Page 2 of The First Day of Breeding Season (Wildfire Ranch #4)

DREW

“Hey boss, you’ve got a visitor!”

“I’ll be right down,” I holler, grabbing the faded Filson shirt I stripped off earlier.

A buzzing sound warns me that a wasp is nearby, and I shake it out before wiping my face with it.

It’s a warm one today, already, and it’s not yet noon. An unexpected early heat wave is rolling through Wyoming, and it’s roasting in the barn, but there’s a lot of work to be done before the summer student shows up this afternoon.

Once he gets here, I’m going to have my hands full, so I’ve been churning through what I can get done, to the point of my muscles aching from use.

After wiping my face and neck with the work shirt, I decide against putting the layer back on.

Whoever has dropped in, they’re going to get the real me.

Dirty jeans, sweat-soaked t-shirt. Short-tempered and grimy.

I jam my cowboy hat on my head as I stride out of the barn, looking for Theo, the young ranch hand who called me down from the hay loft.

He’s fine. A bit of a dumb shit, like all of us are when we get that first taste of working hard for decent money, but he’s been a good hire this summer.

I like him well enough. He reminds me of myself at that age.

Or a few years younger. By the time I was nineteen, I’d lived on my own for four years already, working on ranches and scavenging whatever I could in between jobs, and then spending it all on pretty girls who were too old and too smart for me.

He’ll learn soon enough that hormones just get you into trouble.

I rub the rope tattoo around my wrist.

For the last twenty-two years, it’s been my constant reminder of what I want in life.

My pulse jumps against my thumb as my gaze finally finds Theo.

Because right beside him is a woman, a beautiful young woman, and suddenly my ranch hand is the last thing on my mind.

She’s short, a sturdy little girl who could fit in my pocket, and it’s almost hard to look at her.

Almost. Fuck. I can’t tear my gaze away.

She’s poured into a pair of cut-off jean shorts, a faded t-shirt, and dusty cowboy boots that give me an excuse to look at her creamy calves, her lush curvy thighs.

Her laugh is so fucking sweet, the sound of it carrying on the dusty wind makes me trip over my own damn feet.

With a bright, winsome smile and freckles dusting her cheeks like home grown gold dust, she glows from the inside out.

Mine .

Hot damn, I wish. Because there’s something so familiar about her, it almost feels like she’s walked straight out of long-locked-up fantasies.

She looks like the kind of girl that once upon a time I hoped I would find, that I hoped I'd be able to take care of before I learned that I'm not that kind of man.

And when she turns to look at me, pinning that bright, hopeful hazel gaze on my dumb face, my brain flatlines so hard I barely remember to tip my hat to her.

“This is Drew,” Theo says.

“Hi, Drew,” she says, her soft voice stroking over my name.

Her lips are hypnotic.

“Sorry, darlin’. You caught me off guard,” I murmur. “The name’s Drew Lowry. It’s a pleasure.”

Her smile blossoms slowly as she nods and looks her fill of me.

On my wrist, my tattoo tingles.

And in my jeans, my cock swells to life.

Jesus. I’m getting hard for a complete stranger.

I want that mouth wrapped around my dick. Being sweet for me as I pump it over her tongue, getting her used to Daddy’s taste.

Daddy?

Where the fuck did that come from?

But God damn, my cock likes it.

I glare at Theo, as if all of this is his fault. It looks like it’s a challenge for my ranch hand to drag his eyes off her, too, because he doesn’t even notice that I’m glowering at him.

“Theo!” I grit my teeth, swallowing back what I want to say. Instead, I jerk my head. “Go finish sweeping out the hay loft. Now.”

He takes one last, longing look at the curvy, touchable ray of sunshine, and hightails it into the barn because he knows who pays him.

Which leaves her alone with me, and my own lusty gaze.

The breeze picks up, blowing dust between us and plastering a few strands of hair against her dewy cheek.

I step forward as she brushes them away.

I was going to do that.

I drop my arm. Hadn’t even realized I’d already lifted it.

Clenching my fingers in a fist, I shove them against my hip. “What can I do for you, miss? I’m afraid we ain’t hiring right now.”

Confusion flickers across her pretty face. “Oh. Um. No, that is, I mean?—”

“Pretty girl like you ought to have no problem finding something. I could help make some calls for you.” Even though I hate the idea of her turning on her heel and heading elsewhere, having her on the ranch would be a disaster.

I’d be fighting my own ranch hands by the end of the week, and since I’m heading into the hills with the summer student, I won’t even be here to make sure they behave.

And most importantly, keep their grubby mitts off Daddy’s sweet girl.

Mine.

On my hip, my radio squawks. Another ranch hand, Benji, is trying to get my attention. “Boss, you there? Check your text messages.”

