I leaned down and rubbed Captain on the head, something all dogs seemed to love, and his back leg twitched. Good. He still had muscle-nerve reflex.
“I know I can. You’re just a great doc, just like your father was.”
I was appreciative that so many of Dad’s clients had returned to me once I had graduated from the University of Florida. Sure, it was nice having a ready-made business and a last name people trusted. But for folks in this part, I was a convenience. No one wanted to haul an old dirty dog in the back of their car. And farm animals were out of the question, especially when we were thirty minutes from the next town. Most large-animal vets only came to this area once a month, which was one day too many for my dad.
“Thanks. I do try. You have a good night, Mr. Howard. And remember to call if you need to.” With that, I picked up my large black medical bag and headed out to my truck. It had been a long, hot day, and what I wanted more than anything was a nice, cold beer. Drinking alone was depressing, so I shot a text over to Paris, asking if she wanted to meet me at the Elbow Room. She didn’t answer right away, so I tossed my phone onto the passenger seat and headed in that direction.
Gripping the steering wheel of my old Ford pickup, I was relaxed, even though the cab bounced as it hit the tiniest potholes. Turning into the parking lot of the bar my brother Marcus owned, I hunted for a parking spot. I was happy to see the place packed. He’d steadily increased business since he bought it a few years ago. Pulling the heavy wood door, I wrinkled my nose. He had made a lot of changes, but had he been able to get rid of the stale cigarette smoke that seemed embedded into every inch of the place, it would have been even better.
Glancing at my phone one more time, I was shocked that Paris still hadn’t replied. It was so unlike her, but then again, there was a baby in the house, so what did I really expect?
I headed for a seat at the bar, nodding to a few people I knew, and took the last open stool, the one tucked right against the wall.
“You look exhausted,” my brother said, tapping his knuckles on the bar.
“Some days, I wonder why I decided to work with large animals.” He set a pint of Yuengling in front of me without my having to order it, and I took a sip before continuing. “It’s so damn hot outside. It would be much cushier in a clinic.”
“True, but you’d be miserable, and you know it. How many times did Mom try to convince Dad to slow down or just open up a clinic?” Marcus rested his arms on the bar and made himself comfortable.
“I know . . . I just need to get used to the heat. Been in the classroom way too long.”
“Too damn long.” Marcus slapped the counter, making several people turn and stare at us. “Don’t know how you did it. I sure as hell couldn’t.”
“I just knew that this was what I always wanted to do. I didn’t consider anything else. There has been a Doctor Kinkaide taking care of people's animals in these parts since . . . well, the eighteen hundreds, with Dad’s great-grandfather. It felt right to me.” I took another swig from my bottle.
“Better you than me.” Marcus laughed. “I know that we’re only three years apart, but usually that kind of carry-on-family-tradition shit is put on the oldest son. I just wasn’t cut out for school. I probably disappointed Dad.”
“Stop. Where the fuck is that coming from? That is one thing neither of us was. You know better than that. Sure, Mom and Dad were in their fifties by the time they had me—”
Marcus interrupted. “Can you fucking imagine that?”
“No. I don’t want to think about fifty-year-olds having sex, let alone fifty-year-olds who are our parents.”
“Nothing like getting a student discount and a senior citizen discount at the same restaurant, huh?”
I picked up my beer and took another sip.
“Be right back. Need to actually act like the owner and check on the other patrons.” Marcus stepped away.
Turning on the stool, I took in the crowd and smiled when I spotted Holland. She was talking to a few of her friends and rocking on the back two legs of her chair. I groaned, worrying that someone was going to come along and bump her and she’d tumble backward. But it seemed I didn’t have to worry because she was leaning back to look to her left. I watched the youngest of the three Kelly sisters focus on her arch-nemesis and next-door neighbor. Unfortunately, their tables were fairly close together but not side by side, so everything they said still had to be shouted. Holland was . . . well, she had always been the hellion of the three. Just as I was getting up to go ask her if she knew where Paris was, Holland stood so swiftly, the chair she’d been sitting in fell over.
“You are a sleezeball dirtbag dickhead of the worst degree. I have no clue why you moved here.” Holland jabbed her index finger at the tall, extremely large man still sitting. “But you don’t belong here. You might as well go back to that overpriced city you came from, Dick Brooks—”
“My name is Reid.”
He was calm, which only aggravated Holland that much more. The two of them had been at each other’s throats since he moved across the street from them. Most of the time, it was funny to watch because she would get irrationally angry and he would stay infuriatingly calm. One of these days, he was going to push her too far and she was going to burn his house to the ground.
She was one person whose bad side I wouldn’t want to be on.
“Whatever, like I care.” She snarled the words at him. “Your name will always be Dick to me.”
Not wanting to be rude but deciding that this was no time for niceties, I made my way to her table and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Holland—”
“Get away from me, Asher. I’m pissed and don’t want to say something to you that I will regret later. You are too nice. But this asshole”—Holland stepped around several people so she was close enough to poke Reid in the chest—“has insulted me for the last time.”
I glanced back at the table where Holland had just been sitting. “How much have you had to drink?”
“Not a lot.”
