The universe seemed to enjoy putting him in a state of complete shock lately. He didn’t like it. Not one fucking bit. He looked into the bag, finding bottles and formula, then glanced at Leah’s scribbled handwritten note. Sterilize bottles. Feed every two-three hours. Use cotton balls to clean kittens’ genitals to stimulate bowels.
He groaned and looked at Gus. His dog’s tail was wagging. “I said no,” Nash grumbled. “We are not keeping them.”
Gus barked in obvious disagreement.
Chapter 7
Midmorning the next day, Nash moved away from Bentley after he tied him to the fence, while the other guests began tacking up their mounts for the lunch cookout. He’d missed the early morning cattle run, exhausted from last night. Beckett and Hayes reassured him they had it all under control. And Nash arrived at the farm a half an hour before noon to realize they did. It had taken two of his mother’s strongest cups of coffee to get his ass in gear, but he was awake now and ready to get on with the day.
“Now this I had to see for myself.”
Nash glanced over his shoulder to find Megan standing behind him, her eyes lit with heady amusement.
Confused, Nash turned to face her fully. “See what?”
“I didn’t believe Emma when she told me.” Megan’s gaze fell to the tool belt around Nash’s waist before she arched her eyebrows. “You put the kittens in a tool belt?”
Nash glanced down, reminded they were there. Fuck, maybe he wasn’t awake enough. “Seemed as good an idea as any.” He shrugged. “Where else was I going to put them? The little squirts feed every three hours.”
She laughed softly and shook her head. “Did you ride over with Bentley like that?”
“Yeah.” He moved a little closer, aware of how pretty she looked today in jeans and a tank top. “They’re either eating or sleeping. And they fit in this pretty good. They’re safe.”
She leaned in a little and peaked at them. “Oh, my goodness, they are so little.”
“They might be cute, but they shriek like fighting racoons when they’re hungry.”
“I can’t believe the cat got into your house.” She used a finger to softly pet the black kitten. “Any word on the mom’s condition?”
He was entirely aware of how close her finger was to parts of his body very interested in her nearness. “Leah called earlier and said it’s still touch-and-go.”
Megan petted all three kittens before leaning away, tucking her thumbs into the pockets of her jeans, studying him with a smile.
“What?” Nash frowned.
“Look at you being a big softy about kittens.” She smiled then waggled her eyebrows. “I like it.”
Already hot a
nd hard, he grinned and closed the distance. “Well then, what if I told you that I’m hand-feeding them?”
She pressed herself against his side. “That might make me melt a little.”
He dropped his head and nuzzled her neck. “I feed them every two to three hours. I barely slept last night.”
“Oh, you poor thing.” She slid her hand up his arm and moaned when he dropped a kiss onto her pulse. “I’ll have to take care of you later.”
“Mmm . . . that’s a promise I’m going to call you on.” She shivered, and then he kissed her. Hard. Passionately. Leaving her breathless, just as intended.
When he broke the kiss, the bright smile she gave him stayed in his thoughts as he left the kittens with his mother and set out on the chuckwagon, heading up the back of the line. Both his brothers and Emma, and even their mother, had all done their part to make the guest ranch a success. This had been Nash’s recent suggestion. He figured anyone coming to a dude ranch wanted a little taste of the old wild west. That’s what this lunch was all about. The chefs cooked over the open fire while the guests watched on and took in the Colorado mountain views with the Rocky Mountains off in the distance.
Only this ride, unlike every ride for the last three months, was different. He glanced sideways to the reason he’d been smiling nonstop. Megan rode his big-bodied dark gray quarter horse, Major. She’d reassured him that her doctor said she could continue to ride until her second trimester. Regardless, he’d put her atop a horse that he’d trust with a one-year-old. They called horses like Major bombproof, and Nash had trained him to be just that.
For the last hour they’d been riding at a slow walk up the mountain, and Megan was quiet, obviously lost in her thoughts. He’d never seen her ride before, but around these parts, everyone rode as easily as they walked. She wore a pink tank top with tight jeans, her cowboy boots, and a dark tanned cowboy hat atop her head.
She looked every bit a cowgirl, and every bit his girl.
Megan must’ve sensed him looking because she smiled then turned her head. “So, this is what Nash Blackshaw does now every day?”