Hill Country Reunion

Something she should have guessed. Tripp had never been much of a socializer. If they went out with friends, there would be only one or two other couples. If someone hosted a party, Tripp would steer Diana to the less noisy perimeter, and he was always ready to say their goodbyes long before Diana had run out of conversation.

She gave a mental shrug. One more indication they weren’t right for each other.

“I was teasing about the cat thing,” Doc Ingram said. “Planned on doing this anyway, so I’m more than glad to pay.”

“No, it’s perfectly all right. A deal’s a deal.” Diana tapped the pen against her lips as she considered what to serve. “We can do coffee, doughnuts, minimuffins...and maybe some cranberry punch for the kids.”

“Great. I’ll start getting the word out.” As Doc Ingram took a sip of his coffee, his cell phone chirped. Reading a text, he grimaced. “Horse down with colic at the Hendersons’. Gotta skedaddle. Hate to strand you, Tripp, but the Henderson ranch is clear the opposite direction from the clinic.”

“No problem,” Tripp said. “I’ll find my own way back.”

Halfway to the door, the doc halted and snapped his fingers, a mischievous look curling his lips. “Hey, since your appointment calendar’s clear for the rest of the day, why don’t you hang out here? Y’all can hash out the open house menu together.”

Suddenly nervous, Diana arched a brow. But with only a few customers and Kimberly covering the counter, she didn’t have an obvious reason to excuse herself. She offered Tripp an empathetic smile. “So...an open house, huh?”

He hiked one shoulder. “Like I said, not my idea.”

“It’s a small-town thing. People like to get to know the folks they’re doing business with.”

“That’s one part of this job I already appreciate. People are way more relaxed and friendly than at the Austin clinic I came from.”

Something in Tripp’s tone evoked a pang of concern. “I thought opening your own big-city vet practice had always been your goal.”

“I thought so, too...at first.” His jaw edged sideways. He sat forward as if on the verge of saying more, but then he abruptly stood and picked up his mug. “Think I could trade this for a glass of water?”

“Keep your seat. I’ll get it.” Diana bustled over to the counter and signaled Kimberly.

Handing Diana a glass of ice water, Kimberly wiggled her brows. “Looks like y’all are having a real nice chat over there. Mending some fences?”

Diana hesitated, wondering the same thing herself. Her tone became wistful as she murmured, “Maybe we are.”

* * *

Tripp tried not to stare as Diana sauntered back to the table with his water. Since his first glimpse two Saturdays ago, he couldn’t get enough of looking at her. The way she walked. The way her long, tapered fingers held her horse’s reins or caressed those tiny kittens. The way she flicked a loose strand of hair out of her eyes or tossed her perky ponytail.

She set the glass in front of him, then shifted from foot to foot. “Unless you have more thoughts about Sunday’s menu, I should probably get back to work.”

“Right.” Biting back a smile, Tripp nodded toward the only other two customers in the shop. “I can see you’re super busy right now.”

She rolled her eyes, another endearing gesture he recalled all too well from when they were dating. “Well...I do have a few things to catch up on in the office. I am the owner, after all.”

“Of course, sorry. I’ll just finish up here and be on my way.”

Nodding, Diana started to turn away, then swiveled to face him again. “But how will you get back to the clinic?”

Tripp shrugged. “It’s only a mile or two. I can hoof it.”

Just then, Diana’s blond assistant bustled over. She carried a square white box with a cellophane lid. “Diana, can you run these pastries over to Alan’s insurance office? They’re for his staff meeting in the morning.”

Suspicion clouded Diana’s expression. “But Alan usually comes by early on Wednesday mornings to pick up his order.”

“I know, but he’s always so rushed, and I’ve got this batch fresh out of the oven, so I thought, why not save him the trip?”

Smiling to himself, Tripp watched the play of emotions across Diana’s face—confusion, consternation, then the clear realization that Kimberly was playing her. Arms crossed, Diana glared at her assistant. “And is there some pressing reason you can’t drop them off?”

“I have more muffins in the oven.” Kimberly held the box out to Diana. “You can take Alan his pastries, then give Doc Willoughby a ride to the clinic.”

Talk about obvious! Tripp took another swallow of water and pushed back his chair. “I told you, Diana, I can walk. Don’t put yourself out on my account.”

“Oh, she wouldn’t be,” Kimberly gushed. “This is perfect, Diana. While you’re there, you can visit your kitties.” Winking, she added, “You know you want to.”

Diana chewed her lip. “Well, I would like to see how they’re doing.” Relaxing her stance, she took the box from Kimberly, then glanced uncertainly at Tripp. “You wouldn’t mind?”

He wasn’t particularly happy about being set up, but spending more time with Diana? That he didn’t mind in the least. “You’re welcome to visit anytime.”

Ten minutes later, he waited in Diana’s SUV outside the Alan Glazer Insurance Agency while Diana delivered the pastries.

Returning to the car, she frowned as she climbed in behind the wheel. “That was awkward.”

“Problems?” Tripp asked.

“I had to reassure Alan we weren’t trying to pawn off last weekend’s stale leftovers.” Mouth in a twist, she looked like she blamed Tripp for the awkwardness.

Didn’t she get this was all Kimberly’s doing? Tripp was just an innocent bystander.

Okay, not exactly innocent. Apparently, there was no statute of limitations for breaking someone’s heart. Tripp doubted Diana would have yielded to Kimberly’s ploy if not for the chance of visiting the kittens.

So he’d take what he could get. In the meantime, he’d keep chipping away at the gigantic wall Diana had erected around her heart.

They arrived at the clinic a few minutes later. As Tripp led the way through the rear entrance, the three dogs they were boarding for vacationers started yipping.

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