Page 74 of Finding Forgiveness

“Their names are a tad gruesome,” I admit.

“They’re not,” she growls. “They’re cute.”

She’s cute, and I’m loving seeing her all country-like. She’s dressed in a pair of dark, body-hugging designer jeans, complete with long, pink boots that have intricate embroidery stitching down both sides. A white, fitted top—that was pristine before we left the cabin, but is now smeared with streaks of mud—and a cowboy hat, which is the same colour as her boots. Her long brown hair is plaited in a loose braid that’s draped over one shoulder. She definitely looks the part.

She’s as sexy as fuck, and despite the number of times I’ve taken her today, my cock still craves more.

“Cute until one of them ends up on the dinner table at Christmas time,” I say.

She gasps. “Martha would never do that.” She nibbles on the corner of her bottom lip as she gazes down at little Crackling. I can see her mind ticking over from here. When her eyes move back to me, they’re as wide as saucers. “She wouldn’t do that would she, Con?”

I lift one shoulder. “Farmers do that stuff all the time. One day it’s a cow grazing in the paddock, the next it’s a T-bone steak on the barbeque.”

“Stop,” she screeches, placing Crackling down with the greatest of care to suckle with its siblings. Once her hands are free, she hugs her torso, looking a little green. “We have to save them.”

“The cows in the paddock?”

“No, my babies.”

“Technically they belong to Pork Chop.”

“I helped bring them into this world, so they’re partly mine,” she declares, moving her hands to her hips. “If I had known they were going to be, you know,” she lifts one of her arms and slices her pointer finger across her throat, “I would’ve left them inside Pork Chop where they were safe and sound.”

“I’m pretty sure that wasn’t a possibility, Cass.”

“Pfft.” She flicks her hand dismissing me. “Semantics. You need to help me think of a plan.”

“It’s the circle of life, Princess.”

“It’s cruel. You can’t eat pets, it’s against the law.”

“When we’re talking about farm animals, I’m pretty sure that rule doesn’t apply.”

Her lips thin. “Well, it should. We need to appeal the high court.”

I roll my lips. “It doesn’t work like that, and I was only surmising, maybe Martha doesn’t have plans to eat them.” A crooked smile tugs at one side of her mouth as she slides her phone out of her back pocket and powers it up. It starts to ding in succession, with incoming messages. She frowns down at the screen before raising it to her ear. “Who are you calling?”

“Martha,” she mouths as she lowers her arm and proceeds to put the call on speaker so I can hear their conversation. “Martha, hi, it’s me, Cassie.”

“Hey, hun, is everything okay?”

“Everything is fine,” she says, lifting her free hand to her mouth to nervously chew on her thumb nail. “Thank you for the muffins and coffee this morning.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Umm … while we’re on the subject of food, what do you plan on eating for Christmas dinner?”

I bite my knuckle to hide my smile.

“Why?”

“I’m just curious.”

“Christmas is months away … I haven’t even thought that far ahead.”

“You really should … these things can sneak up on you. I know how busy you are, so you need to prepare.”

“Cassie.”