by Dora Hiers
He gritted his teeth and felt a huge lump crawl down his throat. He’d been there. Done that. And it hadn’t turned out so well.
She stood and glanced at him, those dark eyebrows arched as she waited for him to follow.
He hesitated, staring into her eyes, searching, more than a little excited to see those amber flints distinctly void of dollar signs.
She cleared her throat and dipped her head, waiting for him to pass through the gate.
Which he did. Eagerly. But at least he wasn’t waving his fluffy tail high in the air or grinning like Goliath.
A soft breeze drifted by, bringing with it the typical animal smells like dung and hay, but he also caught a whiff of her scent. Something spicy and floral. He liked it.
“I usually drive something else, too, but I left it at work.” A smile slid across his lips. Several something else’s actually.
“Oh?” She looked surprised and a little suspicious but appeared to shake it off. She hummed, the sound coming from her throat quiet and pleasant.
She gave no indication that she recognized him. Did she not know who he was? Exhilaration and anticipation took turns causing a ruckus in his gut and finally settled there.
Cowgirl stopped walking, and he sidestepped quickly to keep from running into her with his load. He backed up, adjusting the supplies in his arms. Goliath lifted his snout in the air and wandered away again. Cowgirl didn’t issue any warnings, so he assumed llamas played nicely with dogs.
“Do you mind if I actually work on the delivery?” She pulled out a cloth from the middle of the stack.
“Uh—” Delivery? That earlier feeling of anticipation soured. He frowned. What was she talking about?
She flicked a towel on the ground and slid some gloves over her slender fingers. “Yeah. Snickers is fairly new here, and I don’t want to frighten her any more than she already is. Besides, this is my first llama delivery.”
A llama delivery?
He turned his head to the side and coughed.
His, too. For the first time in years, fear pulsed through his veins.
Yeah, he might have wanted to get close to the creatures, but crouching behind a llama’s backside, waiting to grab a baby llama wasn’t really what he had in mind. His head wobbled back and forth. What was he doing here?
She set a digital thermometer, some type of lubricant on the towel— and was that dental floss? —and speared him with a hopeful glance over her shoulder, her wide green eyes sparkling with excitement. “If it reassures you, I have a bachelor’s degree in Vet Technology. Not that it qualifies me to deliver a cria, but, hey, you’re here to step in if anything goes wrong.”
A cria? Was that what they called baby llamas? He was in way over his head here.
Balancing the stack of towels with one arm, he massaged his forehead.
So he could offer moral support or lend a hand if she needed one, but that was the extent of his ability. What should he do?
Lord, I could definitely use a little help here. I deliver wins, interviews, and the occasional checks to non-profits, but llamas? They are way out of my realm of expertise.
The tall-as-he-was animal moaned. Rather loudly.
Mason jumped and nearly hurled the remaining towels into the field. His gaze locked on his car, and he mentally calculated how many steps it would take to reach. Fifteen, if they were gi—
“Aw, sweet girl, it’ll be all right. This kind man and I are here to help you. Soon your little cria will be here, and you’ll forget all about the pain.” Her tone was sweet and soft, almost melodic. The animal’s head angled toward the voice. Ultra-long lashes flickered, and the llama’s posture relaxed, as if the animal actually understood Cowgirl.
Mason had never seen anything like this before. He’d award her the grant money just for the experience of witnessing a llama whisperer.
Cowgirl flashed a grin over a shoulder. “That’s what they say about human births anyway. Guess it probably stands true for animals, huh?”
“What would you like me to do?” What was he saying? He should be whistling for Goliath, high tailing it back to his car and speeding down the road, heading back toward Charlotte. This was uncharted territory, out of Mason’s comfort zone. Way out.
Cowgirl smiled back at him from her vantage point behind Snickers. “You can stack the rest of that stuff on the towel and keep the curious onlookers away.”
He dumped the stack where she instructed and straightened. A tall fuzzy creature with the longest lashes and biggest eyes he’d ever seen closed in on him, invading his personal space.
