Page 52 of Keep You Safe
“Lordy,” he groaned. “Don’t push it.”
“What if I want to push it?” I stepped closer to him, crowding him closer to the wicker sofa in the front room.
“Adler…”
“What? There’s no one around, and it’s been a long week already.” I waggled my eyebrows at him. “Maybe we both need a little fun.”
“You keep looking at me like that, and the fun is going to involve my hand and your?—”
Whatever lovely threat Grayson had been about to make was cut off by the trill of his phone.
“Gotta go,” he reported tersely. “Kat’s got a situation at the barn.”
“Okay.” Nothing to do but let him go, same as always. “Good luck.”
The moment lost, I went on with my afternoon chores, keeping busy until dinner time at the bunkhouse. Faith planned to bake a frozen lasagna for the girls, with salad to go alongside, so I felt comfortable joining the bunkhouse crew instead.
However, there was one notable exception as Casey dished up a chicken and rice casserole.
“No Grayson?” I asked carefully.
“Nope.” Casey handed me a bowl with a roll on the side. “First-time mama horse acting broodish, likely because of the snow, but there could be a foal by morning. He said to go on and eat without him and Kat.”
“Maybe I’ll take him some leftovers after we eat.” I made the offer lightly, voice spontaneous and easy, not too eager.
“Better you than me.” Motley gave a snort. “It’s cold enough to freeze your balls off out there.”
“You’re right. Not sure how many inches of snow we’ll get, but the temperature is dropping by the minute,” Casey agreed. “I’ll pack up some food for him and Kat. You can take them some hot coffee too.”
“Will do.” I’d do the same for any friend or coworker, but no one else made my pulse gallop like Grayson. No one else inspired the dueling desires to take care of him and throttle some sense into him. And no one else had my heart.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Grayson
A watched horse seldom cooperated,yet as evening turned into night, I remained near Fern’s stall, eyes unable to look away even as my brain kept returning to the earlier meeting with Adler. I’d been strangely proud of Adler’s managing of the tiny house folks, the confidence with which he’d spoken and the organization of his plans. My pride was at odds with my doubts over his ability to stay. He unquestionably had the talent to see the project through, but my wary heart refused to believe he was cut out for long-term ranch life.
“I brought you some food.” Unsurprisingly, the object of my ruminating showed up slightly past the usual dinner hour with an insulated bag full of plastic containers and a thermos of coffee.
“You didn’t have to do that.” My stomach proved me a liar as it let out a loud rumble at the scent of Casey’s cooking.
“I know.” Adler’s usual cheery grin didn’t reach his concerned eyes. He used a nearby ledge to dish up a generous helping of casserole. “Where’s Kat? I brought enough food for her as well.”
“Getting Jude. We called for him a while ago, but his truck wouldn’t start.” Not entirely unexpected, given the plummetingtemperatures and the age of Jude’s well-loved work truck, but a hiccup nonetheless. Frustration edged my voice. “Kat volunteered to go fetch him while I watch Mama Fern here.”
“Winter seems like the worst time for foaling.” Adler watched Fern paw at the straw in her stall. The horse was in obvious discomfort, with a sweaty coat despite the cool air in the horse barn.
“It’s not ideal. We often aim for March to June, but this maiden went into season ahead of schedule.” At five, Fern was right at the age where we typically bred first-time mares, and despite careful management of all the horses’ fertility, sometimes surprises showed up. “She’s got impeccable bloodlines and eager buyers for any foals, so the decision was made to go ahead with the breeding. Pregnancy has been pretty textbook for a first-time mama, but we were all figuring she had another couple of weeks.”
“Oh no. Is it too early for the foal?” Adler made a distressed noise that made me put down my fork. “There’s no NICU for horse preemies.”
“Predicting gestation is never exact.” I gave Adler a fast pat on the shoulder, giving myself the temporary boost from the contact. Only us here, and it had been a long day in a long week. Like Adler had insinuated earlier, perhaps we were due some play. Continuing to fool around with so much unsaid between us was foolhardy, but Adler continued to steal all my common sense. “Fern will likely be okay, but that’s part of why I want Jude here, in case the mama or baby needs extra attention.”
“Her restlessness means she’s in labor?” Adler watched the horse as I finished my supper. Fern paced in a tight circle, at times looking like she might be considering lying down, while in other moments, looking almost colicky with wide eyes and flared nostrils.
“That and other signs of contractions.” Kat had noticed Fern’s broodish ways a few days ago, but we’d both hoped she’d hold off until the other side of this weather. “Fern has been working at this for most of the day. Always worrisome when labor goes long.”
“You’re worried about a breech?” Adler asked, clearly remembering some of the stories I’d shared as cautionary tales of ranch life.
