Page 34 of Quinton's Quest

“Yep.” A wide grin. “She does most of the heavy lifting around here.”

I crouched and held out my hand—much as I’d done with Gideon’s Lucky.

She sniffed, then gently swiped her tongue over my knuckles.

I petted her head.

Rainbow laughed softly. “Another friend. She collects them like bones.”

I wasn’t entirely certain that was a compliment, but I chose to see it as such. “I’m Leo.”

“Nice to meet you, Leo. Justin will be ready in just a couple of minutes. Can I offer you something to drink? Coffee, tea, water, juice—”

“Coffee would be great. Do you have decaf?” Probably asking a lot.

“Absolutely. Always do—especially this time of night.”

“I appreciate you seeing me so late.”

She waved me off, then gestured toward the ranch house.

I rose and followed her.

“Each counselor takes a night, and tonight’s Justin’s turn. Kennedy’s my sister, and the genius behind the ranch. She’s off tonight, but you might see her around. We live here.”

“So this is your home as well? How does that work for delineation?”

She laughed. “There’s none. Healing Horses is our vocation. Another time, I’ll take you to meet the horses—Fallon, Briar, Sugar, and Sienna. We do less riding this time of year, but they’re always up to being brushed.” She eyed my suit.

“I own jeans. I swear.”

“That’s good to know. We’re very muchcome as you arearound here.”

We stepped onto a wooden deck, and she led me to a set of sliding-glass doors. She opened one and beckoned me inside.

I entered the space with the dog hard on my heels. I grinned as she did a little dance around me. “She’s enthusiastic.” I gazed around the massive room with soaring beams along the roof of the two-story space. The back wall of windows faced over the riding ring and stables—that were shrouded in darkness given how quickly the light faded this time of year.

Rainbow chuckled. “Tiffany has her moments. Let me take your coat. Oh, don’t worry about your boots. Shall we head to the kitchen?”

Since she’d hung both our coats on pegs, I followed her—and my nose—into the gleaming white kitchen.

“Fresh buns. Have you eaten?” She moved to the coffee maker, selected a pod, and set about making a cup.

“Uh, I came here straight from work. I had a busy day.”

“Let me guess—you didn’t eat lunch.” She arched an eyebrow at me.

“Guilty. I had a surgery that ran long. Complications.”

“Oh dear.”

I shrugged. “The patient should be fine. I’ll call to check in with the nursing staff before I go to bed. And they’ve got my cell number. I’ll be keeping it on during my session…if that’s okay.”

She waved me off as if this wasn’t an issue. “We get all kinds of clients with different needs. If, for you, that means keeping your phone on, that’s fine.”

I wanted to ask what Gideon’s needs had been, but that was way out of line. I’d searched my old emails and discovered I’d recommended Healing Horses to him back in November. Along with another couple of therapists in the Mission City area. At the time, I’d never considered he might go. I’d just…wanted him to get help. Little had I realized that Archer—and Dr. Kennedy Dixon—would have such a profound impact on him.

Or me.