Page 11 of Till The Cows Come Home
“You did it!” Miles cheered, spinning me around. His hands had interlocked around my body, creating a makeshift shelf under my ass as he swung me around and around the stall.
“Yes, we did it, now let me down you big brute.” I scowled, kicking my feet, and as if reality instantly seeped into his brain, his feet became concrete, stopping him in his tracks. My body swayed in his arms, dispersing the energy from the sudden change in momentum, and only once I’d settled, did he allow my body to glide down his own. I knew this was his way of gingerly releasing me, but I couldn’t help but notice every spot our bodies connected, my inner biology betraying my mind.
He immediately pulled back to take in my expression, shocked by his own actions, and as my feet touched theground, I silently celebrated when my knees didn’t buckle. Had they failed me, it would have been a clear giveaway of the frustrating effect he had on me.
“Sorry,” he said, clasping the back of his neck with both hands.
“It’s fine,” was all I managed to respond, feigning indifference, but I could feel the heat in my face creeping from my cheeks to the tips of my ears.
He grabbed a clipboard from the messy workspace; I assumed to keep his nervous hands busy, and turned to the newest calf, who was now standing for the first time.
“Looks like she's a heifer, and it’s only fair you name her, seeing as how she wouldn’t be here without you. Her family is florals.”
I chuckled at the familiarity.
“I know Buttercup's family theme because I happened to be the one who created it.”
He shook his head.
“Eventually I’ll stop forgetting you’retheQueen Baker.”
All I could do was roll my eyes. A lot of farms had similar procedures when it came to nomenclature, each lineage adopting a theme. It could be food, flowers, countries, the names of your worst enemies, but whatever was established lasted until the bloodline ended. When we operated, I took pride in my chaotic names. Something about screaming for a cow named Spam just made four in the morning easier for a teenager.
After a few moments of looking at her, I turned to Miles, who stood patiently waiting.
“Blossom.”
“Great choice.” Miles smiled.
He stepped towards me to deposit the clipboard on the counter, and I slid back, careful to remain out of reach. I tried not to think about the hurt thatflickered across his face, knowing my mind had a million thoughts that needed to be sorted before I let him get that close again.
“I really should get going,” I mumbled.
“You could come check on the baby tomorrow if you want,” he said, and I could hear the underlying question that laced the invite.
Did our truce extend beyond the night?
“We’ll see, lumberjack.”
I knew better than to commit to anything while my emotions were knotted to high hell, but from what I saw, I was beginning to think Miles Carver might not be so bad.
Chapter Seven
Miles
Sage left and I immediately lowered the mask I’d donned, revealing the simmering mortification underneath. I hadn’t expected her to be such a beacon of compassion, and the light she’d emitted pulled me in, clouding my vision. Kindness was momentarily mistaken for connection, and for a second I forgot we were supposed to be enemies…well that I was her enemy, anyway. I didn’t intend to complicate the already awkward association we had, but everything about tonight had my mind swirling, from her calming voice to the way the softness of her hips felt beneath my hands.
Enough.
Sage Baker was off limits.
Unless she wasn’t…
I turned my attention to Blossom in an attempt to distract myself from the bad ideas that were already formulating. She was an absolute fluff ball now that her hair had dried, and couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face. She’d stood from where she’d been nestled and approached me on wobbly legs, cocking her head with curiosity as I clicked my tongue at her. Little did she know, now that she was stable and dry, itwas time to tag her ear, and although it allowed me to tell her apart from all the other cows, I hated doing it. Her birth was branded as a permanent memory in my brain, but to the outside world, she was just another calf, and losing her wasn’t a risk I was willing to take.
If I waited for the perfect moment, I’d procrastinate for an eternity, so I grabbed the applicator, coaxing the unknowing calf towards me. After checking that the tag was properly loaded, I hovered over her, and in between soothing strokes I pulled the trigger, punching the metal between the ribs of Blossom’s ear. I’d attempted to catch her off guard in order to alleviate any unneeded stress, and she surely was surprised. She stepped back from my affection, attempting to locate the betrayal, her expression adorably confused.
“I know, I’m sorry sweetheart. Let me check to make sure it's in there okay and then you can go back to bed.”
