Dr. Wentworth unlocked the door to his office. “It’s the insight of a vet that makes a practice thrive, not the age of your exam table.” It was pointless to allow Doc to show him the practice. Gage didn’t plan on staying in Harmony Valley for two more days, much less two more months. An image of Shelby a few minutes earlier rankled him—her arms were crossed, expression barnacled at the sight of the apartment above the bridal shop. She’d looked so determined to be unhappy. He’d wanted to shake her, to embrace her, to kiss her unhappiness away. Dangerous thought, that. Her lack of friendship and easy forgiveness was harder to take than he’d anticipated. So much for being the unflappable horse-whispering vet. Dr. Wentworth flipped the wall switch off and on, squinting expectantly at the non-working light fixture in the lobby ceiling. “We’ll need to get the electricity turned on.