We use cell phones and radios in equal measure on the ranch. Most days, people have to use one to remind me to check the other.

Case in fucking point.

“Excuse me, sweetheart,” I mutter as I step back.

Pulling out my phone also means I have to stop looking at her, which is hard, but also for the best. I need to send her away, after all, and I won’t get to look at her at all after that.

“Um…” She shifts closer, trying to get my attention as I try to work my phone. “I’m not here for a job. Not exactly, I mean.”

I don’t have any reception in this exact spot.

“Hang on, I need to…” I hold my phone up and start heading up the gravel driveway toward the main ranch house, where I live with one of my brothers, Zane, and his wife Daisy. My other brothers, Noah and Trick, have their own homes, with their own wives, deeper into the ranch.

Sometimes I think they had a family meeting without me and decided Zane and his wife Daisy might live in the main house until they have a brood of kids that outgrows the bedrooms.

They don’t want to leave me alone.

I’m the last single Lowry brother standing. I’ll probably die a bachelor, which is just fine by me.

For all I care, they can all get out.

I don’t want them go far , of course. But right now, Zane and Daisy are away, Zane traveling on the rodeo circuit, and he never wants to let his hellion bride out of his sight, so…she’s with him at every stop.

It’s kind of nice how quiet the place is.

Or was, before Little Miss Sunshine showed up and made me think about wanting things I can’t have. About how good laughter sounds, and how my brothers have all found their mates and I won’t get to have that kind of joy in my life.

Although the way she’s chasing me, trying to get in front of me and keep talking, I wouldn’t exactly describe our interaction as joyous. Persistent, though, she sure is that.

In the near distance, I hear a side-by-side approaching. Benji, probably, resorting to the third way of relaying messages to me—in person in a farm utility vehicle.

“Hey, Drew.” She’s literally running now. “We’ve exchanged emails? I’m the student doing the research project for the summer. I’m not miss or sweetheart. I’m Brynn Hughes.”

That pulls me up sharp.

Did she say Brynn?

No. No.

A few weeks ago, my brother Noah, who teaches at the local community college, told me about one of his students, Brian Hughes, who had an interest in my breeding program.

He said Brian, right? I swear I heard him say Brian.

I emailed the kid, and he sent back a detailed proposal outlining what he would get out of a summer mentorship under me.

We exchanged a lot of messages, actually. He had tons of questions about turning a bull loose with the cows and heifers when we don’t have a lot of gates and fencing.

It’s the kind of specificity I nerd out on.

I told our manager, Raul, to save a bed for this Brian kid in the bunkhouse.

I sent her an email a few days about my bulls’ scrotal circumferences! Good news , I told her.

Because I’ve invited this woman—this girl—this person not named Brian after all to come into the mountains with me and watch my bulls breed all the cows and heifers they can mount. Over and over again. Close observation of animal fuckery.

Belatedly, my phone finally pings with a text message just as Benji comes around the barn, kicking up a dust cloud in the side-by-side.

Noah

Brynn sent me a text saying she’s on her way to the farm! Sorry I’m not there to greet her.

Fuck me. He never said Brian.

“There’s been a mistake,” I mutter under my breath.

She shoves her hand into the space between our bodies, a stubborn look settling onto her pretty, heart-shaped face. “I don’t think there’s a mistake,” she says firmly. “You accepted my proposal. You told me I could move onto the ranch today.”

Brynn.

Not Brian.

Brynn .

The name echoes through me, over and over again as I stare down at her small hand, still waiting for me to take it.

“You were supposed to come this afternoon,” I say dumbly.

You were supposed to be an eager mini-me shadow, not a wet dream come to life.

“Hey boss,” Benji says with a too-cheerful grin as he strides toward us. “Who’s this?”

Fuck me. This girl can’t stay in the bunkhouse with Theo and Benji.

Double fuck me, I can’t take her into the hills with Theo and Benji.

“I’m Brynn,” she says, beaming at him.

I want to tear my young employee limb from limb as he lifts his hat and gives her an aw shucks nod.

No, she can’t stay under the same roof or sky as any of our ranch hands. She’s soft and sweet-looking, with the most expressive eyes I’ve ever seen.

Those eyes aren’t very impressed with me right now.

“I got the text, Benji. Get back to work.”

“All right,” he says, then slides a hungry look at Brynn. “See you around, I hope.”

I growl.

When he drives off again, she kicks her boot heel in the dirt. “It didn’t take me long to pack up this morning. I know you said to come in the afternoon, but I figured…”

Translation: I’m still the eager mini-me you were expecting. I wanted to come as soon as possible.

Fucking hell.

B. Hughes is a girl.

And I’ve promised to spend the summer closely mentoring her in the science of cattle breeding.