Page 18 of For Cowgirls and Kings (The Trauma Bonded #2)

THIRTEEN

ADALENE

“Men-Men, what makes a cow better than others?” Josh, one of my more obnoxious freshmen, asks, his brows pulled together in confusion.

I face the ring once more, taking in the various cattle lined out in front of us. Each of their coats are shiny and puffed out, they’re backs perfectly trimmed toward their tail, heads held high as their handler works to show off their best angles.

Every year I bring students to the Fort Worth Stock Show, something they work hard to gain a seat for through their work in and out of the classroom.

As an agriculture teacher, the field trips aren’t only what make us unique, they make us lots of kids favorites.

Real world experience is just as important as what’s taught in the classroom, especially if it applies to their interests.

Most of my students, although interested, won't become agriculturalists themselves—even fewer in the cattle breeding world specifically. But if I can bring one kid to their passion, show them the way to a life full of something both meaningful and important, I’ll feel like I’ve met my purpose in life.

Even if most days I struggle with the motivation to do so.

I love these kids, many as if they’re my own, but they can suck too.

Teaching isn’t all rainbows, it’s hard fucking work.

The actual teaching aspects aside, planning trips and executing them, but also helping kids with life— relationships, families, futures.

I’ve become a second mom to many of my students, and I love it.

But it’s also an enormous weight of responsibility that can be smothering too.

And today I’m drowning.

“These are steers, Josh.” Dakota, a junior who thinks she wants to be a vet someday but never shows up to class on time because she prefers making out with her girlfriend in the hallway, chides Josh. Her tone is haughty, and not for the first time today, I fight off an eyeroll.

High schoolers are such know-it-alls.

“Well, Josh, this is a good class. Pretty evenly matched honestly—I wouldn’t want to be the judge.

But he’s looking at a bunch of things when he’s judging them.

” I lean back, pointing between the bars of the fence.

“Some of the basics are simple. How solid and correct is their structure, or skeleton? How much muscling do they have? Is their body balanced? Do they move well or are they injured or structurally unsound? That’s more important in heifer classes or bull classes though. ”

“Why?” Josh asks, leaning forward to get a better look at where I’m pointing. Genuine curiosity sparkles in his eyes, and I can’t help but smile.

“You want livestock that moves well, especially if they’re being used for breeding. That way they don’t get injured or something, when breeding.”

“Ew, cow sex,” Noah whines, and I sit up straighter looking over my shoulder at him, eyes narrowed.

“Remember what we talked about in Ag 101?” I ask, waiting for Noah, or anyone for that matter, to answer.

“If you’re not mature enough to use proper terms, don’t talk about breeding.” Sasha bumps her shoulder into Noah, who shoots a glare at her with very little heat.

“Look Men!” Josh whisper shouts, the arena deathly quiet beyond our hushed chatter and the hum of a heater high in the ceiling.

I focus back on the arena, watching as the judge pauses in front of the row of contestants, before turning on his heel and stomping toward a young girl on the far end, her steer’s head hoisted almost above her own.

I’m smiling like a fool before he even gets there, butterflies erupting in my stomach.

This is my favorite part.

The judge walks behind the steer, slapping it on the rump, eliciting a wave of cheers to fill the barn.

My own students clap and holler, even though most of them don’t know exactly why.

But that’s the magic of these things—seeing someone’s hard work pay off in a big way is damn near a high all its own.

“Did she just win?” Josh asks, his voice laced with excitement.

“Yes she did!” Sasha confirms before I have a chance, sharing in his joy. It’s a sweet gesture, and one of the many that make her one of my favorites. She knows I struggle sometimes, being “on” all the time.

I turn around, giving her a quick wink before facing the ring again, watching the next class file in.

“Next up, Angus heifers, open show,” the announcer states, his voice filling the arena.

The chatter of my students quickly rises, their excited voices moving to topics not related to cattle showing or school whatsoever. And normally, I allow it—if it’s not hurting others, and they’re still mostly present, it’s not worth the argument.

But today I need a little more quiet, a little more focus. We’re here to learn and I need their attention, even if everything else seems more exciting.

“Hey guys, focus up,” I say without looking over my shoulder. Most of the voices die out quickly, but Noah’s whiny voice continues to prattle on.

