Page 8 of Auctioned to the Cowboy

Over the last week, I’ve caught glimpses of her doing more than her fair share around here, never once complaining. Whether it’s scrubbing clean the mess my brothers leave in their wake or dishing up hearty meals that have us all licking our plates clean, she’s done it all with a smile that could brighten the darkest shadows. I even like the little hints of how close Christmas is that keep popping up around the house, like the pumpkin pie-scented candle in the kitchen and the red-and-green floral arrangement that now adorns the dining room table.

The corners of my mouth inch upward into a rare smile as we head toward the stables, the sun dipping lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the land. I shake my head and follow her. Shay’s sunshine is contagious enough to reach even the most stubborn of grumpy hearts.

I kick a stray pebble on the path, watching it skitter across the frozen ground. It’s a futile attempt to distract myself from what I’m feeling—what I shouldn’t be feeling. This whole marriage thing, it’s paperwork, a means to an end. But there goes Shay, laughing that laugh that echoes off the barn walls and straight into places I thought were boarded up good and tight.

“Damn it,” I mutter under my breath, shoving hands that suddenly feel too big and clumsy into my pockets. I convinced myself those parts of me were dead and buried, not simply sleeping, waiting for someone like her to wake them up.

“Hey, Henry!” Angus’s shout cuts across the yard, his eyes on a runaway calf. “Give us a hand?”

“Sure thing.” I stride over, trying to ignore Shay’s presence, but it’s like trying to ignore the sun in the desert sky.

She stands there, hunched over, arms out, with a determination that’s both comical and impressive. Her green eyes are fixed on the calf, all business now, and I can’t help but admire how she’s thrown herself into ranch life like she was made for it.

“All right, little guy, time to head back home,” she coos at the calf, her voice soothing and commanding.

“Never seen anyone talk to livestock quite like you do,” I remark, keeping my tone light, though the sight of her so at ease here tugs at something deep inside me.

“Animals are easy to talk to—they don’t talk back,” she shoots back with a grin.

I find myself smiling despite myself. “Guess that makes two of us who prefer non-human company,” I say, moving closer to her.

Our fingers brush, and a jolt of warmth spreads up my arm. I quickly look away, focusing on the calf, which seems to have accepted its fate and plods along ahead of us.

“Think you’re getting the hang of this, Shay,” I say, nodding toward the cooperative animal.

“I guess I’ve got the ranching bug,” she replies, and the way she says it, I swear she’s not just talking about cow wrangling.

As I’m about to agree, the calf, clearly sensing its moment of freedom slipping away, decides to throw a wrench—or rather, a hoof—into Shay’s newfound ranching confidence. With a sudden burst of energy, the little troublemaker jerks sideways, its back legs kicking out in an awkward hop that sends it straight into Shay.

The impact isn’t much, just enough to knock her off balance. She lets out a surprised yelp, arms flailing as she topples backward into a patch of straw. Before she can regain her footing, the calf—ever the opportunist—pounces on the opening to cause mayhem. It lunges forward, its oversized tongue flopping out like a slobbery weapon of affection as it licks her face with unrestrained enthusiasm.

“Ah! No! Stop!” Shay laughs, trying to fend off the calf’s assault as it licks her cheek and chin, even managing to nudge her nose. “Henry, help! This isn’t how ranching is supposed to work!”

I can’t stop the laughter that bursts out of me, a deep rumble I haven’t heard in years. It’s downright comical, the way she’s pinned under the calf’s not-so-imposing bulk, her hands flailing as she tries to push its big, slobbery head away. Taking this as a sign that Shay is now part of their pack, the dogs join in, barking and wagging their tails as if cheering on the calf.

“Hold still, Shay,” I manage between chuckles, though I make no move to intervene yet. The sight is too good to pass up. Her red hair is tangled with bits of straw, her face streaked with calf slobber, but she’s laughing, her eyes bright with exasperated amusement.

“You’re just going to stand there?” she gasps, her laughter mingling with the sounds of the increasingly chaotic barnyard scene.

“Thought you had it handled,” I tease, finally stepping forward to grab the calf’s halter. With a firm tug, I pull the little troublemaker off her. The calf huffs in protest but reluctantly follows my lead, giving Shay one last swipe of its tongue as if to say goodbye.

Shay sits up, wiping her face with her sleeve and glaring at me, though the effect is ruined by the grin tugging at her lips. “I hope you’re enjoying yourself.”

“Oh, I am,” I say, offering her a hand to pull her to her feet. “That was the best entertainment I’ve had in years.”

She takes my hand, and as I haul her upright, her green eyes narrow at me in mock warning. “Just wait, Henry Sutton. Payback is coming.”

“Is that a promise?” I quip, still grinning as I pluck a piece of straw from her hair.

Her gaze softens, and she lets out a breathless laugh. “Absolutely,” she says, brushing off her jeans and straightening her shirt with as much dignity as someone covered in calf slobber and straw can manage.

Shay steps closer, her green eyes locking onto mine with a look that makes me forget how to breathe. There’s no teasing now, no mock threats of payback—just her, with that spark that could probably light up the whole damn barn and maybe half the ranch.

“You know,” she says, her voice quieter now, “for someone who claims to prefer non-human company, you’re not half bad at saving the day.”

“Someone had to rescue you from your slobbery admirer,” I reply, unable to keep the grin from tugging at my lips. “Pretty sure the calf was planning to propose.”

Her laughter bubbles up, bright and musical, but this time, it fades quickly, replaced by something warmer, softer. “Guess that makes you my knight in shining… cowboy boots?”

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