Whoa! He staggered back. Then he realized that a fence separated them.
“Excuse me, buddy, but the lady says you’ll need to move it on down the road.” Exactly what he should be doing, but instead, his legs stayed rooted to the dewy grass, refusing to turn around and take him back to the car.
Mason gave the big fella, assuming it was a male, a gentle nudge with his arm.
The giant didn’t budge.
“Hey, buddy. Your lady friend will be all right. We’ll call you when the little one arrives.” The animal’s ears pressed flat, and he let out a piercing, shrill sound.
Mason squinted, getting the distinct impression the llama wasn’t happy with him.
“That’s Jumbo.” Cowgirl glanced over her shoulder, twin vertical lines furrowing between her eyebrows. But when the pregnant llama reclaimed her attention, she resumed videoing the scene with her phone.
“Nice to meet you, Jumbo.”
Jumbo didn’t look like he agreed.
“Be careful. He—”
Something awful spewed from the llama’s mouth and slammed Mason in the face.
“—spits.”
The llama hissed. Cud blasted him again, this time on the front of his cotton shirt.
“Ohh.” Did that groan come from him or the monster?
Keeping his gaze locked on the creature for another possible attack, he snatched a fresh towel and swiped his face. It took three rags before his face felt halfway back to normal.
“What does it take to get rid of this horrible odor?” He coughed, fighting the tremendous urge to retch. That, and hide his humiliation in the safety of his car.
Laughter tinkled nearby. He mopped another clean towel across his face and glanced over at Cowgirl, whose phone was aimed at him now.
“Please tell me you’re not taping this,” he growled. He could hear the jesting from his pit crew already. Being spit on by a llama. He shook his head. They would never let him live it down.
“I couldn’t resist, but don’t worry. I won’t post it on the Sanctuary’s website. This one’s strictly for my enjoyment.”
For her enjoyment? Seriously? Watching him be humiliated by a llama? The poor girl needed to get out more.
He scrubbed his shirt, but the rubbing motion only smeared the mess and did nothing to mask the hideous odor.
“Who knew there was such a thing as llama spittle?” he muttered, shaking his head.
He tossed the dirty rag on the grass and caught Cowgirl staring at him, the gentle breeze fluttering long strands of dark hair across her creamy cheeks, hiding those beautiful eyes.
She flicked the locks away then stuffed a free hand into the pocket of her jeans. The tip of her boot poked at the dirt, her focus now on studying the ground. “Thank you for being here when I needed somebody.”
From the soft tone of her voice, Mason knew that meant a great deal to her. He puffed out his chest. He might not know anything about a llama’s labor and delivery process, but he could be the man Cowgirl needed.
Yeah. He could do this even if Jumbo decided to spit again.
Mason glared at the tall, fuzzy creature.
He’d just make sure he moved as fast, no, faster, than his racecar.
****
The cria finally tumbled onto the grass.
Remi ceased videoing and got to work, taking the cria’s temperature and attending to the umbilical cord. Satisfied
that all was well, she rubbed the taut muscles on the back of her neck and smiled as Mama ministered to her baby. She shuddered out a relieved sigh, the tension sliding off her shoulders.
It looked like the pair would be fine. The vet? Now he was a different story.
“Cool, huh?” She finally allowed herself a long glance at the man who’d been her shadow for the last hour. He’d raked his fingers through his hair so much during the delivery that thick dark strands spiked up. Right now, he rubbed the heavy stubble that covered his jaws.
She’d never met a vet quite like him. He hadn’t even volunteered to retrieve his medical bag during the delivery. He’d stood close by, patiently watching the status of Mama and baby, occasionally murmuring soft words of encouragement in that deep rumble of a voice, igniting delicious shivers that rippled from the roots of her hair to her boot-covered toes.
“Yeah.” His head wagged back and forth. Awe glazed his expression. Hers probably sported the same look, minus the green around the edges that showed on his. He must’ve had a long night on call to look so rough.
Even rough, the man was mighty good to look at. Not that she was looking.
