Page 3 of Brands

“You tell me what you need, I’ll be there. We’ll make sure you’re around for the long haul. Grandbabies and all that.” I smile, tipping my empty bottle towards him in a half-hearted toast.

“Whew.” He lets out a low whistle. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I’d rather it be Devon before Libby.” His eyes get misty. “I mean, that’s my baby girl.” He shakes his head at me. “You might get it one day, when you have a daughter of your own. You want to protect them like there’s no tomorrow.”

I snort as I wave Val down. “Me and kids are a long ways off. Might not even be in my cards, Clay. I think I’ve hit the age where they call me a ‘confirmed bachelor’.” I wryly hold up my new beer.

He shrugs. “As long as your pecker still works, there’s a chance. Old bulls still settle. Mine’s only good for—” He peers at his worn watch on his wrist. “—about a month. Then I’m a steer for life.”

It makes my nuts shrivel to think about it.

Only a few more weeks and I’ll be spending all my free time at his ranch cataloging cows. He probably wants to transfer all their dairy records too. That could take a while.

There’s just one thing I’m worried about.

What the hell is Libby going to do when she finds out?

Chapter Two

Libby

“Pull your head outof your ass, Devon!” I cannot believe he just hooked up that bay before cleaning that damn udder. “Now you gotta disinfect that whole claw.”

“It’s like rule number one,” I mutter to myself.

Always gotta clean the shit off the bags before the machine goes on.

“I’m hungry,” he whines, whipping his head hard enough to toss his long hair out of his eyes. “It’s Thanksgiving. We should get a day off.” He might be protesting, but at least he disconnects the lead like he’s supposed to and sets it aside.

“I promise that the Duggar’s are saving a huge plate for you.” I’m starving too. But I’m heading to the McCullough’s for dinner.

Char has brought me along on her crazy journey to join their family, and now they practically accept me as one of their own.

I toss a fresh towel at him and it wraps across his shoulder. “But you aren’t going to get there any faster by cuttingcorners. One day you might be in charge of all of this. We need to do it right, each and every time.”

I never thought I’d be the one teaching my little brother how to run the dairy.

But since Mom died a few years ago, and Dad has been gone more often than not lately, it seems to sit heavier on me.

It’s overwhelming some days.

“Why isn’t the rest of the crew here? We’d be done faster.” Devon finishes wiping down the next cow and attaches the clean equipment.

Just like he’s supposed to.

“Because it’s Thanksgiving. Duh.” I roll my eyes at him. “These are the perks of ownership. It’s our name on the board outside.”

My muscles ache though. I can feel the weary in my bones and it’s barely nine in the morning. I’m too young to be this tired.

And to think in two weeks I’ll turn twenty-one.

“This sucks. I’m on vacation from school, why not here?” Devon finishes milking his last cow and begins to wipe everything down.

“Because we can’t skip a day. It’s one of the trade-offs. At least tomorrow Jeb and Darla will be back to give us a break.” I can’t wait. I’m going to sleep in like crazy.

Maybe I can bring a huge plate of leftovers home, too. Then I won’t even have to cook.

Devon grabs the hose to finish spraying the stalls down.

He doesn’t need my help for that part.

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