I’d wanted Sarah, but Claire was my child.

After all this time, Sarah was the one I wanted… and I wasn’t sure if that said how sad of a fucker I was or if what I’d felt for her was the only real love I was ever going to know.

“The only way to get out of the auction is to be like me.” Kale lifted his non-IV’d arm to point at his head. “Avoid a cow.”

“I’ll deal with Mandy,” I said on a sigh. “And show up for the auction. I have to go track down a loose cow before anyone else gets hurt. Then I’ve got to pick up Claire from her school’s summer camp.”

“Tell her Uncle Kale will take her to the library next week.”

I huffed out a laugh at their usual date activity. “Maple had puppies. I think you’re low on her list right now.”

He gave a look of mock horror. “My favorite girl blinded by puppies? I’ll stop by then. She can show them off. Might even pick one for myself. My papers and other things are still in my truck. Graham said he’d get it towed and have my briefcase at the station for me. Can you check on that? Because I don’t want it going to the junkyard before it’s cleaned out.”

“Anything else? For a guy laid up because of a cow, you’re pretty needy.”

He gave me the middle finger. Yeah, he was going to be fine. I gave him the bird right back and left the ER. I had shit to do, including tracking down a damned cow.

3

SARAH

Friday afternoon

I pulled the flatbed tow truck over to the side of the road just past where the older pickup had stopped in the field. It was clear it had missed the turn and gone straight into the alfalfa, taking the wire fencing and a post with it. Even from where I sat, I could see the front axle was bent so bad one of the tires was facing sideways. The front bumper was at the base of the ditch, ripped off when the truck had hit nose-first.

Before I turned off the engine, I noticed on the dash that the tow truck’s temperature gauge was a little high. Closing my eyes for a second, I mentally swore at Roy and my dad for ignoring the coolant. I pushed open the door and jumped down from the seat, grabbing my work gloves.

Graham Armstrong was the deputy on scene. The only one, in fact, who remained to wait for me. He approached, offering an easy smile. I’d gone to school with his younger sister, who had the same red hair. “Surprised to see you here,” he said. “You don’t usually go out on calls.”

I frowned because while he was making only small talk, he’d struck a nerve. It was true. While my father called O’Banyon Auto Shop a family business, all I usually touched were the books. My father wouldn’t let me touch the cars, whether on an accident like this or in one of the three repair bays in the shop. At least, not if he was around. I did, on occasion, without him knowing, when one of the guys who worked for him wasn’t available. These days it was only Dad and Roy, the other mechanic.