Once and for All. Jeannie Watt
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FOUGHT BOTH desperation and exasperation, with a healthy dose of anger thrown in. Why was she wasting her time here? She wasn’t going to win and the bull was going to die.
She put her own hands on the counter opposite Sam’s and leaned across the laminate surface until they were practically nose to nose. “I didn’t sue you,” she said adamantly. “I’m asking for help. Not my father.”
Sam wasn’t buying her argument. Hell, even she wasn’t buying it. She’d sat in court with her dad, which made her pretty much a party to the action, even if she hadn’t been the one to file suit.
“I am not going to be responsible for killing my father’s prize bull.”
“He killed his bull,” Sam said stubbornly. “Not you.”
“The animal is still alive, Sam. You could keep him that way.” She’d barely gotten the last word out of her mouth when the phone rang.
Sam glanced at the caller ID. “It’s my nephew. I have to take this.”
“Will you come to the ranch?” Jodie asked before he got the receiver to his ear, and was horrified to hear a tiny crack in her otherwise even voice. What next? Sobs?
Instead of answering her, Sam said into the receiver, “What is it, Ty?” He bent his head as he listened.
Jodie knew she’d hit her breaking point then. Her mission was futile. The bull was going to die. Her father would come home to a dead animal and missing a vet-trained cowboy. His blood pressure would skyrocket. The vacation would end up being wasted time….
Not on her watch.
“Thanks so much, Sam,” she said sarcastically, glad that her voice remained strong even as her eyes started to burn. “You probably would have killed the bull, anyway,” she muttered, too low for him to hear.
She turned and walked out the door before she did something both embarrassing and useless like bursting into tears. She felt them building, ready to seep out of the corners of her eyes, but they were tears of frustration and anger, not of self-pity. One spilled down her cheek, fueling her anger, as she yanked open the door to the Spitfire. She wiped it away with a jerky swipe of her gloved hand, muttered a single socially unacceptable word, then started the car.
She could see Sam through the window, still behind the counter where she’d left him, watching her drive away. It was all she could do not to flip him off. She made another swipe at her damp cheeks with the back of her hand.
She wasn’t done. Not by a long shot. But she had to do something fast, and dithering around with Sam wasn’t going to cure her sick cow. Bull. Whatever. She’d wasted a lot of time coming here, but at least she knew now that she wasn’t going to be dealing with Sam anymore. The guy was impossible. And hardhearted.
Her next step was to drive the fifty miles down to Otto and meet with Stan Stewart, the vet there. Lucas had already talked to him on the phone, but maybe she could finagle a deal with him in person. They’d danced before at a social function in Otto and he hadn’t seemed exactly immune to her. Perhaps one on one …
Jodie pulled into the gas station two blocks from Sam’s clinic and got out of the car, wishing she’d fueled up at the ranch. But she hadn’t thought of it in her hurry to get to town and try to rustle up some medical help. She slipped her credit card into the slot, punched the buttons, then almost kicked the machine as the computerized gizmo took its own sweet time validating her card. Finally, gasoline started flowing into her tank.
She leaned back against the side of her dark blue car, not caring for once if she scratched the paint, and pressed her gloved palm to her forehead, feeling the heat of her flushed skin through the thin leather. A truck pulled to a stop on the other side of the pump and Sam got out. Jodie’s mouth almost dropped open.
“Did I leave before you were done lambasting my family?” she snapped, even as a small part of her wondered if she might regret the words.
His mouth tightened ominously at her sarcastic tone and Jodie made an effort to control herself. “I don’t have your cell number, so I couldn’t call you,” he said.
“Why would you need to?”
Sam shifted his weight self-consciously. “Do you want me to phone Stan Stewart and see if he’d be willing to examine your bull?”
Jodie frowned suspiciously. This was a big about-face. “May I ask why you’d do that?” The numbers on the gas pump whirled by. Her baby was thirsty.
“Because I hate seeing animals die just because they have the misfortune of being owned by an asshole.” There was not an iota of apology in his voice.
Jodie met his eyes, which looked almost silver in the fluorescent lighting above the gas pump. There was more to it than that. She had the oddest feeling he felt sorry for her. But as much as she hated that, she was more than willing to go with it. Anything to keep that flipping bull alive—if it wasn’t already too late.
“I’d appreciate it if you did that.” The words came out stiffly.
The pump mechanism clicked off and Jodie removed the spout from her tank, slapping the nozzle back into place.
Sam pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and pressed a single button. A moment later he was talking. Jodie wrapped her arms around her middle, focusing on the oil stained concrete beneath her feet as she waited for a verdict and tried to keep from tapping her toe. Less than thirty seconds into the conversation, she knew the answer would not be in her favor.
Deep breaths. Deep, deep breaths.
Sam clicked the phone shut. “Stan can’t make it.”
Jodie didn’t say a word. What could she say?
Her mouth tightened as she studied the ground at her feet for another few seconds, trying to come up with an alternative plan to save the poor animal that was going to die because her father was an asshole.
“I’ll take a look at the bull. Unless you’re afraid I’ll kill him.”
Jodie’s eyes flashed up. “I’ll pay you well,” she replied automatically.
“Damned right you will.”
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