Page 31 of Till The Cows Come Home
“We shall. You wrote down just the name of the calf on about twenty of these registrations. If I give you the name, could you tell me the parents? Then I can go back through and look up their numbers to fill out the missinginformation.”
“I can. I use a different bull every quarter, so that should make that part easy, just have to match the birthday to the bull.”
After about two hours we finished filling out all the registrations, and although there was some doubt throughout the process, we did it. As I struggled to seal the overfilled envelope, bursting at the seams with our day's work, Miles rummaged through drawers to round up stamps.
“Got ‘em,” he said, slinking back into the chair next to me, and as I turned to receive them, my face almost smacked into his. Our eyes met, and after a moment he whispered softly, “I really owe you.”
“About that.” I smiled slyly. “What do you think about coming to Wednesday dinner with me?”
Chapter Fifteen
Miles
“Wednesday dinner?” I questioned, knowing the answer didn’t really matter.
If Sage wanted me somewhere, against my better judgment, I’d be there. We’d made a line in the sand, declaring professionalism, and in essentially the same moment we stepped over it, muddling business and pleasure. I was in no rush to return to the proper side, and so I was humoring dinner with the parents of a woman I hadn’t even taken on a proper date. No additional details required.
“My parents make dinner every Wednesday and I’ve spent the last three years avoiding them, but after the last market, my father successfully guilted me into attendance.”
“Don’t your parents think you’re wiggling your way into my life for your own personal gain?” I joked.
“They do. Which means it would be wonderful if you told them how I tried my best to avoid you and you just wouldn’t take no for an answer.” After a pause she added, “You could also tell them you’re failing miserably, and that you begged me for my help due to my well-known expertise.”
I belted out a laugh. “Oh sure. I’ll rehearse that and regurgitate it verbatim. What do I need to bring?”
“Wine. A lot of it.”
I immediately chuckled at her demand, but she didn’t crack.
“I’m serious. We’re going to need it.”
“Yes ma’am.” I nodded, stifling the laugh that threatened to escape in response to her furiously narrowed eyebrows.
I’d met her parents without the luxury of liquid courage, faring just fine, but Sage’s apprehension had me questioning what information I may be lacking. We’d thrown in the towel for the day after I’d complained of going cross-eyed from squinting at papers all afternoon, but in reality I’d noticed Sage pinching the bridge of her nose, attempting to smooth out a headache of her own.
I knew she wouldn’t yield first, and I also knew she’d wasted most of her weekend helping me. The woman deserved to go home and relax. She’d been on the farm almost daily, spending all of her off time providing me with free labor, and a sliver of guilt coursed through me for adding to her never-ending list of tasks. She’d tackled an impressive chunk of the papers, clearing enough room that I may actually be able to have a meal at the table.
When she finally agreed to pack up, I leaned on the frame of the door, waiting for her to put her shoes on so I could see her out. But as she stood to leave, she paused, looking up at me with a bit of mischief.
“Thank you again for today.” I smiled, and although I vowed to allow Sage to lead, I surely wasn’t going to be the one to walk away first.
Her eyes burned into me, the clear blue stunning me time and time again. She stood that way for a while, waiting for a few extra moments to see if I’d crack, but her own restraintsnapped first. A tiny huff escaped her as she tugged my shirt collar, lowering my face to hers until our lips met, and I couldn’t help but smile as she hummed, the vibration eliciting sound-waves of desire. I’d be lying if I said the sonance didn’t ruin me, threatening to break any hold I had on my self-control, but luckily for me, the kiss was short, relieving me of the tension that threatened to snap.
“Thankyou, Miles.”
I squeezed her hand before she dropped mine, watching as she made it safely to her car from my perch on the porch, and it took everything in me not to march across the driveway and kiss her the way she deserved, to coax out those hums and moans. But before my thoughts could wander any further, the clock rang out, marking the hour with its muffled chimes, handing me the reprieve I needed.
Cows.
The week was painfully slow, and each morning I looked forward to my glimpse of Sage.
“She’s not going to need bottles much longer,” I warned.
“I know.” Sage sighed. “She grew up so fast.”
“There will always be more calves,” I said, handing her a cup of coffee.
She nodded in acceptance, but I knew the soft spot she had for this one ached, because mine did too. Before heading to the parlor, I gave her shoulder an affirming squeeze, leaving her to enjoy the remaining time while the little one was still little.
