Heat of the Moment by Lori Handeland Page B

badly.”
    â€œYou believe that?”
    â€œNope,” she said.
    If what they’d been talking about hadn’t been sick, weird, freaky, horrible, and all of the above, her response might have made him laugh. As it was, he muttered, “Shit.”
    â€œYeah,” she agreed. “Good times. I need you to drop me at Emerson’s place.”
    The only Emerson Owen knew was Emerson Watley, a dairy farmer older than God, with plenty of hair in his nose and his ears but none at all on his head.
    â€œHot date?”
    Why had he asked that?
    â€œDate?” she repeated as if the word were a new one. “With Emerson? He’s ancient.”
    â€œHe could have a grandson, named after him and everything. Or maybe you just like ancient.”
    Owen really needed to shut up now.
    â€œI have no idea what you’re talking about. There’s a cow having trouble calving, so drive this truck like you own it and get me there yesterday.”
    â€œI don’t own it.”
    â€œPretend.”
    For a few seconds the only sounds were the tires on the road and Reggie’s staccato breaths. He could feel the heat coming off her skin. If he touched her hair, would sparks ignite? Maybe she’d just punch him. Wouldn’t be the first time.
    â€œIt’s none of your business,” she blurted.
    â€œThe cow?”
    â€œMe.” She sat stiff and straight, chin lifted, gaze forward. “Even if I had a date with Emerson, or any other man in this town or the next, you gave up the right to care about it a long time ago.”
    â€œNo,” he said.
    â€œNo?” Her shrill voice made Reggie inch so close to Owen he was practically driving.
    â€œI might have given up the right to date you, but I never gave up the right to care.”
    Watley’s driveway appeared, and Owen took the turn so fast, Reggie was thrown into her side. He yelped.
    â€œHey.” She set her hand on the dog’s shoulder at the moment Owen did the same.
    Their fingers met. They both jerked back; the dog snorted.
    â€œWhat were his injuries?” Becca asked.
    As if he understood, Reggie offered the paw on his injured leg. She smiled and ran her fingers down the appendage. Owen couldn’t believe the dog allowed it. Most MWDs had to be sedated for veterinary care. They weren’t the kind of animals who submitted to anyone other than their handler. But Becca was different.
    â€œJust here?” she asked, palm directly over the inflamed area. Reggie started to pant.
    â€œHe’s fine.” Owen negotiated the long, gravel lane then parked next to the brilliantly lit cow barn.
    She lifted her hand from Reggie and opened her door, then hesitated, clearly wanting to argue, to examine the dog further, but duty called. “Bring him by the clinic.”
    â€œI’ll do that.”
    Her eyes narrowed. Had she heard the lie? She should be getting better at it by now—thanks to him.
    â€œBecca?” Emerson stood in the circle of light just outside the open barn door. The man looked exactly the same as he had the day he’d chased Owen off his land with a rifle.
    Was this place caught in a time warp? Owen had yet to run into anyone who had changed as much as he had.
    Then again, he was the one who’d left. Which only made the time-warp theory more plausible.
    â€œThanks for the ride.” She got out of the truck.
    â€œDon’t you need your doctor bag or something?” Owen asked.
    â€œI’m hoping all I have to do is turn the calf, and it’ll come out easy-peasy.”
    Owen had been around enough cows to know that if the delivery was going to be easy-peasy, it would have happened already with no need for veterinary assistance. “You’re gonna be up all night, aren’t you?”
    â€œProbably.” Becca rubbed Reggie’s head one last time then slammed the door and went into the barn. The old guy cast a dubious glance in Owen’s