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“I knew you were afraid of them.”

“They’re very…” She glances at Bethie, who is several paces away and lazily chewing on a wad of grass. “Big.”

I consider that. The highland cows are massive animals; their thick fur makes them seem even bulkier than they are, and their horns might look menacing if you didn’t know what giant puppies they are.

“They’re harmless,” I assure her.

She casts another wary look in Bethie’s direction. “That’s what theywantyou to think.”

“You’rereallyscared of the cows?”

“I’m notscared,” she insists. “But before this trip, I barely left New York. I’m not exactly an expert on bovine creatures. They’re…a new experience.”

“Ah, they’re practically big weans themselves.” I give a short whistle between my teeth, and Bethie’s head perks up to notice me before she slowly starts to trot over. “Wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“Don’t call it over!”

I give her a gentle push between her shoulder blades. “Now, you can’t work on the farm and be scared of the livestock. It just won’t do. Come on now, I’ll show you they’re harmless.”

“I don’t think—fuck.”

She jumps back when Bethie sidles up right beside her, still chewing slowly as she regards our new farmhand with a bored look. The cow’s eyes blink slowly, and her tongue dips out to lick at her own snout before she resumes her chewing.

“Now, the trick is not to show any fear,” I tell Key seriously. I’m already forming a solid plan to scare the shite out of her. Shouldn’t be too hard to get Bethie to rear up with a well-timed smack on her arse. Maybe it will put the wee princess MacKay on hers. “You don’t want them to come after you with their horns.”

“What?” Key’s eyes widen. “You said they were harmless!”

“As long as you don’t spook ’em,” I say, completely full of it. These cows wouldn’t trample a blade of grass unless they had a mind to eat it. “Now, approach her real gentle like, and give her your hand.”

“My hand?”

“Aye. You want to let her smell you. That way she gets your scent. Let her know you’re her friend.”

Key clenches and unclenches her fist slowly, her hand trembling a bit when she extends it toward Bethie. She looks utterly serious as she stares down the aging old cow, her fingers unwinding one by one and shaking slightly when she brings them near Bethie’s snout. She looks so serious, in fact, that I start to feel a bit guilty over my idea to scare her.

“That’s good,” I tell her quietly, telling myself I am just positioning myself closer to Bethie’s rump when I circle around to Key’s other side. “That’s really good.” I don’t know what possesses me to curl my fingers under her elbow—am I distracting her before I give her a scare? Then why are my fingers sliding down to circle her wrist? Her hand is so much more delicate than mine, and I can’t help but notice how well it fits in my grasp. “Just hold it steady now. Let her come to you.”

Any second now, I’m going to give Bethie a slap. Any second now, I’m going to have Keyanna squealing in terror and then surely cursing my name after. It’ll besatisfying, I remind myself.

But then her green eyes flick up to meet mine, looking so wide and guileless that I damned near forget the whole prank. “She won’t bite?”

“I…” I try to remember what I was doing, let alone what I’d planned to say, momentarily taken aback by the clenching sensation in my chest when those viridescent eyes meet mine. “No,” I say finally, clearing my throat when it sounds too rough. “She won’t bite.”

Bethie chooses that moment to nudge Key’s hand, sniffing at it gently as if looking for a treat before giving it a heavy lick. The resulting peal of laughter that falls from Key’s mouth is probably the most unattractive sound I’ve ever heard—her laugh is high-pitched and more of a shriek than a laugh really—so why do I want to make her do it again?

I release Keyanna immediately, taking a step back from her if for no other reason than to get a handle on my own thoughts. This entire interaction is too friendly for my liking; if there is one thing I have no wish to be, it’s friends with a MacKay. Even one as amusing as this one.

“There,” I say evenly, keeping my expression flat. “See? You were just being daft.”

The mirth in her features evaporates, replaced by a disgruntled frown. “Just when I thought you might not be a total asshole.”

“That’s what you get for thinking, I reckon,” I say blithely.

She rolls her eyes. “Are you this insufferable with everyone or just me?”

“S’pose you’re just special,” I answer with a smirk. I watch as she drags the pitchfork upright, her eyes darting warily between it and the hay. I cock my head, suddenly curious. “Why are you taking this so seriously anyway?”

Her brow lifts. “What do you mean?”