Nash
The day had dragged, mostly thanks to running on just a couple hours’ sleep. But also, because it was Saturday and I knew Lily was home alone when we could’ve been curled up together, wasting the morning in her bed. The thought of her, wrapped in sunlight and rumpled sheets, made the ache in my chest twist deeper. But there was work to do.
Gunner and I had been up in the high pasture most of the day, keeping an eye on the herd and checking if the new bull had settled in. He was five, a little older than we usually went for, and with bulls that age, there was always a risk. If they didn’t mix, they turned into what we called bachelor bulls. And those sons of bitches were a nightmare come fall. They became solitary, unpredictable, and hell to track down once the first snow hit.
Luckily, this one seemed to be holding steady. Right in the middle of the herd, nosing around like he’d always belonged.
“That cow over there looks like she’s limping,” I said, nodding toward a tan heifer in the center of the group.
Gunner leaned forward in his saddle, squinting against the sun. “You thinking mountain lion?”
I shrugged. “No blood, no bite marks. Might be a sprain or she stepped wrong on some shale. Still...it worries me. If itisthe lion, it means it's desperate. And desperate predators start coming closer.”
Gunner let out a slow breath. “Or worse, feeding cubs. We don’t need a whole damn family picking off calves.”
We sat quiet, watching her. The cow shifted her weight, stepped tentatively, then moved without much trouble. Whatever it was, it looked like she'd worked it out.
“Thank fuck,” Gunner said, tipping his hat back and wiping his brow with his forearm. “Aside from a dead cow, I don’t wanna hand the vet another check this month.”
I chuckled. “We’re not broke, Gun.”
“Doesn’t matter. With Dad threatening to sell the place, I’d rather not give him another excuse to pull the trigger.”
He wasn’t wrong.
The bull made a half-hearted attempt at a cow, lumbering forward with all the grace of a drunk bison. She trotted off and he didn’t even try to follow. Lost interest as quickly as he’d found it.
I let out a breath, but Gunner snorted. “Don’t doubt him, Nash. That boy will give us calves. Trust me.” He turned that familiar stare on me, the one that saw more than I ever wanted him to. “Speaking of pregnancy…how was your night?”
I barked out a laugh. “Good. But nothing like that happened.” I half lied, seeing as I’d made Lily come on my fingers. “We mostly talked. About... stuff.”
“‘Stuff,’ huh?” He smirked. “Like rings and babies? And don’t bullshit me, you’ve had that look on your face all day. That goofy-ass smile and that little furrow in your brow. Joy and panic. You’re in it deep.”
He wasn’t wrong about that either.
“We should get back down,” I said, nudging my horse forward. “Help Wilder and the guys with the haymaking.”
“Nice deflection.” Gunner wheeled his horse around to block me. “But you’re not off the hook, big brother. You’ve pined for Lily Jones for ten years. And now she’s back and there’s sleepovers and family dinners?” He circled a finger in the air. “I know that look.”
I took off my hat and fanned myself. The storm had only cooled the air for a few hours immediately after it and Gunner’s stare wasn’t helping. He always could see straight through me.
“There are things we need to talk about. That’s why Lily’s coming to dinner.”
Gunner’s brow lifted. “Serious things?”
“Yeah.”
“She’s not pregnant already, is she?” His smirk was pure mischief. “Because you do have a history.”
I leveled him a look. “Lily’s not Loretta. Don’t disrespect her like that.”
He held up a hand. “Alright, alright. No offense meant.”
“Good,” I said, tugging my hat low. “Lily being pregnant isn’t one of the things we need to talk about. Not even I workthatfast.”
He chuckled. “Doesn’t mean she isn’t.”
Strangely...the thought didn’t send me into a tailspin.