Chapter 1: When the New One Knows Horses

Emily McDonald | Friday morning, early September

“Buck, please…”

The gelding thrashed harder, iron shoes striking sparks off concrete. Emily ducked back, the edge of a hoof passing close enough to feel the air displace. Fear and sweat (his, hers) acrid and sharp. Emergency lights from her truck strobed red against the predawn sky, turning everything into a crime scene.

Another emergency. Another day starting in the dark.

She loved her job. She told herself that every morning. The puzzle of diagnosis, the satisfaction of a successful treatment. But lately, it felt like a war against injury and illness, and she was losing ground. And sleep. Definitely sleep.

Up ahead, Sacred Peaks Ranch was already a hive of activity despite the early hour. Lily’s sunrise yoga class ommed in the meadow. Construction trucks rumbled toward the old barn. June and Stevie were building something special here: a place for healing of all kinds. Emily just handled the animal-related emergencies. She was the mechanic, not the artist.

Buck, the ranch’s most reliable trail horse. And now he danced on three legs while a hysterical guest sobbed somewhere behind the circle of concerned staff.

“Easy, boy.” She reached for his fetlock again. Swelling. Heat. A bad angle. Potential fracture. Career-ending.

“Doc?” June appeared at her elbow, voice tight. “How bad is it?”

“Still assessing.” She fumbled for the sedative in her kit.

“Buck’s injury couldn’t come at a worse time,” June said, running a hand through her hair.

The Colorado morning air cut through her father’s old CSU Veterinary pullover. Three days she’d been wearing this sweatshirt. Her auburn hair escaped its messy ponytail in wisps that caught the strobing light, and she pushed them back with her forearm to avoid getting sweat in her eyes.

Buck shied away from her, eyes rolling again. Damn it.

“He won’t let me get near him,” she said, frustration mounting.

“Excuse me.”

The voice rolled over her. Soft with an edge, like velvet wrapped around steel. Emily turned, annoyed at the interruption.

And her brain short-circuited.

Oh. Oh no.

The woman standing there was… a lot. Dark hair woven with silver charms catching the pulsing red glow. Flowing embroidered blouse that somehow looked both practical and impossible. An expression of such profound calm it felt like a personal affront to Emily’s current state of controlled panic.

Stop staring.

“I’m Alex Rivera, the new equine therapist.” Warm honey with a kick of chili. That voice. Alex’s gaze moved past Emily to Buck, assessing. “Mind if I help?”

Emily’s pulse kicked. Damn. Curves and confidence, moving like she’d been born in a barn.

She shifted, blocking the path to Buck. Another amateur horse whisperer.

“I didn’t ask for help.” The edge in her voice had lost its teeth.

“No.” Alex’s expression softened. Emily’s chest did something stupid: a flutter, a skip. “But he did.”

“I…” Emily started, but Alex was already moving past her with a startling poise that was ridiculously attractive.

Who is this woman, and why can’t I hold a syringe properly? “He’s pretty worked up. I’m not sure…”

“He’s feeling your stress.” Alex’s smile was gentle, perceptive, with just enough tease in it to make her flush. “All that adrenaline won’t help whatever you’re planning to give him. Maybe let me try something first?”

Emily opened her mouth to argue. She was the vet here, after all. But the words died when Alex began to hum.

Alex approached Buck like she had all the time in the world. The scent of vanilla and sage drifted with her.

How does someone smell that good at seven in the morning?

The woman began humming under her breath, something low and rhythmic Emily didn’t recognize, while her fingers found pressure points along Buck’s jaw and neck.

Alex switched to something that sounded Spanish, her voice barely above a whisper. “Estás bien. You are ok.”

And impossibly, incredibly, Buck’s breathing began to slow.

She just hummed at my patient. And it’s working. How?

Alex’s steady breathing seemed to calm the air itself. The horse’s eyes settled. His weight settled more evenly on his three good legs. The frantic energy that had been pouring off him began to dissipate, replaced by something that looked almost like… peace?

“How the hell…” she started, but Alex caught her eye and shook her head almost imperceptibly. Don’t break the spell, that look said.

