Page 12 of Forget That Guy
I’d chosen the job with Boone despite the knowledge that I would be running into the one man that made me want to bash my head into the wall more often than not. Not to mention, I’d have to go out to his farm and play doctor to his livestock when the need arose.
And, apparently, the need arose today.
Fuck.
I looked at the call-outs and groaned.
Two for a farm just outside of Sawtooth, and one in Bear Pass.
Bear Pass being where I used to live. Where Denver now owned half the county land-wise.
Where I would be expected to go today to attend to a couple of sick cattle.
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I’d successfully avoided him for the last few months.
I’d seen him once since he’d kicked me out of my house while at work. That’d been where I told him that he was to call me Holly and not Georgina. He’d given me shit about the name change, and Boone’s new wife, Nettie, had told him that he needed to respect me and what I wanted to be called.
Which was funny, seeing as Sinclair wanted to be called Denver and Denver only.
He hated the name Sinclair—or so I’d heard through the Sawtooth gossip mill.
After that conversation with Nettie had happened, I’d made the switch in my brain to calling him Denver. Because she was right, if someone asked to be called something else, you should respect that.
Him going by Denver made him more impersonal to me, anyway. Made him become the man that’d stolen my hopes and dreams from me, not the one that’d helped my dad up off the floor after he’d fallen going to the bathroom.
The man that was the president of the Dixie Wardens MC, and not the nice neighbor that helped my dad out any time he needed it.
“You ready to go?” Young, one of the vet techs, asked.
“Almost,” I lied. “Give me a few to gather my bags and things.”
“Already got everything but you, girl.” Young mimed polishing his nails.
I liked Young a lot.
He was sweet and kind, gay as hell, and loved animals.
He was flamboyant and kind-hearted, and never missed a beat to make Denver uncomfortable.
I enjoyed hearing him needle the man.
Though he wasn’t doing it to be unkind.
He was doing it because he got supreme satisfaction out of making a man as hot and powerful as Denver uncomfortable.
I hopped in the truck with Young driving and told him where we were going first.
The first place we stopped was at the Dowry Farm and Petting Zoo to see a camel that wasn’t drinking and was so lethargic it could no longer stand.
Once we got him fixed up with some electrolytes and an eating regimen, we moved to the two bison that’d been attacked by some wolves overnight.
We, unfortunately, had to put both of them down.
By the time that we’d left that appointment, I was mad as hell.