“Do you ever get tired of it?” she asked, tipping her hat to get a better look at him. Okay. Maybe she was looking. Just a little. But she couldn’t resist the alluring force that pulled her in closer, hoping to catch a better glance of the man who’d stepped in to help.
Usually, only her brother filled that role.
“Of what? Being blasted with llama crud?” Humor sparkled from the depths of his cocoa-colored eyes as he stroked the beautiful golden retriever’s head.
“No.” She chuckled. “I imagine that would get old fast. I meant helping with deliveries. Watching animals give birth.”
“Who could ever tire of witnessing the miracle of birth? It’s as if life blossoms right in front of you.” He cleared his throat and reached for another clean towel.
He was a mess. She glanced down and cringed. She wasn’t in any better shape, but at least she wasn’t covered with the remains of Jumbo’s digestive track. The least she could do was offer him a chance to clean up, right?
“I could use a cup of coffee and a break. Would you like to join me? I might even let you use my bathroom to wash up.”
He smiled, and her heart did flip-flops. Stop it right now, Remi Lambright. Just because he rescued you today doesn’t mean he’ll be around the next time. And it certainly doesn’t give you license to get all soft inside.
Her response to his smile didn’t bode well for her weak heart muscle, but he had llama goo all over his shirt, and he stunk something fierce. It wouldn’t be right not to offer the poor guy a place to clean up, and she might as well make him a cup of coffee for his trouble.
“That sounds great.” He scooped the soiled items together and hoisted the load in one arm, wrinkling his nose. “Lead the way.”
Remi escorted him out of the pasture, doing her best to ignore the butterflies dancing around in her tummy at the nearness of the vet as his rubber soles shuffled against the grass. Prancing beside him, the dog’s plumy tail sliced through the autumn air.
She stopped at the entrance to the barn and gestured. “Just drop those in a pile there. I’ll take care of everything later.”
“Where do they need to end up? I don’t mind helping.”
“You’ve already been a tremendous help.” He’d actually stayed for the entire labor and delivery, and his sweet words of encouragement during the labor had shattered her deep-rooted values about men.
Was he a man she could count on? Remi didn’t know, but he’d shown up just when she needed him today and seemed to accept the crazy antics of her animals with good humor.
While he dumped the load where she’d pointed out, she stole another glance at him.
Kindness glimmered from his rugged, just-woke-up-and-no-time-to-shave face, and his powerful shoulders suggested he was a man who could carry any burden, no matter how heavy.
“Welcome to Forever Family Animal Sanctuary. Forgive me for not offering my name earlier. I’m Remi Lambright.”
He flashed a soft look, one that spoke volumes. Past hurt? Loneliness?
Her heart stuttered.
“I’m Mason.” He reached down to pat the dog’s head again. “And this is Goliath.”
She bent to scratch the canine’s ears. When he moaned and rolled over onto his back, she gave him a belly rub, chuckling when his leg twitched spasmodically in the air. “Goliath. What a big, tough name for such a softie like you.”
She rose and extended her hand. “Nice to meet you, Mason.”
His hand was rough, strong. Used to a hard day’s work.
She liked that. Startled, she tugged her hand away, rubbing the spot where his touch still tingled.
His gaze dipped to her hands.
Forcing herself to stop fiddling, she sauntered over to the fence and looped her forearms over the gate. Mason and his canine companion followed.
The entire female population of llamas had ambled over to welcome the caramel-colored baby and congratulate the new mama.
“You delivered the little one, so you should have the honor of naming her.” Her phone vibrated. Since the sanctuary line was forwarded to this one while she worked, she needed to take the call. “Excuse me, please.”
Turning away from Mason, she connected the call. “Forever Family Animal Sanctuary. This is Remi.”
“Hi Remi. This is Nan Greenway with Athletes in the News. How are you today?”
The breath whooshed from her chest. It had been twenty years. Would the reporters never leave her and her family alone? She stalked a few yards away from Mason, forcing even breaths, in and out. “I’m fine. Thank you.”
