Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 123171 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 616(@200wpm)___ 493(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123171 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 616(@200wpm)___ 493(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
Without realizing what I'm doing, I bend when hand up, and am about to lace my fingers with his when Crystal suddenly appears in the barn doorway.
“Sorry I took so long,” she starts, and Jacob and I jerk apart. I didn't even hear the car pulling into the driveway. We didn't do anything questionable, yet I still feel like I was caught in the act, which is because I think I wanted Jacob to do something questionable to me.
Crystal's eyes go for me to Jacob and back again. She still has a smile on her face, and she's carrying a black case on her shoulder that looks heavy. Whether or not she thought she saw something, I doubt she'd say anything. Jacob is her boss after all.
Careful to keep my distance from Jacob, I bring Freya out into the crossties, keeping her distracted with treats, while Jacob and Crystal do their exam. Not long later, Jacob confirms that my mare is, in fact, pregnant.
My mind is swimming with different thoughts, with the biggest one being how I'm going to get out of this without drowning in vet bills. I need to get back to Indianapolis and get my house ready to sell. The market has been favorable for sellers, and if I'm lucky, I can get the full asking price in just a few months.
I put Freya back in her stall and walk with Crystal and Jacob out to their cars.
“I meant what I said,” Jacob turns to me. “This is a big undertaking and if it gets to be too much let me know. I will help.”
My nerves dissipate and the anger starts to take over again. In the back of my mind, I know holding onto this anger is a defense mechanism, and I'm refusing to see that he has a valid point. But I just can't fucking stand it when a man tells me I'm not capable of doing something.
“We'll be just fine,” I press.
“Okay,” Jacob says, obviously not believing me. “I'll check it in a few days And see if you still feel the same.” I take it as his way of saying it'll only take a few days before I'm ready to throw in the towel.
I narrow my eyes and force a smile and then watch him continue walking to his truck. I’m not going to allow myself to—dammit. I cast my eyes down. His butt does not look good in those jeans. I need to get a hold of myself, though who am I kidding? Jacob is a good-looking man. Which is exactly why I’m going to march myself back inside, grab my computer and find a different vet.
“Can you believe that guy?” I ask when I get back inside, shutting the door with my foot. Riley is looking out the window, probably hoping to see that stray dog who disappeared as mysteriously as he showed up. I should have asked Jacob if he remembered a random dog coming onto the property. Really, it’s probably not a stray. The dog was friendly, looked well fed, and was somewhat clean. If that is the case, then I need to find the owners. While the dog didn’t seem to mind the horses, that doesn’t mean the horses won’t mind a dog. One kick can end the dog’s life.
Both my parents and my brother look at me in question. Right, a good half hour pass since I was last in the house.
“Is everything okay?” Mom asks. “You were out there for quite a while.”
I grab the to-go container of pasta from the fridge and sit down at the kitchen table. Dad and Elijah are sitting there going over sketches of how they can rebuild the front porch.
“Yeah, it’s all good, but the vet! Ugh, right?”
“What do you mean?” Dad asks.
“He clearly doesn’t think I’m fit to run the farm. I am!” I angrily plop a scoopful of pasta on a plate with such force it splatters on my dress.
“It is a lot of work,” Mom starts, choosing each word carefully. “I think that was all he was getting at, honey. You have a job and a daughter. Both of which require time away from the horses. And that’s not to mention the expense.” Her eyes meet my father’s and he makes a point to suddenly become very interested with a chip on the side of the wooden table. “Have you been in the basement? There’s mold.”
I make a face, knowing how dangerous that can be. I’m not worried about myself, but about Everly. Has she been exposed to black mold? Should we camp out in the barn tonight until I can get the situation assessed?
“I haven’t been down there,” I tell her. “How bad is it?”
“The house won’t be condemned,” Dad says, joining the conversation now that Mom broke the bad news. “The basement needs to be cleared out so a company can come in to get it dry and clean. The best idea would be getting a dumpster and tossing most of what’s being stored.”