Page 3 of Jewel in the Rough

Teagan stopped at the entrance to the barn, resting his hands on his hips as he stared around the familiar structure. The ache in his thigh…ached, but it wasn’t going to go away and the cows needed milking. Rubbing it, he limped inside. He was late starting his day and the five dairy cows waited, staring at him with definite disdain, judging him for sleeping through his alarm. Betty Moo stomped her back leg in case Teagan hadn’t gotten the memo that being late was unacceptable.

He could do this, right? After all, his father had run the dairy on his own—until he’d dropped dead of a heart attack, anyway. Surely, one gimpy ex-cop could do the same. Although Teagan would prefer not to die young; he’d already tried that.

It had been almost a year since the shooting, six months since his dad had passed and he’d returned to his childhood home, and Teagan still wasn’t “feeling the groove,” as his sister liked to put it. Between the long hours and a type of physical activity he wasn’t used to, Teagan was falling into his childhood bed by nine every night, exhausted, bruised, and definitely not feeling the groove.

He and his younger sister Ciara had grown up on the farm. Milking the cows had been a daily chore for both of them, right up until Teagan turned eighteen and left for the big city of Los Angeles and eventually the LAPD. It had been his life’s dream to be a cop, a detective, to solve crimes and help people. It had never been his dream to be a dairy farmer.

And yet, here he was.

Hedy Lamoo snorted and shook her head, clearly tired of Teagan’s hesitation. Taking a deep breath and letting it back out, Teagan crossed over to where the tiny herd waited for him.

Milking cows was like riding a bicycle and, also, not. Muscle memory was there for him, but each cow had her preferences, and his dad had always milked by hand. Teagan remembered when he and Ciara learned there were machines that could do their job and begged him to buy one. The answer had been an emphaticnever gonna happen.

Teagan rubbed Blanche Nevermoo’s soft nose. She was the youngest of the five and seemed to like him, unlike the Bettys, who did their best to kick over the buckets and get hay in the fresh milk whenever they could. The herd from Teagan’s youth had long since been replaced. His sister, who’d left Piedras for a brief stint in college, had returned and talked their dad into letting her name the new cows. The remaining two were Betty White and Bette Davis, and they all had attitudes.

Once the fresh milk was strained and poured into the glass containers, Teagan stowed it in the huge cooler his dad had installed several years ago, around the same time he’d invested in a pasteurizing system. Jewel Dairy sold both pasteurized and, with special permitting, unpasteurized milk to locals and some boutique restaurants on the islands. It was Ciara who’d dreamed up the gourmet ice cream that was not only keeping the farm afloat, but had it making a profit for the first time in years.

His injured thigh complained as he squatted to reach Betty White’s teats; the action did not do the damaged muscle and scar tissue any good.

“You need someone to help out.”

Teagan looked over his shoulder to where his sister was leaning against the barn door.

“I thought I had help, until you got the great idea to open an espresso and ice cream stand.” Ciara’s successful business meant she couldn’t help on the farm and Teagan resented it just a little.

“Stand? It’s a full-on business, Teagan. And I’m your best customer. Anyway, I guess I should phrase it like this: I found you an assistant. His name is Benny, and he’ll be here later today.”

Standing to his full height, Teagan wiped the sweat from his forehead as he glared at his sister. There was no doubt they were related. They’d both inherited their mother’s blond hair and sky-blue eyes and their father’s build and temper, so looming did not daunt Ciara.

“You what? How am I going to afford an assistant?” Something niggled at him, but he didn’t stop to figure out what it was, his irritation with Ciara overriding his memory bank.

Ciara mimicked Teagan’s pose, hands on hips and a defiant expression that he knew was mirrored on his own face.

“Jewel Dairy is busy, Teagan, and getting busier. In case you hadn’t noticed it, you can hardly keep up with demand as it is. You can’t affordnotto have an assistant. Why do you think Dad dropped dead at sixty-five? Will at leastoneof my male relatives listen to me? And anyway, Benny’s pay is room and board for now, so you won’t be out much.”

The part about their dad dropping dead due to overwork was echoing so loudly in his head, Teagan almost missed the part about room and board and forgot what he’d wanted to ask her about this Benny guy. There was plenty of space in the enormous old farmhouse he’d inherited along with the farm, but it washisspace now, and he didn’t want to share it.

“Who is this guy?” he spat. “Where did you find him? What does he know about dairy farming?”

Ciara’s gaze shifted ever so slightly before she wrinkled her lip, not giving him an inch. She never had been intimidated by him, and he was proud of her achievements even if he was terrible at expressing it. “At least as much as you do, Teagan, maybe more. I can’t drop everything every time you have a question or need a hand with something. Benny is just who you need. Theespresso stand,as you call it, is swamped, and we can’t produce enough ice cream to keep up with demand, and it’s only June. Every time I leave the store to come and help you, it costs us money.”

The truth stung.

Teagan blinked away the hurt of his sister’s assessment. “Fine.”

Ciara was right, he knew, but Teagan wanted to be alone, to lick his wounds in peace. He hadn’t chosen dairy farming, it had chosen him. He had forgotten a lot of what he’d once known—and to be fair, as a teen he’d refused to do more than his dad asked of him, even after their mom died. Basically, he’d been an asshole and still was.

“Having someone here to help out will, hopefully, keep you from working as hard as you have been. I know you had to be a tough cop in LA, and it’s been hard since your injury and even harder since dad died, but I miss my brother. You used to smile more, and I think maybe you’re lonely, even if you’ll never admit it. Benny will be good for you.”

With that, his sister departed, and Teagan realized she hadn’t answered his questions about the mystery man’s qualifications.Benny.What was it about that name? Ciara was right, Teagan grudgingly admitted to himself. He needed help, so hopefully this guy would work out.

Tentacles of afternoon sun were creeping through cracks in the barns walls when Teagan thought he heard tires crunching against the gravel in the drive. The sound distracted him, and Bette Davis took advantage, positioning herself so she could knock the bucket over.

“Don’t you dare, wench.” Teagan grabbed the milk container to steady it. “My back hurts and I’m hungry. Now is not the time for this shit.”

Standing and rubbing at the small of his back, a groan of pain escaping his lips, Teagan then hefted the five-gallon container into the cooler. Betty White, who was waiting by the gate, snorted to let him know that he could hurry it up and let her back out to the small pasture anytime, now that the temperature outside had dropped. She was a demanding cow.

“Hold your horses.”

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