Soft steps padded the ground behind her then a moist nuzzle pressed against her fisted hand. Loosening the clenched grip, her fingertips found Goliath’s head, seeking comfort in the soft fur.
“I’m glad to hear that. Listen, our magazine’s planning a special golfer’s anniversary edition next month, and I’m writing a special feature on your father, highlighting his career. I’d love to include some personal tidbits, like some of the things you remember about him as a father. Is there any chance we can meet for an interview?”
Some personal tidbits? What she remembered about him as a father?
Oh yeah. She had plenty of memories, but none she was willing to share with the world.
“No.” Good. Her voice sounded firm, unlike the gelatin her legs had become.
“A personal segment about what a great father he was would go a long way to—”
“I’m sorry, but no. Thank you for asking, but if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.” Remi disconnected and slid the phone back into her pocket. She closed her eyes and exhaled, hoping to expel the horrific memories and emotions the call invoked.
Halloween Day. Twenty years ago. Her dad had picked up Remi and her brothers to take them trick or treating.
“Are you all right?” A gentle touch landed on her arm.
Heaving a deep sigh, she swiped a sleeve across her cheeks and forced her lashes up.
Mason’s concerned face was so much clearer, so much more welcome than the image forever implanted in her head. She blinked, banishing the memory to oblivion, the only way she had learned to cope over the years.
“Yeah. Sorry I zoned out.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a couple miniature candies. “Want one?”
“Sure. Thanks.” He unwrapped the paper and popped the whole thing in his mouth.
She did the same with her favorite treat, savoring the fused taste of chocolate and peanut butter on her tongue, and moved back to the fence rail, resuming her stance. In seconds, the vet joined her.
The cool October breeze lifted the hair off her neck and reminded her that Mason still needed to change his shirt. What would he smell like if not the llama crud? She cleared her throat, squashing that train of thought. “So what did you decide?”
“Decide?”
A dark brow hiked.
Remi flicked her head toward the cria. “Her name.”
“You sure you want me to name her? My only contribution today was moral support.” He rammed a hand through his thick hair. A cowlick popped up in front.
Fighting the urge to smooth it down, she pulled out more candy and shared. “Yep. You name her.” She angled her body sideways and propped her boot against the rail, waiting for his response.
He bit into the candy and chewed, quietly staring at the cria and the leftover piece of chocolate before popping it in his mouth. “How about Reesie?”
She smiled. “That’s perfect! Her coloring matches the inside of my favorite candy. Reesie, she is.”
That settled, Remi turned and took off for the house. Halfway there, she hesitated and glanced over a shoulder, pointing at the barn. “You might want to ditch that shirt over there. You wouldn’t want to corrupt that new car smell.”
“Not a bad idea.” His chuckle warmed her insides.
He headed toward the barn, whipping the shirt over his head and tossing it on top of the pile of soiled linens, leaving his chest bare, exposed.
“I’ll get one of my brother’s shirts for you and get the coffee going. You can meet me inside the house.” She jerked around and resumed walking before another emotion, one she had no practice or experience with, kindled a fire she didn’t want to burn.
2
Mason lathered the washcloth and scrubbed his face, feeling as invigorated as if he’d just won a race.
He reached for the clean shirt Remi had left in the bathroom and tugged it over his head. Her brother must be tall and slender. A bit snug and longer than he usually wore his shirts but at least it would work until he got home. Better than that smelly thing he discarded in the barn anyway.
He still couldn’t believe that Cowgirl hadn’t recognized his face or connected his name. How long would that last? He’d never told her that he was the vet, but he hadn’t corrected her, either. He should set her straight on who he was, but…why? It felt nice, freeing, actually, not to be bothered with the price of fame. To be…himself.
When he opened the bathroom door, the strong smell of coffee removed any lingering trace of llama. He followed the caffeine trail, which wasn’t long or far, because the converted stable didn’t boast many rooms. From what he could tell, it consisted of an open great room slash kitchen, a bathroom, and what had to be a very small bedroom.
