Naturally, Harper chose that exact moment to become coherent. “What injured heifer? Where?”

Don’t say it.

“He was referring to you, sugar,” Fletch pointed out.

Shit. Bran felt her entire body stiffen behind him.

“Bran called me a . . . heifer?”

“Yes.” Fletch snapped at Bran. “She’s clearly not in need of my medical expertise.”

Then Bran did something rare—he babbled. “She got pitched off the ATV. I thought she was fine. I did the basic checks for head and body injuries and then, wham! It was as if she clocked out. Vacant eyes. Listlessness. She couldn’t even stand. She just ... crashed.”

“You didn’t drive her to town . . . why?”

He didn’t answer because really, what could he say?

“Because you knew I’d come running out here and save you the trouble, that’s why,” Fletch finished for him.

Harper peered around Bran’s shoulder. “Excuse me. Who are you and why are you here?”

All Fletch’s surliness vanished. He dropped his duffel and the sheet and smiled that cocky grin that made women swoon.

Maybe this hadn’t been the best idea. Bran sure as hell didn’t want Harper swooning over his buddy.

“I’m August Fletcher and I’m here because my lamebrain friend called me to check out your injury.”

“Are you a doctor?”

“Of sorts.”

Harper waited.

“I’m a veterinarian.”

Silence.

Shit. Shit. Shit. This wasn’t good.

Harper bailed off the back of the ATV like it was about to explode. Or maybe she was about to explode.

“A veterinarian, Bran Turner? Really? You called a veterinarian to look me over?”

Before Bran could formulate a reasonable argument, Fletch stood in front of Harper, probably to block the blows she intended to inflict upon Bran’s neck and head.

“Now, look, sugar, I know you’re mad at him. With good reason. But I am here. There are a couple of basic checks I can do to see if there’s need for Bran to drive you to the hospital.”

Another round of silence. Then, “Do we have to do this out here? Because, to be honest, I’m freezing.”

“I’m sure. It’d be more comfortable to do it at Bran’s place. Especially since I’ll need to get you out of these clothes.”

What the f**k? Fletch planned to take her clothes off? Bran glared at his friend.

Fletch placed his hand in the small of Harper’s back, almost on her ass. “It’s warm in my truck. You can tell me what happened and how you feel.” Fletch shot Bran an arch look over Harper’s shoulder. “See you at your house.”

“How am I supposed to get both these ATVs back?”

“Not my concern. I have a patient to look after.” Fletch stopped at the front end of his rig. “Take your time. I plan on doing a thorough examination on Harper. Just to make sure I don’t miss anything.”

Bran wondered how Fletch’s smarmy smile would look with a few teeth missing.

Her boss had called a veterinarian to check her out.

The jerk.

Her head hurt. Her butt hurt. But the sting to her pride? That hurt the worst.

Did Bran really think she was a heifer?

“I really think he meant well, Harper,” Fletch said gently as they bumped through the pasture.

She folded her arms across her chest and snorted.

“How long have you been working for him?”

“A week. A very long week.”

Fletch chuckled. “And how long did you sign on for?”

“Too long.” Harper stared out the window, watching the snow blanket everything in white. It wasn’t fair to take her anger out on Fletch. Not his fault that Bran was a jerk. “So you’re a veterinarian who makes house calls?”

“Yep. I don’t handle cats or dogs in my practice. I’m strictly a large-animal vet, so I make lots of ranch calls.”

“Terrific. Now I really feel like a heifer.”

Another chuckle. “Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

After she finished, she studied his face as he processed the information. The guy was . . . big. He had to be at least six foot four. And broad. It appeared his shoulders took up half the seat back. His face was classically handsome, hazel eyes, and longish hair the color of strong coffee. A dark complexion, which hinted at Native American ancestry. And when he smiled? Lord. That dazzling grin glowed brighter than the snow surrounding them.

How was it that she’d never met him? Muddy Gap was a small community. She and Celia had frequently hung out with Hank and Abe’s buddies. She definitely would’ve remembered August Fletcher. “You live around here?”

Fletch nodded. “In Rawlins. I also work in Cheyenne, Laramie, and all spots in between. I’m gone a lot.”

He parked sideways, blocking the front steps to Bran’s trailer. Harper wondered if he’d done it on purpose. Seemed like Fletch wanted to poke at Bran, to pay him back for calling him all the way out here to treat a human. A human female, no less. She was all for it.

Inside, Harper started a pot of coffee and returned to the living room.

“Why don’t you take off the coveralls, boots, and all that outerwear and sit on the couch?” He tossed a fleece blanket at her. “Cover up in this to stay warm.”

Fletch wasn’t particularly chatty, nor was he in any hurry to start the exam. Or had he planned to have Bran present for it? When the whining ATV motor sounded close to the house, Fletch’s entire demeanor changed.