“… and then he set fire to the greenhouse after he blew Gerald Sawyer’s foot clean off his leg,” came the familiar voice of Ann Louise Sugardale, the silver-haired receptionist who’d been answering phones at the Rebel Veterinary Clinic for longer than Jenna had been alive.
Jenna walked into the main lobby as Miss Ann handed a Visa card back to a young woman who stood opposite the reception desk, a chocolate Lab puppy in one hand and her wallet in the other.
“Clean off?” The young woman’s eyes widened as she slid her card into her purse and shoved it into her bag.
Miss Ann shook her head. “Not ne’er a ligament nor a tendon in sight.” Her voice lowered just a notch as she added, “Just a bloody stump.”
“That’s terrible.”
“That’s a Tucker for you.” Her gaze met Jenna’s at that moment and she shrugged. “No offense, Doc. It’s just, well, you know Haywood and his bunch.”
Trash.
She didn’t say it out loud. Not this time. Not since Jenna had chewed her a new one the last time she’d made a rude comment against the Tuckers.
Still, her pursed lips and wary gaze said it all. She was thinking it. She was also thinking that she ought to find an excuse to grab her purse and get while the getting was good.
Miss Ann knew Jenna’s temper all too well.
“I really didn’t mean nothing,” the older woman started again, but Jenna held up a hand.
“It’s all right, Miss Ann. If Haywood did something so awful, I’m sure he’ll get what’s coming to him.”
The old woman’s look of surprise was worth choking down the anger simmering inside. Almost. But then Miss Ann launched into a tirade about how Haywood had desecrated all of Lorelei Sawyer’s garden statues, from her gnomes to a replica of the Mother Mary that sat atop a birdbath, and Jenna felt the anger roiling again.
But she wasn’t giving in. Not this time.
Not ever again.
She drew a deep, shaky breath, turned her attention to the young boy sitting in a nearby chair and the pet squirrel clutched in his lap. “Looks like you’re next, sweetie.”
“It’s Chipper.” The boy motioned to his squirrel. “She’s not eating like she usually does. My pa said she’s sick.” Worry furrowed his brow. “She’s going to be okay, isn’t she?”
“I’ll do everything I can to make sure of that.” She gave him a wink and stroked the animal’s soft fur. “Why don’t you come on back and let me have a look?”
She plucked the chart out of the tray on the counter and motioned to a nearby exam room. A smile on her face, she followed the boy inside, effectively shutting off Miss Ann and her description of the now decapitated Mother Mary.
It’s not about Miss Ann. It’s about Chipper. Poor, possibly sick Chipper who needs your full and undivided attention.
“Now,” she murmured as she closed the door and drew another deep breath. “Let’s see what’s going on.”
The squirrel wasn’t sick.
“She’s pregnant,” she told twelve-year-old Chase McIntyre a few minutes later.
The boy’s face went from relieved to excited at the speed of light. “She’s having babies?”
“It would seem so.”
“How many?”
“There’s no way to tell without an ultrasound, but I would make sure you have plenty of warm bedding because it could be quite a few. This breed is known for producing large litters.”
“Why won’t she eat?”
“She’s probably feeling a little picky right now. They do that at first, but when she gets hungry enough, she’ll start eating again. Make sure you give her plenty of food. And these supplements might help.” She retrieved a small bottle from a nearby shelf. “Crush the pill into her food bowl.”
“So that’s it?”
“That’s it.”
He gave her a grin, revealing a mouthful of braces. “Thanks Dr. Tucker.”
“Thank you for bringing her in.” She finished making notes in the chart and reached for the door. “Let’s get you checked out.”
Luckily, Miss Ann had lost her captive audience. Instead, she looked ready to lose her mind thanks to a crate full of chickens parked on top of the counter. “I can’t just put them all in one chart. If you want the animals seen, they each count as a patient,” she was trying to explain to an ancient-looking man in overalls.
“But it’s one cage,” Shorty Tucker pointed out. Along with Clara Bell Sawyer, Shorty was one of the oldest residents of Rebel, Texas, and Jenna’s cousin three or four times removed. Or maybe he was a great-great-uncle.
She wasn’t sure, she just knew they shared a bloodline somewhere along the way.
Unlike Clara Bell, Shorty still lived independently in a small house at the edge of town. He wore a pair of worn overalls as run-down as his house, a red-and-white VFW POST #202 cap, and an expression that said he wasn’t backing down.
“Everybody knows chickens come in bunches,” Shorty went on. “Ain’t nobody got just one chicken on account of the raccoons pick ’em off one by one. A fella’s got to get himself several chickens. It ain’t about the chickens. It’s about the cage. One cage. So it’s one ticket.”
“Says you,” Miss Ann huffed. “Ten chickens, ten tickets.”
“In one cage,” Shorty insisted. “Hell’s bells, woman, cain’t you count?”