Reid raised one brow to challenge Holland’s statement.
“Okay, fine. More than I had planned on, but still. It doesn’t change the fact that this asshole insulted me.”
“How did I insult you?” Reid smirked, not hiding his smile.
“You insulted the way I ride.”
“I told you to watch your left leg because you tend to bring it in front of your body when you ride. I thought you’d like to know. We can’t see ourselves riding, so we need other people to tell us what we can improve on. Sorry, next time, I’ll just let you look like an idiot, you ungrateful brat.”
“Brat? And what? You’re all of a sudden the fuckin’ horse-riding know-it-all?”
“Clearly, I know more than you since I know to keep my mouth shut and pay attention when someone is giving me helpful information.”
“Helpful? That wasn’t—”
“Okay. Enough.” I held up my hands. "Stop it, Holland. Where are your keys?”
“In my pocket.”
“Did you bring a purse?”
“Nooo.”
My head felt like it was going to explode. “Come on. I’m taking you home.” I grabbed her arm and glanced over to my brother, who was smirking. I wanted to punch him. Holland was like a little sister to us, so he could have helped me at any time.
I tossed him an ungrateful wave and then pulled my phone from my pocket. It was barely seven, and Paris still hadn’t texted me back. At least she wasn’t on her way here as I was walking out the door.
Holland was stewing in the passenger's seat; thankfully the Kelly ranch was just a few miles down State Road 46. The sign read Kelly Ranch and Iron Horse Stables, the only marker for their street, and as soon as I saw it, I flipped on my blinker. At one time that had been our school bus stop, and Paris and I had leaned against the beams while we waited.
I parked next to Paris’s Jeep, which was parked up close to the house, and jumped out. I took two steps toward the front
door and stopped.
I’d grown up in the woods, hell, I’d grown up right next to here, but the sound that stopped me wasn’t a normal sound.
“Hehhhh.” There it was again.
“Holland, stop.”
“What?” She was still pissed.
“Hawp.”
“Did someone say help?” Holland asked.
Turning around, I opened the door to my truck and reached under my seat. I slid out my lock box, where I kept my Dan Wesson six-inch .357—we lived in the country, after all. I didn’t have much call to use it, but I was glad I had it.
“Help.” Oh hell yes, that was definitely help.
Holland suddenly sounded less hostile as she moved to where I was standing on the driver’s side.
“Stay here and call Braden. I’m going to go make sure Paris is okay.”
“I’m going with you. Braden and London took Tera over to his parents'. They won’t be home until late.”
At the realization that Paris was here alone, all rationale escaped me. I headed to the house but stopped when I heard the plea again. It was coming from the side of the house. So, I made sure Holland was behind me, and together, we made our way slowly around to the side of the house.
“Paris, is that you?” I called out.
“Yaaaa.”
I had no idea what was making that noise, but I hurried toward it anyway. Then I saw her. She was standing in the open doorway of the meat locker. She wasn’t moving, but her glassy eyes kept glancing from me to something in front of her.
Lying across the walkway about three feet in front of her was the largest rattlesnake I’d ever seen.
No, I take that back, not just any rattlesnake, it was a motherfucking diamondback rattlesnake.
“Fuck.” Already knowing I didn’t have the right ammunition with me, I opened the chamber on my revolver and looked at the bullets just to be sure. I glanced over my shoulder to see Holland frozen a few feet behind me.
“Holland, I need you to do me a favor and go back to my truck get the snake-shot out of the glove box.”
The rattler’s tail lifted and shook at the ground vibrations from Holland’s running feet.
“Kitten, listen to me. I know that you’re freezing . . .” God, I felt so bad, she was shivering. “But I’m going to need you to move back into the freezer and away from the open door, okay?” I dumped the bullets, ready to fill once Holland returned.
Paris nodded.
“I’m going to get you out of there, don’t worry. You know I won’t leave you, right?”
Paris nodded again.
The snake coiled and lifted its head, but it lulled back and forth as it rattled its tail.
I turned at the sound of Holland’s footsteps and grabbed the box. With shaking hands, I filled each of the six chambers and then turned back to the snake, which was still posed to strike.
“Is the snake drunk?” Holland whispered. “Or is it rabid?”
“Shhh.” I waved Holland off. “Okay, sweetheart, move back.” I closed the cylinder and took a few steps closer to the snake while Paris slid back a few steps.
I knew the snake was neither drunk nor rabid; it had been caught off guard by the cold. He was alarmed by Paris and became defensive, which caused him to coil, but he’d been there so long, an early state of brumation had set in.
Bringing the gun up in front of me, I closed my less-dominant eye, and then focused. I fired, and the snake struck out, so I fired again and again and again until the thing stopped moving. Snake-shot was a capsule full of tiny pellets that sprayed in an arc to ensure a clean shot just in case the snake started to move, curl up, or flatten its body. Normally, I was all for letting animals go, but sometimes, you have to do what you have to do.
Once I was positive it wasn’t going to somehow start moving again, I turned to search for a branch, broom, anything I could poke the damn snake with to make sure it was dead before getting too close.
“Here.” Holland was bent over, huffing, trying to catch her breath as she held out a large hoe.
