Bossing the Cowboy (Circle B Ranch #4) - Kennedy Fox Page 0,32

in the corner? My ass is gettin’ sore from these chairs, and it’ll be much quieter. Fewer distractions.”

I swallow hard. “Sure, whatever will help you.”

“Thanks. You can grab yourself some coffee or whatever you want. I think I’ve had ten cups today, so I’m sticking to water.”

It’s dinnertime here, and the guests are starting to pile in, so I wait behind a few people before filling up a mug and grabbing a plate of food. Since I didn’t eat before coming, I might as well now.

“Oh good choice. Maize’s stuffed shells are the best!” she says when I take a seat.

“You’re not gonna eat?” I ask when she sits.

“I did when I took a break. Some of the ranch hands came in and distracted me, so I figured I’d eat and reset while I waited for you.”

“Alright, so tell me what you’ve been working on.”

Elle grabs her journal and flips through the pages. “Boring shit.”

I almost crack a smile. The state boards are quite mundane. It tests on three publications: Veterinary licensing act, Texas board veterinary medical examiners rules of professional conduct, and licensing rules.

“I’ll start with an easy one,” I offer, grabbing the notecards. “Define practice of veterinary medicine.”

Elle groans with an eye roll. “Oh come on. Don’t insult me.”

The dry way she says it actually makes me laugh.

“You’re right. Could probably recite it in your sleep.”

Elle gives me a look, narrowing her eyes as if she’s studying me.

“What?” I ask.

“I finally made you laugh. I was beginning to think you didn’t know how,” she muses.

Now I’m the one who groans. “Of course I do.”

“Could’ve fooled me. I was startin’ to think you were half-robot.”

“I’m just a serious person.” I shrug.

“And why’s that? Have you always been?”

“We aren’t here to ask questions about me,” I remind her. “This is your study time.”

“Mm-hmm. Figured you’d dodge that question, but I had to try anyway.” She shrugs. “Alright, ask me one for real.”

“How often does the board conduct licensing exams for veterinarians?”

“Twice a year,” she replies correctly.

“What’s one reason the board may issue a special license to practice veterinary medicine to an applicant?”

“Um…” As she thinks it over, she bites her lip.

I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I’ve thought about how soft they look. How they’d taste against mine or feel against my skin. I almost found out when I ran into her at the club a year and a half ago. We were inches apart, and my drunk ass was fighting to kiss her. But I knew better. It’d fuck up everything, and I couldn’t risk losing her—even if it’s only in a professional manner.

“If the person is licensed to practice in another jurisdiction and the board determines their specialty is unrepresented or underrepresented in this state.”

“Correct.”

“True or false, another veterinarian in the same clinic can refill a script previously filled by a doctor in the same clinic.”

“That’s true!”

“What do compound medications need to include? Hint: there are ten things.”

She holds up her fingers as she correctly lists them without hesitation.

“How long are controlled drug logs kept for?”

“I wanna say…a minimum of five years?”

“Yes.”

After quizzing her for a straight hour, she hasn’t missed one. Not that I’m surprised, but by the exhaustion in her eyes, I’m definitely proud of how much she’s retained. I like to think my notecards have had some impact, but she’s determined and wants this more than anyone I’ve ever known.

“Okay, break time,” I say. “You’re doing great.”

“I hadn’t realized how much I remembered until you started quizzing me.” She smiles, standing up and stretching. The dining room has quieted down, and it’s just the two of us in the corner. “Maybe you’re my lucky charm.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” I say. “You know this stuff. You’ve heard it for four years.”

“It still seems overwhelming.” She sits down, but now she’s inched closer on the couch. Elle turns toward me.

“You’ll have no problem getting over the eighty-five percent passing score,” I tell her with certainty.

“What did you get?” she asks.

“How about I tell you after you get your score?”

“Why?” She arches a suspicious brow. “Worried I’ll beat yours?”

“Nah. It’ll just be something to look forward to when you get your Authority to Practice letter.”

She moans, and the sound alerts my dick.

“Fine, but now I’m more determined than ever to make sure I beat yours.”

I’m shoulder-deep in a heifer, trying to turn the calf so the mama can give birth without more complications. Mr. Rhodes contacted me early this morning in a panic because she’d been