Page 6 of Wishing Hearts

He nods, gesturing me forward and dropping to a crouch in front of the ewe. He palpates her leg gently before lifting her foot back and checking her hoof.

“Foot scald,” Harrison says with a sigh. A bacteria that causes inflammation. “We’ll need to check the rest of the flock and separate out the diseased.”

“Christ,” I mutter. “This just keeps gettin’ better.”

“Yeah. I think I’m going to need a drink when this day is over,” Harrison says, letting the ewe’s foot go.

A smile tugs at my cheek. “Is that an invitation? ’Cause I love a good stout.”

Harrison huffs, lips twisting as he looks up at me. “Is this you being friendly again?”

“Lemme ask you this,” I say in response, gaze running down to where Harrison’s jeans are pulled tight around his crotch and thighs because of his crouched position. When I return my slow perusal to his face, his eyebrows are raised. “How much honesty do you appreciate?”

Harrison doesn’t answer for the longest time, and I start to wonder if maybe I am reading him wrong. But then his eyes track down my chest in a way that is most definitely not passive, and my hope flares bright.

“Sam.”

“Yeah?” I ask eagerly.

Those eyes flick back up to my face. “Get me another sheep. Please.”

I puff out a breath before flashing a smile. “Whatever you need.”

“You’re my man?” he asks wryly, leading the ewe with foot scald over to a separate pen.

The brightness of my grin could rival that big ol’ Texas sun. “You’re catchin’ on.” I’m halfway out of the barn before I call back, “And it’s Sammy.”

Chapter 3

Harrison

Sam is an incessant flirt.

I should discourage the man, seeing as I’m here to work, not play whatever this is. But honestly, I can’t bring myself to do it. Not only because it’s a welcome distraction from the tragedy of this situation, but the simple fact of the matter is Sam is damn fine.

It’s been a long time since I’ve had someone interested in me the way he so clearly is. I’m not under any delusions that Sam is after more than a quick fuck. But I haven’t gone out, haven’t hooked up or dated, in years. It’s been too hard with everything else going on. And it feels good, being wanted again. Having someone look at me the way he does.

I used to be like Sam. A flirt. A little more carefree with my smiles. Ten, fifteen years ago, I wouldn’t have hesitated to return his interest. I might have even suggested slipping inside the storage room at the end of the barn for a quickie.

But I’m not the same man I was back then.

Sam sure makes me tempted to forget all that, though. At least for a night.

We’ve been at it for several hours when my phone rings from inside my pocket. Excusing myself, I make my way outside to answer.

“Hello?”

“Grandma and Grandpa don’t have the good crackers,” a small voice says in lieu of a greeting. “They have the off-brand. And Grandpa said it’s ’cause they were cheaper, but more doesn’t mean better, Daddy.”

I huff a laugh. “No, it doesn’t, Pumpkin.”

“I want you to come home.”

My chest seizes tight at the sadness hidden away behind the pluck in my daughter’s tone. I blow out a slow breath. “I know, but it’s going to be a few days.”

“Why do you gotta be gone so long?”

“Oh, Winnie.” I walk over to the nearby fence, setting my hat atop a post and leaning on the rail. The wind feels cool against my sweaty hair, and I breathe in the musky animal-scented air before answering. “Remember what we talked about?”

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