“Listen here, Shorty Tucker, I can count just fine. You’re the one who can’t seem to understand…” Ann went off into a carefully worded explanation about grade school and the fact that Shorty was older than Jesus, which explained why he didn’t rightly remember his math lessons, which earned her an equally scathing response from the old man who pointed out that Jesus had passed her over when he’d been handing out manners and good looks.
Ann’s gasp was so loud that Jenna actually thought about intervening, but then she smiled, plucked the next folder from the desk, and turned to the two Mini Plush Lop rabbits sitting nearby with their owner.
While she wasn’t going to give Ann a piece of her mind, she wasn’t going to deny Shorty the right to his.
“Hello Brad and Angelina,” she murmured as she eyed the fluffy white rabbits before turning to the young woman holding their leashes. “Are we doing shots today?”
The woman nodded. “And I was hoping you could give Brad a little extra something. I want a litter of baby rabbits. I’m giving them to my nieces and nephews for Easter and time’s running out. While the real Brad did just fine in that department, this one doesn’t seem all that interested.”
“We don’t really do fertility treatments here. We like to let nature take its course.”
“But I’ve had them in the same cage for six months and nothing. I don’t think he’s interested.”
“I don’t think he’s a he,” Jenna said as she picked up the first rabbit and took a look. “In fact, I’m positive. This is a female.”
The woman’s expression fell. What am I supposed to do with them now?”
“Take them home and love them?” Jenna offered.
The woman gave her a scathing look. “I don’t love them. They were my Easter project. My sister-in-law gave out baby chicks last year and it’s all my nieces and nephews have talked about since. I can’t show up with some marshmallow Peeps now and look like the lame aunt again.” She seemed to think. “Then again, I could get them these two-foot chocolate bunnies I saw online. Chocolate trumps a live animal, don’t you think?”
“But what about Brad and Angelina, here?”
Claire gave her a hopeful expression along with the two leashes. “Surely you could hook them up with a good home? You’re a vet, after all.”
* * *
“I didn’t mean to shoot off his toe. The old bastard got in my way, is all,” Haywood Tucker said for the umpteenth time as Hunter led him into a cell and steered him to a nearby bench.
“You’re lucky you didn’t kill him.”
“He’s the lucky one.” Haywood adjusted the ball cap on his bald head. “Lucky he didn’t take a piece of concrete to the gut. Though I can’t say as I would regret it if he had. He’s been poaching my figs for six years now. It’s about time he got what’s coming to him.”
“That tree isn’t yours or his. The judge hasn’t decided yet.”
“He will and when he does I’ll be due an apology for damned sure.”
“The only thing that’s coming to you is breakfast. You’re in for the night.”
“But Sheriff—”
“And all day if you can’t post bail. Let Bobby know when you’re ready to make your call.” He locked the cell door, turned on his heel, and headed down the hall to his office. An oatmeal bar sat on a paper plate on his desk with a note from Marge that read Eat already.
He took a few bites and finished up the paperwork he’d left earlier that day before finally calling it a night.
The drive home took longer than it should have if he’d been headed to the small house that sat at the edge of town. Instead, he found himself feeling anxious. Restless. So Hunter hit the road leading out of town and opened up the gas a little. Air rushed through the windows, temporarily distracting him from the heat coiling inside him.
Thanks to the memory of Jenna’s body so soft against his.
Christ, he was pathetic.
He’d been so busy with work that he hadn’t had the time to drive to Austin and blow off a little steam. Something he couldn’t do right here in town. He was the sheriff, after all. That meant no hooking up with just anyone. Folks looked to him to be an example. That meant no one-night stands. No, if he was going to hook up here in town it had to be with a woman who meant something to him. And he’d yet to find one.
Not that he’d been looking.
Hell, no. He had enough on his shoulders without adding the responsibility of a relationship to the mix.
No, he couldn’t hook up with anyone in town. That meant driving somewhere else and he just hadn’t had the time.
Or the energy.
He was full of it tonight. Enough to push him well past the county line. But instead of stopping off at Diamonds & Denim, he left the neon lights in his rearview and turned onto the road leading out to the rodeo arena.
The motion was instinctive. Something he’d done so many times in the past that he never really gave it much thought.
Then.
But things were different now. He didn’t belong out here anymore than he belonged on the back of a bucking bronc.
He wasn’t that same man.
He couldn’t be.
No matter how familiar the feelings pushing and pulling inside of him.
Fuck.
He hit the brakes and watched the spray of gravel as he swung the SUV around and headed back toward Rebel. He thought of stopping off to see his Mimi, but he knew it was well past her bedtime. Instead, he headed for the small two-bedroom Colonial just off Main Street.
Pulling into the driveway, he killed the engine and eyed the small front porch, the single bulb burning next to the door. He thought about going inside, climbing into bed and getting some much needed shut-eye, but he couldn’t seem to move.
Instead, he leaned back and tipped his hat down over his eyes. And then he let his thoughts wander for just a few moments.
What it would be like to be just a man again.
One who could touch Jenna Tucker if and when he damn well pleased.