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In contrast, he’s grinning. His lips spread crookedly and he says, “Just what I like to see; Miss Vivica and my girl in one place.”

“Are you following me?” I cast him a beady-eyed accusatory look before diverting my gaze back to Buttercup.

He chuckles. “Following you? A little conceited, don’t you think?”

“I think it’s not a coincidence you always seem to turn up where I am…”

“Actually, I visit Buttercup three, sometimes four, times a day. More when she’s not feeling well. If anything, you’re on my turf.”

I scoff at the ludicrous claim.

He’s flirting—that much is obvious by his amused, playful tone—but it doesn’t make it any less silly.

“I’m doing my job,” I say stiffly.

“I can see, and what a fine job you’ve done caring for my girl. How’s she doing?”

“The respiratory infection has responded to the antibiotics even faster than I expected. Her lung sounds are almost completely clear, and there’s no more nasal discharge. From what I hear, her appetite’s also returned,” I explain. “I’m going to taper her off the antibiotics over the next two days and monitor for any regression, but at this rate, she should be fully recovered by the weekend.”

Rhett steps deeper into the stall and runs his hand along Buttercup’s neck. The mare leans into his touch, her eyes half closing in contentment.

I’d be lying if I said the tenderness in the gesture doesn’t make me soften. I’ve always loved animals, and when I see a man who does too, it’s an instant turn on.

Craig always hated them.

…which is what made it even crueler that he fought so hard in the divorce settlement to keep our family dog, Samson.

“Good to hear,” Rhett says. “She scared me earlier this week. I don’t like not being here when she’s hurting. Thankfully she was in good hands.”

I peel off my gloves and distract myself by packing up my vet bag.

The weight of Rhett’s hazel eyes is poignant. Heavy and inescapable.

“So, how do I repay you, doc?”

“You don’t. This is literally my job.”

“That’s understood. But you took extra-special care of her. I’d like to be able to thank you for it.” He edges closer, his warm hand coming to rest on my shoulder. The contact sends an instant jolt through me, forcing my gaze up to his. “That dinner invitation still stands, Miss Vivica. If you ever change your mind... I’d love to take you out sometime.”

I shake my head and stammer out, “R-Rhett⁠—”

“Nothing serious. Like I said, just a thank you for looking after my girl.”

His thumb brushes against my collarbone so briefly I blink and question if I’m imagining the subtle, affectionate touch.

Then he’s turning and stepping back out of the stables. He pauses one last time in the doorway to shoot me a parting nod, the light in his gaze akin to bottled lightning.

It’s electric and impish and full of the same affection his touch held.

I’m unable to do anything but stand still and watch him go. Flushed and disoriented, my professional veneer has fallen by the wayside.

It’s official—not only is Rhett Dawson going to be a problem, he’s one I can’t ignore.

SIX

Rhett

I don’t chase women. Never have. Always thought I never would.