Emilia hadn’t initially struck her as assertive. That haunted look in her eyes engaged Morgan’s natural protective instincts and lowered her defenses. Today, she’d paid the price, and if she had any sense she’d run.

Instead, all she could think about was how Emilia would look riding her, head flung back, hair cascading down her shoulders as she came. The image distracted her so much she missed her turn. Stevie didn’t offer any snarky commentary as she corrected their course and pulled into their next appointment.

She’d been honest with Emilia. Probably too honest. She didn’t have the willpower necessary to resist her, and it felt too damn good to feel wanted.

Stevie cleared her throat. Morgan realized she’d been staring at her hands on the wheel with the truck in idle. Killing the engine, she let her head fall back against the headrest with a groan.

“I hate ponies, too, but they won’t vaccinate themselves.”

“Stevie.”

“What?”

“What do I do?”

“How did you leave it? Besides blue-balled.”

“I put the ball in her court.”

“Why are you such a masochist?”

“I don’t want to push her.”

“No. You want her to push you,” Stevie muttered. Morgan glared at her. Louder, Stevie said, “Then I guess all you can do is see what happens and try not to fall too hard. You’re still the only doctor on ambulatory, and Danielle will kill you if you break yourself any more than you already have.”

“Good talk.”

“Morgan.”

She paused with her hand on the door. “What?”

“Be careful. If you can.”

“I’ll try. Ready to wrangle some minis?”

“Never.”

Watching Stevie wrestle miniature horses significantly brightened her mood. Her friend kept a tight smile on her face to soothe the anxious owner of the small herd, who hovered nearby but made no move to help. Morgan was never sure whether to be frustrated when owners stayed out of the way or relieved. She settled on amused as Stevie held a particularly badly behaved yearling for her to examine.

“Easy,” Morgan murmured to the little horse. It cocked one curved ear at her and snorted, unconvinced.

You’re right, little dude. Nothing is ever easy. Better to know, better to accept Emilia’s imminent departure instead of daring to hope that this time things might be different.

•   •   •

They swung by the grocery store on the way home. Morgan limped along behind Stevie, who wielded the cart like a weapon as she pulled food off the shelves.

“What brand of pasta does Lil like? I can never remember,” Stevie asked.

“The kind I can’t afford. Go with the store brand.”

“She’ll kill you.”

“She’ll get over it.”

“Sometimes I think, ‘Stevie, is being a vet tech really what you want to do with your life?’ Then I go shopping with you and I feel better.”

“Very funny.”