2
ABBYI stopped in my tracks when I saw the horse-drawn cart parked outside the practice. It didn't look like one of the romantic wedding carriages that sometimes drove through the centre of town. This was something you would have found at a farm a hundred years ago. I'd cared for horses before, but most farmers and riders used specialist vets, so it was unusual for a horse to stand in front of my house.
I looked around for the owner, but the street was empty. Maybe they weren't here to see me after all.
Sahra confidently headed to the cart and climbed on the driver's seat. It was hers. Bloody hell. This woman was becoming more and more intriguing by the minute.
She held out a hand to help me up. When our fingers touched, a strange zing of electricity shot up my arm. I rubbed my hand,
