Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 123171 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 616(@200wpm)___ 493(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123171 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 616(@200wpm)___ 493(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
“It’ll all work out.” Mason waves his hand in the air and starts pulling up different hotels. We’re trying to decide between Miami or Vegas when someone comes up behind me, placing a hand on my shoulder.
“Dr. Harris,” a woman says, and I turn, coming face to face with Poppy Randolph.
“Ms. Randolph,” I reply, leaning back. Why is she so close to me? Poppy has been a client for a few years now after moving here from the east coast, and in all those years I can’t decide if I like working with her or can’t fucking stand it. She lives on the opposite side of Silver Ridge than I do and has several horses. On paper, she’s an ideal client. She always pays her bills on time, never challenges me on my medical advice, and spares no expense taking care of her horses. Her barn is always pristine, the horses have access to fresh hay throughout the day, and every horse gets exercised and groomed daily.
But there’s something about her that rubs me the wrong way. While she’s never been anything but polite to me, she has one of those I’m better than you attitudes and can be rather heavy-handed when it comes to training her horses. They’re kept in their stalls more than they’re out in the pasture, but the stalls get cleaned multiple times a day and the horses always have fresh hay, so they are very far from being mistreated.
Different horse owners have different opinions on what’s best for their horses, and, as long as it’s not a neglectful situation, there’s little I can do other than offer my professional opinion.
“Please, call me Poppy.” She smiles and straightens up, brushing her blonde hair back. “I didn’t expect to see you here,” she says with a laugh.
“My brother doesn’t get out very often,” Mason adds.
“Brother? The doctor?” Poppy pushes her shoulders back and holds out her hand for Mason to shake.
“The FBI agent,” Mason says back. He’s good at reading people and knows right away the kind of person Poppy is. She’s attractive, though, so while he’ll tell me in the morning she’s a fucking pretentious bitch, there’s still a chance he’ll try and sleep with her tonight.
Whatever. Not my circus. Not my monkeys.
“Oh, wow. You know I have just the utmost respect for the law.” She obviously eyes Mason up and down and I do my best not to throw up on her expensive shoes. “You’re here visiting?”
“I am,” Mason says and leans forward, flashing a smirk at Poppy. “I’ll be leaving soon for a top-secret assignment.”
I don’t know if it’s a blessing or a curse to have such little shame.
“If I could tell you about it, I would,” Mason goes on. “But you know who can talk about his job? My dear brother, Jacob.”
If I could inflict pain with a single glare, I would in that moment. The couple sitting at the bar next to us gets up to leave and Poppy quickly takes their place, scooting her stool close to mine. “And we all just appreciate him so much,” she tells Mason, eyes on me. “There aren’t many people I trust with my horses, but Dr. Harris is the best.”
“That’s what I’ve heard. He really knows what he’s doing,” Mason continues, and I know at this point he’s doing it just to be an asshole. Even if Poppy was someone I’d be interested in, I have a strict don’t sleep with my clients rule that I one hundred percent will stick to. Nothing complicates things like sex, even if you make it clear from the beginning that’s all it’s going to be.
I meet Mason’s eye for just half a second and he knows he took things too far.
“It was nice to meet you, Poppy Rudolph,” he says. “We were getting ready to leave. Got an early morning for the both of us.”
“Oh, right. Well, it was very nice to meet you.” She smiles again and lets her gaze linger on me before going back to join her friends.
“Dude, she totally wants you to rail her.” Mason finishes his drink.
“Doesn’t matter. She’s a client. I don’t sleep with clients. Plus she’s…”
“Deplorable?” Mason offers and then laughs. “She’s living off Daddy’s money, though she must not have as much as she likes people to think.”
I get out my wallet to pay for the drinks Mason and I ordered when we first got here. “What makes you say that?”
“Her bag is a knockoff, her nails are chipped, and the diamond bracelet on her left wrist is fake,” he tells me quietly, and I’m aware that he knows these things not because he’s caught up with today’s fashion trends, but because of his job.
“Still, she’s hot. And horse girls can be wild. They like to ride big things.” He wiggles his eyebrows and I just shake my head. “We really should get out of here, though. I do have to leave in the morning.”