One thing is for sure, I’ll be here for more than just one day. I won’t be forcing myself on her, but I will make myself indispensable.
She may have paid a grand for my “pretty boy” ass, but she will get more than her money’s worth. Way more.
If that means I never go back to the rodeo, so be it.
ChapterFive
Casey
It’s always great to be on the back of my horse, on my pasture, with my herd. All alone.
It’s even better knowing I can take my time moving the cattle with at least one other chore already checked off my list. I won’t have to muck out the barn and refresh the hay tonight because I’m paying someone to do it. A pretty, pretty penny for a cute boy who might half-ass it. But half-assing is better than nothing.
Especially if those chores are getting done by a hot, hot cowboy. He looked good this morning; not gonna lie. I almost regret going to the barn so early and not waiting to have my breakfast with Tanner. It would have been fun to sit at the kitchen table, sneaking looks at his chest over the rim of my coffee cup. I thought he looked good in black last night. Today he came dressed for work in a well-worn chambray shirt and Wranglers that have seen better days. And I don’t hate it.
Is Tanner technically my employee? I suppose he is. And my traitorous eyeballs are having a hard time understanding sexual harassment. Traitorous eyes, traitorous stomach butterflies.
Shit, nobody gives me stomach butterflies. I haven’t felt that way in the presence of a cute boy since I was a child.
That’s how I know Tanner is totally wrong for me. This is just my immature, wild child side acting up in the presence of a cute boy. Well, a man. A big, strong man.
Athletic, Casey. You don’t care about muscular dudes. You like guys with beards and love handles. Older guys. Guys who’ve been around the block and are comfy to sleep on. A guy like Tanner isn’t going to keep my bed warm. Even if he stayed, he’s probably got icy feet and hogs the covers. I don’t know why; he just seems like he would.
Speaking of bed, I might actually go to bed at a reasonable time tonight. Maybe have time to read a single chapter without falling asleep from exhaustion.
I’ll give Tanner some credit. He didn’t complain when I put him on shit-shoveling duty. Nor did he question it when I told him he was late, even though I knew Joy was planning on feeding him breakfast. That was just me busting his balls, and I feel bad about it now.
But only a little bit.
I’m having a good day until my counting and re-counting shows that I’m short one cow, and I think I see the culprit. Just ahead of the herd, there’s a break in the fence.
“Shit,” I grunt in frustration. I spend nine days out of ten fixing this damn fence. I’ll have to return to the barn and get supplies, but first, I have a cow to lasso.
I find the rascal heifer down at her favorite spot by the creek. She circled back to where I’d had them grazing last week, where now the grass is recovering. They like the tender grass because it tastes better. Cows don’t understand that it’s terrible for the soil and plants when they devour baby grasses. They also don’t know how to open gates, preferring to rudely bust through wherever they please.
I leave Patsy to mind the rest of the herd while I head off to rope Daisy.
I know I’m not supposed to name my livestock, but it is what it is.
When I’ve positioned myself just right and have my loop ready to throw, I hear galloping to the right of Mary and me.
I see Tanner riding Mr. Grant at full gallop, one arm in the air, swinging a loop of rope overhead like the freaking rodeo cowboy he is.
I want to shout at him to stop there, but I don’t want to spook the horses, and I do not want to agitate this stubborn cow, Daisy.
Fine. Let him see how hard it is to do his little tricks in the real world.
Tanner tosses the rope, and it slips over Daisy’s head like butter.
Well, I’ll be damned.
I look at him and seethe as he slows Mr. Grant to a halt.
“What the hell are you doing?” I grit out. “You’re supposed to be cleaning out the barn.”
“Already done,” he replies, giving Daisy a sharp tug to pull her away from the grassy patch by the creek.
“Careful,” I tell him, watching him and getting ready to intervene if it looks like he doesn’t know how to handle her.