Page 7 of The First Day of Breeding Season (Wildfire Ranch #4)
brYNN
I spend the rest of the afternoon riding. I’ve just finished feeding a well-brushed Ace when I hear someone enter the adjacent tack room.
“Just me,” Drew says in his deep voice. He pours a lot into two short syllables. Part warning, part intimate alert.
I roll my shoulders back, hoping he likes the Born To Ride, Forced To Go To CSCC shirt I’m wearing right now better than the one from earlier.
“Good timing,” I say once I’m in view. “I just finished with Ace.”
He nods. “You ready to walk up to the house? Dinner is in half an hour.”
“Oh! Yeah, okay, I’ll head up soon, thanks.”
He shrugs, his big shoulders bunching and flexing under cotton that loves to touch him.
I would, too.
“I’ll wait,” he says, his gaze lingering on me as I move around the space, putting everything away where I found it. “You ride well.”
The unexpected praise hits me hard, harder than it should. I think about the tattoo wrapping around his wrist and fight back a wave of strange emotion. “Thank you.”
There’s a long pause, then he says, “There’s been a change of plans for tomorrow.”
My eyes snap to his face, prepared for the worst. Prepared to fight for my spot, as we agreed. “Oh?”
But his gaze isn’t hard. It’s…searching.
“Trick needs Theo and Benji to help him for a few days. So we’re going to stagger the arrival of the bulls up in the hills.
” He drags in a breath. “Raul is going to drive up with us. He’ll bring the bulls in one trailer, and I’ll take the horses. The others will join us in a few days.”
Oh.
“If that’s all right with you.” He swallows hard.
A few days alone on a mountain with my cowboy obsession?
I nod slowly. “I’ll try to contain my enthusiastic questions.”
Surprise sparks in his gaze, and he opens the door for me. As I slide past him, he murmurs, “Don’t do that on my account.”
I turn back and take a second look at that searching expression on his face.
He shrugs again.
I think shrugging might be his primary mode of communication. Right up there with growling.
He drops his gaze to my tits, or the shirt covering them. “Another one from the CSCC collection?”
“They make up a lot of my wardrobe.” I pause a beat. “This is the tamest.”
“Of course it is.” He takes a deep breath. Holds it. Winces . And then says, “Let me guess, your favorite says Breeding Major ?”
He went there.
His expression doesn’t change, but there’s a warmth to how he says it, like he’s trying to tease me, and it’s working. A startled little laugh tears out of me.
I tip my head to the side. “Is that a lighthearted joke?”
“Yes.” He says it completely straight faced.
Heat zings through me. “I do one have one of those, you know. But my favorite is actually my Teach Me About Milking sweatshirt.”
I hold my breath as he stares at me.
Too much?
Fuck.
But then he smiles.
And oh shit, but Drew Lowry has a very nice smile that makes his eyes crinkle, which makes my heart do funny, squeeze-y things.
“I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you when you arrived,” he says.
That stops me in my tracks. I look at him carefully. “I wasn’t sure if we were going to talk about that.”
He nods. “Yeah, I fucked that up good.”
I’m going to read a lot of other apologies into that summary, too. I’m sorry I barked at you. I’m sorry I stare at your tits repeatedly.
It’s very easy to forgive the second one, since I like his attention there more than I should.
I cross my arms over my chest to discourage myself, and remove the distraction, even if this shirt is PG-13. “I really am looking forward to working with you this summer.”
He nods. “Glad to hear it. Can’t wait to hear more about that over dinner.”
“You’re coming to the bunkhouse?” I sound delighted. I am delighted. I grin at him.
“Yeah,” he says, almost like he can’t quite believe it. And then he gives me another crinkly-eyed smile. “We have a lot to talk about tonight.”
Which is all I need to float back to the main house on a cloud.