Bittersweet. Laura Browning

On his right hip, she saw a jagged tear about eight inches long, a messy wound that would require careful stitching.

      Stevenson turned to look at her, his eyes challenging. “Still ready to take this on?” he asked with a sardonic twist to his lips.

      Anna gazed at him without batting an eyelash. “I’ll get my supplies. Would you prefer to bring him in the aisle or would you like me to do that when I return, since he seems a bit rattled?” Her tone dripped ice.

      Stevenson looked her up and down. “I’ll bring him. He’s a stud, and I give you fair warning, he’s always had more than his share of attitude.”

      Anna bit back the retort on the tip of her tongue about him having something in common with the horse besides their hind ends and nodded before spinning on her heel. She had dealt with bigger horses’ asses than this one, and she wasn’t referring to the horse.

      She sighed with relief when she reached her truck and saw Becca still slept. “Bless you, sweetheart,” Anna whispered to the baby.

      She checked to make sure her daughter was still dry and stroked a finger over her soft cheek. With one last sigh, Anna opened the tailgate. She always kept a plastic caddy ready to grab, which she stocked with the supplies most often needed. After picking it up, along with a few other items she’d need, she hurried along the aisle. Chris was snapping crossties on the stallion as she approached. The big horse stomped his front foot before kicking out with his right rear leg as if trying to dislodge whatever it was causing him pain. Anna set her supplies several feet away and slipped the syringe of sedative inside the front pocket of her coveralls.

      As she approached the horse, she murmured to him, watching his ears flick backward and forward as she continued talking.

      “You can release him, Mr. Stevenson,” Anna directed in the same even tone she used with the horse. Once he turned the halter loose, the horse quit stomping and stretched his nose toward her.

      Anna stopped in front of him. Her face was scarcely higher than the horse’s flared nostrils. He puffed at her and she blew back. The horse’s head relaxed and both ears came forward.

      “That’s it, big man. Why be scared of something as tiny as me?”

      Anna touched him on the cheek before stepping to his side and stroking his neck. Before either the horse or the man was aware of it, she slipped the hypodermic with the sedative into the horse’s vein and delivered the drug. She continued to talk to the stallion as the horse’s eyes drooped.

      Anna bent to look at Chris from under the tall Thoroughbred’s neck. “Do you have a step stool close by, Mr. Stevenson? If not, I can get the one I carry in the truck.”

      Stevenson’s pale gray eyes had lost their sardonic expression, but not the hostility.

      “Sure,” he responded in a clipped voice. He stepped away, returning in a couple of minutes with a lightweight mounting block. “Will this work?”

      Anna smiled. “Perfect. Thank you.”

      She sensed Chris’s critical gaze on her but dismissed it. He’d have to deal with his own hang-ups without her help. Right now she had a job to do. Anna worked with careful efficiency, first cleaning the wound before checking for any underlying tissue damage. She was relieved to see it was only a tear to the hide and did not involve any muscle.

      “How did he do this?” She lifted a brow in inquiry. Even standing on the second step of the mounting block, she stood barely above eye level.

      “A fool of a groom who was careless with the gate when he tried to bring him in tonight. Bart caught himself on the latch coming in.”

      “That explains the tearing more than cutting,” Anna mused as she returned to her work. She used small, neat stitches, tying off the sutures as she finished each one. As she was knotting the last one, she heard Becca wail. Oh no! Just what she needed. She hoped she might be able to get away from the farm without Stevenson realizing there was a baby in the truck. A baby she preferred he didn’t see.

      His head jerked toward the barn doorway. “What the hell?”

      Anna felt the tingling in her breasts that signaled her milk letting down and knew she was leaking. Becca’s cry was like an instant trigger to nurse, and she was already long overdue. She hunched her shoulders and jumped off the mounting block. There was no way around it. At least he hadn’t recognized her, and at the moment, that was a plus she would accept with gratitude.

      “My daughter. Your stallion should start to wake in the next fifteen minutes,” she explained even as she packed. “He should be fine to go in his stall. I’ll check on him in the morning.”

      Anna shoved everything into the caddy and the buckets she had brought with her and turned to escape. The leaks from her breasts grew heavier as her daughter continued to cry. Her entire focus was on getting away and finding a place to nurse. She was not sure how long the nursing pads would hold.

      “Whoa!” Stevenson commanded. Anna stopped, her mouth tightening. “I want you here until this horse recovers from the sedative.”

      Anna frowned then looked along the aisle to the truck parked on the edge of the light spilling from the end of the barn, and the increasing volume of the hungry wails emanating from it.

      Stevenson ran a hand through his sandy hair in obvious frustration. “This is my best stud. I want you here in case there’s a problem. Can’t you call your husband or boyfriend or someone to take her?”

      Anna’s eyes narrowed. “No, I can’t. She’s not a puppy, Mr. Stevenson and she’s hungry now.” No way was she going to let him know there was no husband, not even a boyfriend.

      He expelled his breath. “Go get her and bring her in.”

      Nowhere had she heard a please, but what had she expected? Anna shifted. Now was not the time to worry about manners. “Fine,” she mumbled.

      As distasteful as she found him and as tempting as it might be, Anna knew she couldn’t afford to anger one of her clinic’s biggest clients. The job was too new, she needed it too much, and if she alienated someone like Stevenson, it would leave the vets who owned the clinic little choice but to get rid of her. She might be excused for taking a tone with him after he questioned her identity and credentials, but ignoring his wishes about this was different.

      She hurried from the barn. As soon as she picked up her daughter, the baby reached for her, making smacking noises with her lips. Anna laughed and felt everything inside her melt. As she cradled the baby in one arm, she used her other hand to unzip the coverall. She bared her swollen breast and leaned against the pickup with a sigh of relief as Becca latched on and suckled. Her tiny fingers pushed against Anna’s breast.

      “Is everything okay?”

      She almost jumped out of her skin as she heard Chris’s impatient voice. She threw the blanket dangling from her hand over her half-bared front. “She was hungry,” she replied in a somewhat shaky voice as she angled herself away from the man coming around the side of the truck.

      “You can give her a bottle inside where it’s light,” Stevenson added as if he were granting her a huge favor.

      “I’m nursing her, Mr. Stevenson. She won’t take a bottle.”

      “Oh.”

      Anna almost laughed as she saw him halt. He was tall enough his face was in the light showing from the barn over the top of the pickup. For the first time since she arrived at Fincastle, Chris appeared at a loss for words, and she felt a small spurt of cynical amusement. Of course he would be unprepared to deal with the normal result of the sex act. The only thing he was interested in was the performance, not any repercussions.

      He cleared his throat and coughed, his gaze skittering away from her. He shifted his weight from one booted foot to the other, and if the light were better, Anna would have sworn a blush stained his tan cheeks.

      “You may still come inside if you’d prefer. Sit in my office,