Page 32 of For Fillies and Monsters

Fuck that, you’d have to beblind and deafto not notice it. Even then, I think I would know he is sinfully attractive. The way he carries himself, the way he dominates the space, commands attention. Yeah, I understand where she is coming from—I’ve been an animal in heat all day for him.

But jealousy, hot and acidic spills into the back of my throatand I fight the urge to gag. Twice in one week I’ve been jealous because of an imaginary scenario, and I hate it. Dale doesn’t deserve that kind of friend.

I have no right or claim to him, hell I’m pretty sure he hates me. But I like when a man hates me—punishes me—and his obvious dislike only makes me want him more.

Even though I know I shouldn’t.

ELEVEN

STETSON

March 30th, 2024

I’m hot,exhausted, and emotionally wrung out. Calf shit speckles my neck and between the valley of my small breasts. Which is still a mystery, since I’ve been wearing a button-down shirt secured clear to the collar.

I jog around the outside of the alley to check on how Dale is doing with the vaccinations. We haven’t been at it that long, and I don’t have that many heifers in the herd. But I feel helpless all the same. Dale is administering vaccines, Nathan—either by his own surprising will or threatened by Gus—has stepped in to help run the shoot, and Gus is in the alley pushing calves. When we started, Gus nearly bit off my head as I climbed into the alley to start pushing them myself. Even now, with sweat coursing down the ringlets of black hair plastered to either side of his face, he bares his teeth at me if I even get close.

Which is ridiculously hot. But I’m over it; I’m no longer letting my mind or body fall for it.

Clearly.

With all the racing back and forth to check that everyone has what they need for vaccinating to go smoothly, I’ve worn a path into the dusty ground. I sag, frustration and helplessnesscontorting my body, and stomp toward Dale and her array of vials and needles.

“Dale, I want to take over for a bit. Go get some water.” It’s the fifth time I’ve offered since we started less than an hour ago.Maybe this time she will get annoyed and finally give up.

Dale’s face is covered in a heavy sheen of sweat, her hair curling at the nape of her neck. She looks up at me, the cowboy hat shading her eyes. Even with the shadow, I see the mischief sparkling in them and I squirm.

“Not very good at having help, are you, Stet?” Dale teases while drawing the handle back on the syringe, filling it with a white liquid. I huff, dragging my foot through the sand in an arch in front of me. Understatement of the year—my tombstone will read:Stetson, the girl who did everything herself.

“I’ve never had anyone, Dale. Not really. I’ve always had to take care of myself.” It’s true, and I don’t spend time being sad about it anymore.

It’s just how my life shook out—no point in crying over spilled milk.

A gate slams behind me with a crash, and I yelp, the sound mixing with the bawling calves. I turn around just in time to see Gus stomping off, his back hunched over. The curve of his shoulders makes his already too-small, sweat-drenched shirt cling to his back in a way that is more provocative than it should be. I can see the cords of muscle bunch and flex with each stomping step, the shirt darker where sweat is no doubt running through chiseled crevices of flesh, down toward dirty faded jeans. Jeans that hug against the curve of his ass, and crease beneath each cheek, making them look rounder and firmer than any ass has a right to be.

It has to be fake. There’s no way an ass like that is real.

I absently flex my fingers, picturing what it would be like to run them along his back and over the rounded curve of hischeeks. It’s getting hotter out here; that’s why I’m drenched in sweat and my skin feels on fire—obviously.

“You dirty bitch. I’m over here working my ass off, and you’re drooling over the newly hired hand.”

I snap my jaw shut, not sure when it swung open, and pin Dale with a glare. “I fucking offered.”

“Maybe I’m not the one you should be offering to,” Dale teases, resuming her work with a grin.

I roll my eyes, huffing. The double meaning isn’t lost on me, but I refuse to give in. I won’t. And I need to nip this in the butt—I shudder at the image ofactually‘nipping him in the butt’ playing over in my mind—before it gets even more out of hand.

Not only is he my employee, whether I want it or not, and yes, I know lines like that get crossed all the time, but he is also the grouchiest man I have ever met. And I have meta lot.He’s hated me and made it known at every turn.Why?Good question. But I’m not going to waste time asking him, when I know the only answer I will get is a growly sounding huff that will do more to make my panties wet than ease my nerves. And most importantly, even though I know I will have to continue to remind myself,he is a cowboy—a grouchy, aggressive, roughneck cowboy. Just like Gibson.

But also not.

He sure seems like him at every turn, but then he will speak to Boots, his mare, I finally learned, and I can see a flash of kindness and compassion. A flash of humanity and love.

And Gibson possessed zero of those qualities.

“I thought you wanted him.” I hope I sound more teasing than I feel. I know I did a horrible job when Dale turns to me, a feral smile on her face.

“Jealous, much? You haven’t even seen his cock yet. Maybe you won’t like it.” Dale steps closer, ever the conspirator,lowering her voice to a whisper. “Or maybe it’s big enough for the both of us.”

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