Page 35 of The Front Runner
Challenge accepted.
12
Mira
I’m watchingHank trot Brite Lite in a straight line away from me, but I’m thinking about Stefan.
I’m supposed to be watching the pretty gray mare to see where I think the hitch in her step is coming from, and instead I’m replaying the feel of his hand when he wrapped it around my thigh. It’s driving me to distraction.
He’sdriving me to distraction.
Exactly what I’ve always promised myself I wouldn’t let a man do. Let alone a man like Stefan. It’s complicated. His entire persona is sketched in blurry lines, and I’m worried I’m getting lost in that fuzz. When I took Billie to see Loki today, I found myself constantly looking around, hoping to catch even a glimpse of him.
I have a savior complex. You don’t become a veterinarian or medical professional without that facet to your personality. And everything he’s shared over the last several days about his mom, his dad, his upbringing… it’s got a stranglehold on my savior complex.
He really is like an injured rat. He grosses everyone out. And I’m drawn in. I want to swoop in and bandage up his broken parts. Watch them heal.
Seeing animals, and people, heal is my catnip. It’s what fills my cup. I’ve seen it with my friends over the last couple of years, and it never fails to make me smile.
I shouldn’t want to fill my cup with Stefan.
But I do.
And now I feel like I’m drowning in a man who is only dragging me along in his game to one-up my best friend. I’m a pawn. And I’m smart enough to know better.
“So? What do you think?” Hank huffs over the sound of aluminum horseshoes clopping on the paved driveway out front.
Busted.And I’m making the old man work for it, no less, while I daydream about enemy number one.
“Just catch your breath. And then one more loop around the driveway. I think it might be up in her stifle.” I was watching—sort of—but I still feel like a total asshole. “Take you for a drink after?”
Trixie is in the city working right now, so Hank is lonely sometimes. I can tell by the way he hangs around. By the way he pops into the clinic just to chat.
He flashes me one of his big grins, followed by a wink of a twinkly green eye. He has a distinct Robert Redford vibe going on that, if I were older, I would certainly appreciate. He’s one of the good ones. That’s for sure.
“I’m gonna need a cold one after this workout, Dr. Thorne.” He turns the mare around to trot away again. But not before tossing out a casual, “Try not to daydream this time!”
So busted.
I offer to drive into Ruby Creek’s favorite watering hole, Neighbor’s Pub. And we even manage to get my favorite table at the back near the fireplace. Spring is here in the valley, but it’s damp and cool today. The weather just seems to swing back and forth this time of year, between a warm taste of summer and then a cold jolt of winter. Today is that, and I’m happy to be seated next to the crackling fire with a beer on the way.
Usually, I’m here with Billie and Violet, and sometimes they even bring Vaughn and Cole. Both of whom I like. A lot. But I feel distinctly out of place as the single friend that gets dragged along on those nights, so it’s nice to hit happy hour with just Hank.
Hank folds himself into the seat across from me and looks around with a bemused smile on his face. “Love this place,” he murmurs.
“Me too,” I agree, picking up the plastic menu to figure out what I want, right as the waitress hustles over with our pints.
This pub is the quintessential small town meeting spot. Stained glass shades over the lamps, mismatched captain’s chairs at every dark-stained table, and old-school burgundy carpets on the floor. There’s even a jukebox in the corner.
“You eating, too?” he asks.
“I think I might,” I reply. “Cooking every night for just one person is kind of soul-sucking.” I blurt it out without even considering that Hank has been doing exactly that for probably his entire life. “Sorry,” I add on with a twist of my lips.
“Don’t be. It’s true. I’d be lying if I said I don’t spend every week looking forward to Sunday night dinners with all you kids. A date at my favorite pub with Dr. Thorne isn’t so bad either.”
I laugh. “Maybe we should make it a regular thing. A special club for the only two people not totally shacked up on the ranch.”
The waitress swings by and takes our orders. A burger for each of us.
