glanced up and caught a moment he might not have meant her to see. He buried his face against the mare’s neck and murmured something she couldn’t hear. Not wanting to embarrass him, she returned her focus to the foal, which seemed perfectly formed and healthy.
Janis had been Fletch’s first brood mare, and the horse had obviously won his heart with her gentle disposition. He cared about the foal, too, but his biggest concern had been for Janis. Convinced that neither mare nor foal were in distress, Astrid scooted away to let Janis attend to her baby.
Fletch also sat back on his heels as the horse maneuvered so that she could lick her newborn clean. He gazed at the foal. “It’s a colt.”
“Yep. The ultrasound was right. You never can know for sure with those.”
A grin lit his face. “And four white socks, like his mother’s.”
“He’ll look a lot like her.”
“I’d hoped for that. And now it’s official. Buddy Holly is in residence at the Rocking G.”
Astrid laughed. “Yes, he certainly is. They both seem to be doing great.”
“I can order the nameplate for his stall, now. I was too superstitious to do it before.” Fletch’s glance sought hers. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. But after all, it’s my job.”
“I know, but you don’t treat it like a job. My previous vet did, which was why I stopped using him. I’ve watched you work with these animals. You put your heart and soul into it.”
She couldn’t imagine higher praise than that. “I love my work. That makes me a lucky lady.”
“And I’m lucky to have found you.”
Dear God, there was something more than friendship in those warm brown eyes. She swallowed. “Fletch . . .”
“I know.” His jaw firmed. “You’re my vet. I’m a client. I understand the parameters, but damn it, Astrid, does that mean we can’t . . .”
Her heart beat as if she were a wild creature suddenly trapped in a net. “I think it does mean that.”
“I could fire you.”
“You could.” That wouldn’t remove all the barriers. She’d still be a very rich woman and he would be a financially strapped rancher. But he didn’t know about that issue.
“I don’t want to fire you.” He got to his feet. “You’re a fantastic vet, a thousand times better than the guy I had before. I can’t imagine having anyone else now that I’ve seen how you work.”
She took a deep breath and stood, too. “I don’t want you to fire me, either.” She looked into his eyes, which mirrored the frustration she felt. “I love having you as a client.”
“Can’t I be a client and something more, too? Who has to know? I’m certainly not going to make a big deal about it.”
“Okay, let’s say we’re discreet.” She picked up her bag and walked out of the stall. “What if we discover somewhere down the line that we’re not right for each other? What happens to our client-vet relationship then?” She put down the bag and turned to face him as he stepped into the aisle.
His stance was wide, his expression calm, the epitome of confident male. “We wouldn’t discover that. You and I get along great.”
“In this setting, we do, but . . .”
“But what?”
She pictured dragging him to some charity ball hosted by her wealthy friends, or coaxing him to attend the opening of a show by some new darling of the Dallas art community. She’d been inside Fletch’s home. He liked western artists like Remington and Shoofly. He also didn’t seem like the tux-wearing type, but now wasn’t the time to reveal the difference in their lifestyles.
“Are you worried that we might not get along in bed?”
Oh, boy. Her hesitation had led him to the wrong conclusion. She wasn’t worried about that at all. “I—”
“Lady, we would burn up the sheets.” He smiled as he took a step closer. “And you damned well know we would.”
“Maybe.” The nearer he came, the faster her heart beat. It seemed to keep time with the rapid tattoo of the rain on the roof.
He chuckled. “I guarantee you do. I can see it in those baby blues. I wasn’t sure until this minute, when I finally got the courage to broach the subject, but we’re on the same page, you and I.”
“Okay, so I’m attracted to you, but acting on that attraction would be a really bad idea.”
He nodded. “You could be right. But that doesn’t keep me from wanting to kiss you.”
Oh. She should protest, should move back, out