Join the club, guys.
Tanna’s surprised gaze hooked his as he took the empty chair right next to her, causing a little hiccup in her conversation with Max. Then she was back to telling whatever story required her hand gestures and beautiful smile.
She finally acknowledged him. “Dr. Fletcher.”
“I know I told you to call me Fletch, darlin’. No need for formal titles between us, is there, Miz Two-Time World Barrel Racing Champion?”
She cooed, “Would it be bitchy of me to point out I’ve won three world titles?”
“I stand corrected.” He lifted an eyebrow. “You gonna make me pay for that oversight?”
Tanna laughed. “Of course. I like seeing a big man squirm.”
Goddamn, she had a laugh that pulled him in, a carefree sound that was sexy as sin.
Max gave him a once-over. “I see you’re still wearing your barnyard clothes. Finish your last call late?”
Leave it to Max to point out Fletch’s less than stellar appearance. “Yeah. If you sat a little closer you could get a whiff of barnyard. Welcome to my world.” His eyes met Tanna’s. His job was messy and smelly. No reason to pretend it wasn’t. Most days he fared a helluva lot worse than this. Question was: would she balk and move away?
“All’s well in the world of veterinary medicine?” Ike asked.
“I’m busy as all get-out—not that I’m complaining. But I didn’t get home before ten o’clock a single night this week. Those five a.m. starts make for a really long day.”
Tanna blinked at him. Hopefully she understood he’d directed that answer at her. Pushing her to have coffee with him and then not contacting her this week . . . not cool.
“How long have you guys been here?” he asked Ike.
“An hour and a half. Ran into this lovely lady right after we arrived. She was sitting all by herself up at the bar.”
Fletch kept his focus on her. “Getting wild on a Friday night?”
“No. I’m on clothing store duty tomorrow and I’ve been warned that Saturdays are busy,” Tanna said.
“No wildness for me either,” Holt said. “I’ve got a roofing job to finish tomorrow. Which means I’ll be up at the ass crack of dawn before it gets too damn hot.”
“I assume you’re on animal patrol even on weekends?” Tanna asked Fletch.
“Most Saturdays are busy. Was kind of a fluke last weekend that I didn’t get called away after the branding.”
“You get called away on Saturdays and Sundays, sometimes night and day,” Ike scoffed. “I can’t remember the last time you talked about having a full day off. He’s a regular workaholic,” he added to Tanna.
Fletch felt his face heat. Was it his imagination, or were his friends trying to make him out to be the type of guy who preferred four-legged animals to the two-legged variety? He opened his mouth to protest, but Tanna beat him to the punch.
“You must love your job if you work that hard at it,” Tanna said. “Your clients are lucky you’re so dedicated.”
“Fletch wouldn’t know what to do with himself if he wasn’t working,” Holt said.
“That’s not true. I just have to prioritize who I want to spend time with when I do get a break—which didn’t happen at all this week, unfortunately.”
“So we should consider ourselves lucky that you graced us with your presence,” Ike joked.
“I consider myself lucky that you guys haven’t written me off as a lost cause when I’m so lousy at keeping in touch.” His eyes never wavered from hers.
Tanna’s gaze turned thoughtful but she didn’t speak.
That’s when Fletch noticed her eyes were brown tonight. Not gray like the last two times they’d met. Interesting little quirk, that she changed her eye color.
The music kicked up a notch and Max held out his hand to Tanna. “You promised me a dance.”
She tore her gaze from Fletch’s and stood abruptly. “So I did. Let’s hit it.”
Three pairs of eyes followed the couple to the dance floor. Fletch’s fist tightened on his beer can when he saw just how close Max pressed his body to Tanna’s right off the bat.
“So that’s how it is,” Ike said.
“What?” Fletch answered distractedly, keeping his focus on the too-close couple on the too-crowded dance floor.
“You. And her.”
Fletch offered a halfhearted shrug.
“Don’t give me that bullshit innocent act after how you were when you first sat down.”
“And how was that?”
Holt leaned forward, snagging his attention. “Like you wanted to crack our skulls together for even lookin’ at her. And she gave off the vibe that she’d like nothin’ better than for you to bend her over the table.”
Fletch choked on his beer. Then he looked at Ike, who nodded agreement with Holt’s comment. What the hell? How had these guys picked up on that?
Because you’re usually the most laid-back guy in the room and tonight . . . you’re not.
Ike sighed. “Why does this always happen? You get there first. I really like her.”
So do I.
“What’s goin’ on between you two?”
“We’re just friends,” Fletch said with a slight snarl.
Ike’s eyes narrowed. “Her choice? Or yours?”
“Let it be,” Holt warned Ike.