“Thanks.” I took it from her and prodded the snake, which didn’t move. “It’s dead.” I uncoiled the reptile, which was much larger than any I’d seen before. Once it was spread out, I counted the buttons. There were thirteen. This was a serious-sized snake.
But it was dead, so I shifted it off the walkway and turned to Paris, who still hadn’t come out.
She was sitting on the cold concrete floor, curled into a tight ball. Racked with worry for this woman who I’d been in love with my whole life, I gazed into her chocolate eyes. “Oh, Kitten.” Then I lowered my mouth to hers, and in that moment, she acquiesced, giving in to this undeniable bond we had. It wasn’t deep or wild. It was soft and reassuring. It was something we both needed—she needed to know she’d been rescued, and I needed to know she was safe. “Come on. Put your arms around me.” I lifted her and carried her out of their meat freezer. Holland locked up behind me then followed me into their house. “Will you put some coffee on for your sister?” I asked before heading down the hall that led to Paris’s bedroom and straight to her bathroom, where I set her onto the counter. Removing her shoes and socks, I turned on the faucet and let the water turn warm before moving to the tub and filling it with hot water as well. I wanted to fill the small room with steam and help warm her without shocking her system.
“Yo-you . . . you sho-showed up.” Paris’s teeth were chattering.
“I sent you a text, and when you didn’t reply, I got worried.”
“I . . . I left my phone inside.”
I grabbed a towel and dampened it with the warm water, then wrapped it around her feet before pulling her hands into mine and warming them with my breath—anything to infuse her with my body heat. God, she felt like ice. But I didn’t see any frostbite.
“Wha-wha-what time is it?”
Not wanting to let go of her hands, I hazarded a guess. “Probably close to eight.”
“Oh.”
“What time did you go out there?”
Paris shivered. “Jus . . . just after lunch. I just ran in to g-gr-grab some beef because our house freezer was getting low, and we just g-got an Angus back from the butcher.” Paris took several deep breaths, trying to let the steam in the room warm her from the inside.
I was glad to hear her talking even though she was shivering, but she didn’t seem to have any memory loss, and since the door was open, I seriously doubted hypothermia, but I wasn’t taking any chances, not with my Paris.
“But when I was going to leave, I saw him. He w-wa-was . . . coiled like he was going to attack. So I stepped back and waited.” She sat there, as if trying to compose her thoughts. “I couldn’t close the door since it swings out, and I couldn’t reach it, plus then I’d be frozen to death. But the damn thing wouldn’t move. I made noises. I figured he wouldn’t come into the freezer. You know, cold-blooded and all.”
“You probably scared him, so he settled in, ready to fight, but the cold air got to him. Cold air slows snakes down until they finally go to sleep. That was probably why he didn’t move on, he was too tired.”
“But he kept shaking that damn tail.”
“Well, he still felt threatened. He wasn’t going to let you out.”
A shiver wracked her body, but this time it wasn’t from the cold. “I hate snakes. I don’t even like snakeskin boots.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he’s gone before you go back out there. You won’t have to see it again.”
Just then, Holland came in with an oversized cup of coffee. “Here, sip slowly. This will warm you from the inside.”
Holland moved and turned off the tub and sink faucets since the room was full of steam. “I turned the air conditioner off in your room but left a fan on just to circulate air. I wanted to get the chill off.”
“Thanks, Holland.” She gave me a worried smile. “She’s going to be fine, I promise.” Turning my attention back to Paris, I asked, “How you feeling?”
“Better,” Paris mumbled as she held on to the mug of coffee.
“Let me look at your toes.” I unwrapped the towels and was pleased that everything looked fine. There was no dull discoloration to her skin. “Do you want to sit in a warm bath?”
Paris shook her head. “I want to lie down.”
“I don’t want you to go to sleep yet. I need to make sure that your internal temperature is back to normal, okay?”
“Will you stay?” She had no clue what she was asking of me. I’d do anything this girl asked of me. I wanted to stay. I wanted to stay every night for the rest of my life with her.
“Of course, but let’s get some food into you before you get settled.”
“Okay.” Paris placed an icy-cold hand on my arm.
Asher
Paris’s room was the epitome of girly. It was everything that represented females, from the white bedspread to the pillows. Not pillows you could sleep on or stack behind you to make yourself comfortable. No, these were worthless pillows that did nothing but take up room. She removed them, set them carefully aside each evening, then organized them perfectly each morning. I swore to god, it was the stupidest thing I’d ever seen, and one of the many things that made women endearing. Though, when I was the one moving them all, it wasn’t quite so cute.
“I’ll be right back. I’m going to go see if I can find Holland or if I can hunt for something to eat,” I said after she had settled under the covers, still clutching the mug of coffee. I pulled the door open and then stepped aside just in time to avoid being knocked over by London. Braden was following behind her, with his daughter tucked close to his chest.
“Oh my god, are you okay? I’m so sorry that no one was here. What can I get you?” I stared at the woman who I’d known since the day I was born and was shocked. London had never been the mothering sort—that was always Paris—but holy shit, she sounded like a mom.
Slow Burn: Iron Horse Series Page 3