“Is it true that your parents are getting a divorce, Josh?”

Josh stiffens beside me, but he doesn’t take his eyes off the arena. I keep my face perfectly neutral, but my heart stutters all the same.

I didn’t know Josh was having trouble at home.

From the corner of my eye I see Josh shrug, but Noah leans forward, eager to continue his pestering. “I heard your mom stepped out?—”

Even though I hate getting involved in high school drama, especially in such a public place, I can’t stop myself from whirling to face Noah, my face stern. “Noah,” I bark, and he jumps up, eyes wide like I’ve hit him.

And man, would I fucking like to right now.

I stare at him for several beats, silently scolding him, and his face crumples further.

Noah has home problems of his own, that much I know, but damn. Why do kids feel the need to make others as miserable as themselves? I narrow my eyes. Is it just kids? Don’t adults do the same thing? Do I ever do that?

All of a sudden, my body’s rocked from the left, an enormous shoulder bumping into my own. I whirl on the newcomer, only to halt, coming face to face with a grinning Mateo. I have to lean back slightly, his proximity instantly invading my every sense.

What the fuck is he doing here?

His chocolatey eyes glimmer with mischief in the fluorescent barn lights, hair perfectly combed back, face split into a wide grin displaying his perfectly white teeth.

The sight of him catches me so off guard, it takes several moments to catch my breath enough to choke out, “Mateo?”

His grin widens, bordering on unhinged, like he just won the damn lottery or something.

“Why are you smiling like that?” I chide, trying to scoot away slightly without making it too obvious. As I do it, one of his dark brows raises, but his smile doesn’t falter.

Surely he can’t tell how being this close to him makes my skin buzz. Right?

“Men?” Sasha asks, a laugh laced in the word. And I come crashing back to reality—the one where I’m a teacher, on a field trip, surrounded by students.

Mateo leans forward slightly, as if sharing a secret. “You going to introduce me to your friends, Ms. Mendes?”

My pulse quickens, mouth going as dry as the fucking desert at the way he says my name. It’s both a caress and a challenge all wrapped into one, and I’m having a hard time staying focused on the task at hand.

Which was what again?

His smile softens, but his eyes seem to brighten, like he can tell what he’s doing to me, before he sits up straighter, waving at the still uncharacteristically quiet kids sitting behind me. “Hey guys, I’m Mateo, a friend of Ms. Mendes’s.”

“Do you call her Ms. Mendes outside of school?” Dakota asks, clearly confused. I inwardly groan. This couldn’t get more awkward.

“Only when she asks me to,” Mateo states, his voice all seriousness, and I nearly choke.

It, in fact, can get more awkward.

My face flames hot, my body betraying me as my embarrassment becomes evident to everyone around us.

The memory of Jared calling me Ms. Mendes in front of Mateo flashes through my mind, but is quickly replaced with daydreams I have of Mateo calling me that instead.

Only it would be on his knees, with a bit more of a begging tone .

“Ooohhh,” all the kids coo at once, and I shoot Mateo a glare I hope burns clear to his bones. He just smiles, shaking his head. I need to get a fucking grip.

I know most of the students will miss the double innuendo—not that it’s even true—but still. They know I’m embarrassed, and with high schoolers, that’s a potent blade to wield against me.

“Sorry,” he says, turning to face the arena. But he doesn’t sound the least bit apologetic, and as he turns his hand brushes my own. Electricity bolts up my arm, my fingers curling with the intensity of it, but I remain frozen, staring at the side of his face.

How can he just show up, turn my day upside down, and still act so indifferent?

I huff, blowing a stray piece of hair out of my face, and turn to watch the last bit of the open show.

Anything to get my mind off the overwhelming proximity of this man, and his…

everything. I can’t afford to be daydreaming about him in my personal time, much less when I’m supposed to be in my professional pants.

“Is that Faith?” His question pulls me from my thoughts, and I zero in on the woman he’s pointing at across the arena. Petite frame, pale blonde hair tied into a top knot, pale skin with that familiar rosy hue.

“Yeah it is.” I smile, leaning forward to get a better look. “I didn’t know she was here.”

“Doesn’t her family have, like, the biggest angus breeding operation in the area?”

