Cowboy Vet

FIFTEEN MINUTES AFTER Pete had left, Rand didn’t know what surprised him more, how hot the damn coffee was that Jessie Monroe served him, or that she slid into his booth after pouring him a cup.

“Mmph,” he mumbled, as some of the coffee dribbled back onto his chin.

“Too hot, I know,” she said.

And, as always happened when he looked at Jessie Monroe, he was struck by her eyes. Huge. And green, so green they looked like the new leaves that sprouted up around town. So green he found himself wondering yet again how the heck they could be such an impossible color. And then, as he always did when he caught himself staring, he remembered who she was.

“You could have told me it was hot,” he said, whipping the paper napkin off his place mat, the silverware tinkling as it spilled onto the Formica table.

“Why warn you? You’ve eaten here enough times to know it’s hot, and that it doesn’t taste very good.”

He did. And that irritated him all the more. She riled him. She always had—even before she’d been responsible for his cousin going to jail.

“Look,” she said, peeking over her shoulder toward the kitchen where Frank flipped bacon, oblivious to his employee’s defection, “I need to talk to you.”

Rand leaned back, his hand crumpling the napkin beneath the table. His whole body tensed, although truth be told he’d been on edge ever since he’d seen who his server was.

“What about?” he asked, his fingers digging into the paper.

“I want to work for you.”

If she’d told him she was about to rip her clothes off and dance naked, he couldn’t have been more surprised. “What?” he asked.

Actually, he might like that….

“I want to interview for your vet tech job,” she said, glancing at Frank again, the pink dress she wore gaping open as she leaned forward.

“But you’re not qualified,” he protested. Good Lord, the thought of Jessie Monroe coming to work for him…

“Actually,” she said, lifting her chin, “I am. I have a degree in animal science.”

What? “How?”

“Lots of late hours at the coffee shop while commuting to the Bay Area.”

“Which college?”

“Gavilan,” she said.

Something in his eyes must have made her think he wasn’t impressed, because she added, “It’s one of the top junior colleges in the state.”

“I know it is,” he said. It wasn’t the college she’d gone to, it was that she wanted to work as his veterinary assistant. Her. Jessie Monroe. Who as a wild-child teenager had let Tommy take the rap for her.

Rand absolutely would not hire her.

“Look, Jessie,” he said, “I’ve had hundreds of applicants—”

“Qualified applicants?” she asked, having obviously overheard him talking to Pete.

Rand tipped his head. “Some, yeah. My point being that there are people who’ve applied already, people I need to consider ahead of you.”

“But I might be better qualified than them,” she said. Her eyes seemed to shimmer. “Something you won’t know unless you interview me.”

“Nah. I’ve already looked over the applicants. A few of them have actual work experience, Jessie, not a bunch of college credits and a few lab classes under their belt.”

“How do you know that’s all I’ve got?”

“Educated guess.”

She leaned toward him. “Sometimes the most highly educated individuals are incompetent.”

“You got more than that?”

“Actually, I do,” she said proudly. “I’ve been interning at a breeding farm in the Bay Area part-time.”

“Then why don’t you go work for them?”

“Because the commute is killing me.”

He looked up at her. He didn’t really believe that excuse. “Then move to the Bay Area.”

“I don’t want to move. I like this town.”

“Jessie—”

“You just don’t want to hire me,” she interrupted.

“No. That’s not it—”

“Bull,” she said, slipping out of the booth. “Your refusal to interview me has nothing to do with my qualifications and everything to do with your cousin.”

“Well, yeah,” Rand said. “I’m not going to lie to you.”

She stared, and he could have sworn he saw hurt in her eyes. “You still think those drugs were mine?”

“With your reputation, why would I think that?”

“Because people are innocent until proven guilty.”

“There was nothing innocent about you.”

“And Tommy Lockford, cousin to the great Rand Sheppard, was a saint.”

“More of a saint than you were.” Rand took another sip of coffee, even though the topic of conversation all but turned his stomach.

“So you think.”

“So I know,” he said, throwing her words back in her face.