“How many ewes are you—I mean we—preg testing?”

Fletch gestured to the full pen. “I’m guessing two hundred and fifty.”

“So we’ll be here all night?”

“Nope. It’ll take ninety minutes. Tops. If we don’t take a break. Two hours if we do.”

Tanna smirked. “I’m fully rested. And I wanna see you in action, August Fletcher, DVM. Show me your stuff.”

“Prepare to be wowed.” After she’d settled opposite him, he motioned to Renee, Harland’s wife, who was manning the chute, to open the gate.

Then he slipped into professional mode and got to work.

He didn’t realize how much time had passed, or how deep he’d gone into work zone, until Renee yelled, “Last one, Doc.”

Tanna said, “Thank God.”

“This mama’s carrying triplets.” The exit chute gate opened and the ewe trotted out. Fletch shut off the machine and stood, moving his neck side to side and then arching back.

“I couldn’t believe how many multiples there are,” Tanna said after hopping over the metal corral to his side.

“Too many isn’t a good thing. A huge percentage of triplet pregnancies end up with all three lambs lost as well as the ewe.”

They walked in silence back to the vehicle and ditched the equipment.

Fletch noticed Tanna was limping slightly. “Did you hurt yourself today?”

That surprised her. “Not here. I fell in the pasture running away from the horses and wrenched my bad knee.”

“Lemme look at it.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“Then it oughtn’t be a big deal for me to take a look at it.” He pointed to the back of his truck. “Park it.”

“Fletch—”

“Now.”

Tanna grumbled under her breath but she obeyed.

He clamped her ankle between his thighs and curled his hands on her leg above her kneecap. “Is it a dull throb? Or a sharp, shooting pain?”

“It fluctuates between both of those.”

Fletch pushed her leg up slowly until the point she winced. “Sorry. Just needed to test your range of motion.” He forced himself to focus on the movement of her muscles and not how soft her skin felt beneath his hands. “Have you been having flare-ups from your previous injury?”

“Some. But I don’t use the muscles in the same way at my new job. I’m standing or sitting or walking.”

“You been keeping up with your physical therapy exercises since you moved here?”

Tanna lifted her chin. “Not really.”

Fletch got right in her face. “Wrong answer, sugar twang. From here on out I’m gonna make sure you use this time off from an injury . . . oh, to recover from that injury, by doin’ the exercises you’re supposed to.”

“Like you’ve got time to be my personal PT/OT?” she scoffed.

“I’ll make time. I’ve been an athlete all my life, so I have a pretty good idea of what the PT/OT were doin’ with you.”

“Right. You’re an animal doctor.”

“Humans were part of the animal kingdom the last time I checked. So indulge this backward country vet. Were these some of the exercises you’re supposed to be doin’?” He demonstrated six exercises and felt a little smug when she admitted he’d guessed correctly.

But Tanna wasn’t done being snarky. “It’s pointless.”

He locked his gaze to hers as his fingers gently massaged the inside of her thigh above her knee. “So if you brought your injured horse to me and I gave you instructions on strengthening and conditioning to stave off lameness, would you do it?”

“Of course.”

“Then it makes no sense that you wouldn’t take care of yourself and follow your doctor’s instructions. Your agility ain’t something to be trifled with, Tanna. Promise me you’ll start doin’ your exercises again because I hate to see you hurting.”

That was the right thing to say, because she sighed. “When you put it that way . . . okay. Thank you for the rubdown. It feels better already.”

“Anytime.”

Tanna slid out of the truck. “So, what happens now?”

“The Ludlows will ask us to stay for supper. Up to you if we do.”

“What would you do if I wasn’t here?”

“I’d stay. Renee and Betsy are great cooks. The kids make me laugh. Harland and Kirk have a unique ag perspective, so I enjoy talking to them.”

“Then we’ll stay.”

Fletch looked at her and smiled. “Good. I’ll warn ya that Harland’s daughter Ellie might be hostile toward you.”

“Got her sights set on you, does she?”

“Yep. She’s assisted me many times and she’s made no bones about the fact she intends to marry me.”

A pause. “Well, you are quite the catch, Doc.”

Was it his imagination, or had Tanna gotten a little snippy? Was she jealous?

Wishful thinking.

“Let’s go wash up.” When they reached the pump, he warned her, “It’s erratic so watch out.”

Tanna pushed up her sleeves and rolled her eyes. “Ain’t the first time I’ve pumped something.” She pulled on the handle, pumped it twice to get water flowing. She winked at him. “I’ll share my stream with you.”

“Thoughtful.” Fletch cupped water and scrubbed his forearms. This was one of the cleaner jobs he’d done today. He rinsed and retreated, drying off with a disposable towel.