over, the corner of his mouth curving. “You’re honest. I’ll give you that.”
I shrug, feigning casual, even as heat creeps into my face. “I read an article yesterday that said flirting is supposed to reduce stress. Consider me testing the theory.”
“And I’m the lab rat?”
“More like the strong, hay-slinging, nice-mustache-wearing control variable.”
His laugh rumbles low. “If being ogled comes with compliments like that, I can live with it.”
“Good,” I say, still watching him work. “Because I’m not done with my experiment yet.”
He jumps down from the bales and lands in front of me. A stray piece of hay clings to the brim of his cowboy hat. I reach up and pluck it off, flicking it to the ground, and bite my cheek to stop myself from smiling.
“Thanks.” He tilts his head down, gaze locked on mine. It’s like staring into an endless grassy field on a spring day.
“What’s next?” I croak.