Within two minutes, Buck was standing calm enough for Emily to approach his injured leg without him trying to kick her head off. She knelt beside his fetlock, palpated the swollen joint. Heat. Instability. But the telltale grind of bone on bone? Absent. Relief flooded through her so suddenly the world tilted.

“Well?” June asked quietly.

“Severe sprain. No fracture.” She pulled her kit closer. “He’ll be fine.”

Through it all (local anesthetic, anti-inflammatory, the careful wrap) Alex stayed at Buck’s head. That humming, low and constant. When Emily finally stood, brushing dirt from her knees, their eyes met.

Alex looked up. Met her eyes. Something in that dark gaze made Emily’s breath catch. “You have good hands.” The words came quiet, meant only for her. “Quiet and sure.”

Emily’s head snapped up. The compliment landed with unnerving accuracy, mirroring her own thoughts about Alex. Heat spread up her neck. “You… you just hummed a half-ton animal into submission,” she retorted, the words tumbling out in a flustered rush. “I’m not sure which of us is the bigger nerd here.”

A genuine, startlingly beautiful laugh escaped Alex. “I think the term you’re looking for is ‘gifted,’” she said, her smile a playful challenge. “It was mostly science. With a little bit of magic.”

“The science I get,” Emily admitted, the veterinarian in her reasserting itself. “Vagus nerve stimulation, stress hormone reduction. It’s the magic part I’m worried about.”

“Don’t be,” Alex’s voice dropped, becoming intimate. “The magic part is my treat.”

Before Emily could formulate a response that didn’t involve her brain completely short-circuiting, June reappeared, already pulling out her phone. “Thanks, Doc.” She glanced between them with barely concealed amusement. “Good thing you two have chemistry. That rescue Thoroughbred’s coming next week.”

Emily glanced at Alex, who was now murmuring a quiet goodbye to Buck, mesmerizingly stroking his neck.

Both of us. Working together. That sounded less like a professional collaboration and more like a very specific kind of danger.

Twenty minutes later, Buck was settled in his stall with fresh water and hay, munching contentedly like nothing had happened. June had disappeared to update the riding schedule, and Emily was packing up her kit when Alex leaned against the fence beside her.

The morning sun had climbed higher, warming the air with the scent of pine and sage. Emily zipped her bag shut, very aware of Alex’s presence. That embroidered blouse. Those silver charms catching the light. Stop it.

“So,” Alex said, and there was something in her voice. Amusement, maybe? “You come here often?”

Emily snorted before she could stop herself. The laugh surprised her, bubbling up from somewhere she’d forgotten existed. “Only when the horses try to kill themselves.”

Alex’s laugh was rich and warm, the kind that made you want to hear it again. “Then I guess I’ll see you around.”

Her stomach did that stupid thing again. “Why’s that?”

Alex’s smile turned knowing, and those dark eyes held hers for a beat too long. “Because I work here now. And something tells me you’ll be finding reasons to stop by.”

Heat flooded her face, and damn it, she could feel herself blushing. “I have a job to do.”

“Mmm,” Alex hummed, and the sound went straight through her. “So do I.” She pushed off the fence with easy grace. “See you tomorrow, Doc.”

Doc. Not Dr. McDonald. Not even Emily, since they hadn’t gotten that far. Just Doc, said with that hint of teasing warmth that made her want to…

What the hell is wrong with you?

Emily watched Alex walk away, all curves and swaying charms, before she practically threw herself into her truck. Classical music blared from the speakers, but it couldn’t drown out the memory of Alex’s humming.

She shifted into drive, then paused. In the rearview mirror, the ranch stretched golden in the morning light. There in the barn doorway stood Alex, hands on her hips, watching Emily’s truck with that same knowing, gentle smile.

I am in so much trouble.

Her phone buzzed with another emergency, a mare with colic up near Pagosa Springs. Work. Medical problems she could solve with skill and intervention. Things that made sense. Unlike her racing pulse. Unlike the fact that she was already mentally rerouting her entire Saturday to end at Sacred Peaks Ranch.

To check the dressing, of course. For professional reasons.

“Damn it,” Emily whispered to her empty truck, and failed completely to suppress a smile.