Page 135 of Scent to the Feral Cowboys

I was clean after the bath, wearing his long shirt, and I had a towel over my lap, but I felt so exposed right now.

“You doing okay?” He gazed at me through lashes, forest eyes searching for any sign that I was uncomfortable.

“I’m fine. That didn’t hurt much.”

“This won’t either,” he held up a bottle, “I got the good one.”

The label said wound wash on it, with claims like ‘effective’ and ‘sting-free’. Wade put a folded towel beneath my feet and began methodically spraying, making sure he didn’t miss any of the blisters or raw skin. When he was done, he waved a hand and blew softly, trying to speed drying.

“You’re good at this,” I commented, “You could have been a doctor.”

His mouth curved into a smile as he traded the wash for a cream tube. “Never had much interest in treating people. Animals though…” his voice trailed off as he unscrewed the tube’s cap and started applying the antibiotic. When he was done, he unfurled gauze and started wrapping.

“Why not be a veterinarian? Why a rancher?” I was genuinely curious, though I didn’t want to be. What I should want—no, I did want—was to be back outside, walking away from Wade and the rest of the pack.

He rocked back on his heels, job done. I looked down, lifting my feet to examine the bandages. Secure, not too tight, neatly done.

“Working the ranch was never a choice,” he shrugged. “Wyatt and I knew it was our future from the time we could walk, so we put our hearts into it early.”

He stood up, offering me his hands.

I let him help me, but when I stood my feet stung. Automatically, I rose on tiptoes, angling forward to take the pressure off the worst sores. When I tilted forward, though I wasn’t in danger of falling, Wade automatically reached for me, hands curling around my upper arms. On tiptoes, I was taller. I only had to tilt my head a little to see his thick, curving mouth.

It wouldn’t have been very hard to kiss him…

I shook my head, trying to dislodge the memories.

Wade was murmuring to Dolly, stroking her back.

"You do this a lot? Delivering calves, I mean?" I asked, as my thoughts tried to run rampant again, going back to Wade’s fingers on my body, the proximity of his mouth, the way his expression filled with yearning.

‘Every birth on the ranch’, he’d said. He’d probably delivered dozens of animals.

His smile was full now, eyes sparkling. “A lot might be an overstatement, but often enough. My first delivery was,” he cocked his head, thinking, “at ten maybe? Wyatt and I stayed up all night with Gramps. It was a difficult one."

"Ten?" I couldn't hide my surprise. "That seems young."

"That's ranch life." He shrugged again, patting Dolly’s flank before moving toward her head to scratch behind her ears. "You learn early. The animals depend on you."

The cow leaned into Wade’s touch, her eyes half-closing in what looked like complete trust, and absolute contentment. Dolly was a gentle giant. I didn’t need to be scared.

“She really trusts you.” I couldn’t help smiling.

"People and animals know who really care for them," Wade continued, his voice gentle. "Who respects them. Who’ll be there when shit is tough."

I knew he wasn't just talking about the cow. The implication hung in the air between us—that, if I let them, Wade and his pack would take care of me too. They would keep me safe, keep me healthy, respect me, and stay around when shit got tough. Though I was sure he meant it kindly, I bristled at the comparison.

"I'm not a cow, Wade," I said, my voice sharper than I intended.

He looked up, genuine surprise on his face. "I never said you were."

"You didn't have to. The subtext was pretty clear." I turned away from him, giving him my back and crossing my arms. I was being irrational. I knew he didn’t mean it that way. Yet, I felt myself softening towards Wade. Towards the stupid cow. The stupid pasture. The stupid ranch with its Alphas. I didn’t want to sway from my hard resolve. I wanted to get away from them, break the damn contract and go back to Seattle. “I’m not dumb, Wade.” I said fiercely, spinning back around and glaring at him.

Dammit, why did the sight of him make my heartbeat just a little faster?

Wade sighed, giving Dolly one last pat before making his way back to the fence. He hopped over it with the same easy grace, landing beside me with barely a sound.

"That's not what I meant," he said quietly. "I was just saying that both people and animals know when someone means them harm and when someone doesn't. Dolly acts that way because I’ve never hurt her, and I never will.”