Page 72 of Buckin' Around

“Hello, welcome to Silver Elite Stables. How has your day been?”

I track my attention back to her after glancing around the foyer of dreams. Imagine if my someday clinic could have a lavish area like this to welcome animals and their owners.

“Ah, hi.” I close in on the white reception counter. “I’m here to collect Ivy.”

“Yes, Mr. Lockwood mentioned you would be here.” She glances her smart watch, also white. “Forty minutes ago.”

Feck.

“Sorry I’m late, traffic was?—”

“Come with me, I’ll take you out to the barn.”

She’s walking down the corridor off the side of reception, and I almost lose her as she disappears. Jogging after her, I clutch my keys and phone in one hand.

“I am really sorry for being late,” I offer.

She glances back, a smile on her face that doesn’t meet her eyes. Her dark ponytail swishes side to side over the white uniform. Her steps are snappy and quick.

Okay... so shiny and pretty doesn’t equate to friendly or happy. Got it.

She pushes through a door, and we spill out into the sunlight a beat later. Wasting no time, she walks me to the furthest big white barns. As we get closer, I can hear voices.

“Wait here. I will let Mr. Lockwood know you have arrived.”

She points to a spot by the open barn door, waiting for me to in fact stop before she turns and heads inside.

I peer around the doorjamb to find everyone has found a bale or mounting stool to sit on. Spencer sits on a bale, hand by his sides as he listens and his staff members talk. He looks?—

Ivy sits on his lap, his other hand holding her close. She sucks her little fist as he nods, his attention solely on his staff. A half smile tips up one side of my mouth. Spencer is good with people.

His staff continue to talk about stable members, and from what I can gather, this meeting is about their inappropriate behavior and shortcomings.

Hell.

After ten minutes, the conversation dies down, and Spencer invites anyone to bring up any other issues via email if they don’t feel comfortable voicing it in front of everyone.

A young guy in a cap gives him a nod as they break away.

I roll back onto the wall in time for the first of the staff to exit the building. The woman from the reception walks out with them, only offering me a shallow smile.

Okay . . .

“You can come in, O’Malley,” Spencer calls.

Heat flushes my face. I feel like a kid caught stealing from the cookie jar.

“Hey,” I mutter, crossing the hay-littered barn to where he stands rocking Ivy.

When I stop, looking up at them both, his smile is sad.

“What happened?” My brows fall.

“My father dropped in. That was my last meeting. I’m done with the family business and all that entails, effective immediately.”

“What the hell?” Heat coils in my gut, spreading through my veins.

“There was a situation this morning with a patron. Instead of letting it slide, I kicked her off the premises. And because of a backstory you don’t want to know about, she escalated it. Which got me fired. Not before I terminated her membership, though.”