Page 18 of Home Hearts Hooves

“It’s fine. It’s breathing, just tookita second.”

Daisy sits and continues to clean her calf.

“Move back, let’s see how she does,” I say, and I move out of the stall with Dean into anothertwo up, and we watch through the rails as Daisy goes into full mama mode, licking him clean and nuzzling as she moos over him.

It’s amazing, the connection a mother has with her young. I think of Isabel, and that first trip home when I was in college, seeing her pushing a stroller down the street with a guy I assumed was her husband. I didn’t think to ask about her, her life, or her child. If I had, would I have suspected that the child she pushed along the street was mine? It can’t have been. She would have told me. She would have said something. I’ve only seen Isabel in passing since I moved home, she lives out on her parents’ farm, and it’s the furthest one from town, they grow a wide variety of fruits and vegetables, and don’t have much need to come to town often, or at all, plus with no livestock on the farm, they have no need to call on the local vet either. I sometimes see Isabel’s mama dropping produce at the market, but she never says hello. I figured it was because of how it ended with Isabel and me, but could it be because Isabel had my childanddid she tell her parents I abandoned her? Do they think I know and just left? No. She wouldn’t have done that. She couldn’t have.

Dean breathes heavily beside me; his gaze moves from Daisy and her new bull calf to meandhis worried expression is replaced by a wide smile that makes his dark eyes sparkle like there’s a galaxy hidden within them. I can almost taste his sweet woody scent on the tip of my tongue as the wind rattles the walls of the barn and whistles through the gaps in the siding. He shiftsandhis hand brushes against mine, sending a shiverthroughme.

“Thank you,” he says, but before I can replythunderbooms, Daisy moos, and I jump like I’ve beenbitby a rattlesnake.

“You okay, Doc?” he asks. I love hearing him call me that, and it somewhat distracts me from my spiraling thoughts of Isabel and the child with chestnut brown hair.

“I’d be better if that storm was headed the other direction,” I tell him, and I’m thankful he doesn’t laugh.

“This one is supposed to be huge; I’m surprised you came out.”

“I was too busy today to check the weather,to checkhow large the cell was.When I got here, it was already on top of us.”

“Well, it’s lucky for us that you did because I haven’t pulled a calf in years. Bet Daisy is happy you were here, too.”

“Thanks. We should probably head up to the house and wait out the storm there,” I say, sliding the barn door open just a little, but a huge gust of frigid air and rain whips me in the face, and I shove it closed again. “Okay, so maybe we’ll stay here for a while.”

“I’ve got a wash station set up for the guests when they are out here cuddling cows. We can clean up at least.”

“Probably a good idea,” I sayandfollow him to the back of the mini barn. I strip off my shift and wash off my arms with soap and water. It’s a good thing I took off my jacket before. I turn to go grab itbutfind Dean right behind me.

“I… sorry,” he says, holding out my jacket. “I thought you might need this.”

“Thanks,” I reply, slipping it on and zipping up the front. I’m careful when I do, because I’m a pretty hairy guy and have caught my chest hair in a zip before. It’s not fun.

I look up to find Dean still watching me, and he blushes, then turns away. Was he checking me out? I can’t say I’d mind. Every time I breathe him in, I wonder if he tastes as good as he smells. And now that’s all I can think of.

“Thanks, for, umm, for helping,” Dean says. The wind rattles the roof, howling like a wolf outside the door.

“You thanked me already,” I say, turning toward the sound of the storm shaking the side of the barn now.

“Come relax a bit, Doc, we’ll be here a while,” Dean says, and I’m reminded by the swirl in my stomach how much I love him calling me Doc. I follow him to a clean stall they have just set up, ready for tomorrow’s cuddle sessions.

He leans on the barn wall, one ankle crossed over the other, large arms folded against his chest. I stand beside him, close like we were on that log all those years ago, close enough to rest my thigh against his. The smell of hay and rain and sweat and his woody sweetness encases me, and I try to focus on that instead of the noises outside, but then thunder booms, and I clutch at his arm instinctively.

“Sorry,” I say, pulling my hand back.

“So you’rereallynot a fan of storms.”

“It’s the getting struck by lightning or carried away by a tornado that I’m not a huge fan of.”

“Well, Dorothy, rest assuredthisbarn is fixed down pretty tight. You’ll be okay. You’ll get through this.”

“I was thinking about the last time I was freaking out and you said those words to me, you were right then, too.”

His brow pinches a little in the middle.

“You know, senior year, after Isabel broke it off… the bonfire.”

“Right,” he says, slightly nodding his head, all the while his eyes locked on mine.

I remember that night so clearly, even though I was drunk and upset. I remember he was sweet. He sat with me and told me it would all work out, that I’d be okay, and he put his hand on my knee, patting it, and I remember turning and looking into those brilliant dark eyes, breathing in his sweet scent, and thinking, I wonder if he tastes as good as he smells. It was the first time I’d ever thought about kissing a guy. I guess that’s why the memory stuckforme. I can’t really expect it to have had the same impact on him.

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