I nod, that makes sense. I should have mentioned we were coming today to her, maybe she could have gotten us behind the pen or something.

I frown. This sucks—I should pay better attention to those around me, especially those I consider my friends.

Now my students are missing out on a potential opportunity, all because I’m too wrapped up in my own shit.

“Who’s she talking to?” Mateo asks, and I pause my self-loathing to look back at Faith.

Her back’s turned now, hands crossed in front of her. From her rigid stance, I get the impression it isn’t a positive conversation. Lifting my eyes, my eyebrows shoot to my hairline.

Nathan?

I guess it makes sense. His family also runs in the angus breeding world.

Not nearly as prevalent and powerful as Faith’s family, but there all the same.

His family is practically royalty in Moztecha, with their hands in all kinds of pots: angus breeding, a used car dealership, the sale barn, some old oil money.

I’m not wealthy, I don’t even think it should play a big role in someone’s character, but I knew Stetson needed help with her ranch.

Which is why I had pushed Nathan on her so strongly in the beginning, even if he did come off as a total prick.

I went to school with Nathan, but he was always too popular for the likes of me.

Which means I knew who he was, but not who he was.

I could tell he was never really interested in Stetson when I set them up, but I had hoped.

I just wanted to help.

Mateo leans in again, his starched jeans rubbing against my own, unpressed pair, and I stare down at the two starkly different finishes. They’re just jeans, and yet, they’re not.

It’s a perfect representation of just how different we really are.

Mine are old and worn, fading in spots, the hem around the ankle frayed completely, unpressed with a mysterious stain on one knee. His are dark, no tatters or tears like this is their first trip out, perfectly creased into a hard line down the front.

Pressed and perfect, just like the man who wears them.

Talk about wealth.

“Dale?” Mateo asks, pulling me from my thoughts.

“Sorry, I think it’s Nathan Swith. He lives in Moztecha.

We went to school with him. I’m surprised you don’t recognize him.

He was more in your—” I pause mid sentence.

What can I even say? Your class? That sounds fucking snobby as shit.

But he huffs, telling me he already knows what I meant, and I just shrug, my eyes zeroing back in on the glaring difference between our jeans, and our lives.

“Looks like it’s getting heated,” he states, and I look up just in time to see Faith throw up her hands, stomping away from the ring.

What the hell was that about?

“I don’t know. I didn’t even think they really knew each other.

” But the more I think about it, the more it makes sense that they would.

Nathan grew up the golden boy—the town's favorite, shrouded in his family's golden shadow.

And Faith, the porcelain doll her parents always wanted her to be—the perfect example of old money and the divine righteousness that brings.

There’s no two people who are probably better matched, on paper, than Nathan and Faith.

But why hasn’t she ever brought him up?

Faith always went to private schools, or maybe homeschool, I don’t even know. Another selfish mishap in our friendship.

“I’ll have to ask her next time I see her,” I say, my mind running over the possibilities.

He nods, shifting away and I look up. His smile’s softer, a sense of sadness falling over him somehow.

“Well it was good to see you. I have some work I need to get to, but—” His words drop off. He’s barely been here five minutes, and the unspoken words dangle between us. There’s so much I want to say, to ask, but now’s not the time or place.

Especially with an entourage of eager and nosy teenage ears.

Asking him why he sent me a dildo for Christmas would no doubt end my career. The corners of his eyes crinkle as his smile spreads wider— always reading my mind —and winks, the motion sending a fresh wave of electricity to race through me.

Fucking hell. I need to get it together.

“I’ll see you soon, Ms. Mendes?” It’s a question, and yet I have no answer.

I still don’t understand what’s happening between us.

“If you’re good,” I say, meaning it more as a joke, hoping to lighten the mood. But his eyes darken telling me it was not received as such.

His gaze doesn’t waver from my own as he stands, towering over me. I continue to stare back at him, sucked into the void that’s been yawning between us for months now.

Where are we going? What’s happening?

“See you guys, be good for your teacher,” he states, his eyes still boring into my own.

A wave of heat washes over me, and I shift my position, pressing my legs together slightly.

Mumbling filters up from behind me, and then Mateo turns striding away, confidence and dominance pouring off him in waves.

People move out of his way, a path clearing like the ocean parting as he walks toward the exit.