Darcy turned and ran for her truck, her heart pounding because of Jackson’s permission to treat the mare. She was thrilled to have won this battle, not only for the sake of the mare and foal, but also for the challenge of saving them. God willing, the struggle might take over her mind completely and let her forget about everything else.
Her heart was not beating so hard from the powerful way Jackson had looked at her. Yet she could still feel his gaze moving over her in that very assessing kind of look.
Well, if he’d been trying to judge whether she would respond to him as a man, she could tell him right now that she was not interested. Not in any man.
Despite that surprising, insane urge she’d felt— the desire to touch his face and brush his hair that had come over her when his eyes met hers?
Her little voice of truth wouldn’t let her get by with anything.
She punched in the handle of her equipment box and twisted it, then threw up the lid. A horse’s life, no, two of them, depended on her right now, and she needed to get her mind on her business.
Automatically, her hands flew to the necessary compartments and began to make selections. First, the IV catheter, needle holders, suture, cordless clippers and a handful of Betadine solution packets, gauze sponges and a bottle of alcohol. Then both her hands were full. She’d have to come back for the antibiotic injection and the bag of fluids.
No. Good heavens, she couldn’t even think straight! Everything would go much faster if they brought the mare to the truck.
Tara’s hooves scrabbled against the pavement. Darcy heard Jackson kiss to her in encouragement, and when she glanced over her shoulder, the mare was regaining her feet.
“Bring her over here,” Darcy called. “I want to get a dose of antibiotic in her and start some fluids before we walk her home.”
He frowned.
“You’re the one saying she’ll foal any minute,” he said, leading Tara toward her. “Can’t it wait until we get her to the barn?”