Page 15 of Till The Cows Come Home

Chapter Fourteen

Sage

I ’m not sure I’d ever get used to wandering a home that was no longer mine, yet I allowed myself to be led into a place that I could navigate with my eyes closed, happily brewing coffee as a visitor.

I often found myself in this constant state of conflict, confused on if I should fight to take back what was “mine” or accept that Miles deserved to be here just as much as I did.

As I stirred creamer into my coffee, I silently laughed to myself, replaying Miles’ apology in response to his blatant lack of caffeine choices.

My father had drank that same blend for as long as I could remember, and although it wasn’t my first choice, I could remember counting down the days until I was old enough to sit with him at the table and sip something stronger than cocoa.

And if I tried hard enough, I could still feel the overwhelming happiness as we clinked mugs the first time, my face adorned with a grin so big it hurt my cheeks.

I sipped my coffee, inhaling the nostalgia before curiosity finally got the best of me, the devil on my shoulder urging me to peek into Miles’ room.

Splayed across the bed was his massive frame, and from what I could tell, he was still deeply asleep.

He must’ve gotten down to just his boxers before slipping into bed, and the majority of his body was left on display.

Nickname aside, Miles truly was built like a lumberjack.

Not the ones on the cover of magazines with washboard abs, which to their credit were gorgeous, but a genuine woodsman who I could only describe as strong, but soft.

His arms were defined and muscular, I’m sure from all the physical labor, but his middle was free from definition, delightfully inviting.

When I looked past his physique, though, I could see his wear.

His eyes were dark and his hands calloused, a rite of passage for most in this line of work.

The speed at which he folded to my demands still worried me, regardless of how common it was in the field, and I couldn’t help but wonder how often he ran himself into the ground, pushing himself past empty, allowing himself just enough rest to wake up and turn on autopilot.

At that moment, I vowed to help relieve some of the burden. I knew I couldn’t go through another sale. It would irrevocably break me to see my childhood continuously handed off from person to person, and if guarding Miles’ success was the price, I’d gladly pay up.

After making a mental note to harass him about his self-maintenance, I slipped on my boots and headed towards the barn, leaving sleeping beauty to rest. With Blossom already fed, I was able to make my way straight to the parlor, and for the first time in over three years I jumped down into the milking trench.

The ergonomic design always left me in awe, its curation a life saving innovation that protected the backs of millions.

Being below the herd allowed for teats to land around eye level for people my height and around chest level for my father and Miles.

I remember the day it was installed my father walked to the house standing just a little bit taller.

Over time, his slightly hunched posture straightened more and more, granting him years of mobility, which he nobly squandered teaching me everything I know.

So often I ignored the improvements my parents implemented, rolling my eyes at what I thought was overkill, but as I looked back, I realized more and more was done with my future in mind.

I hooked up the milking claws to the first set of cows, stepping back after all six were comfortably milking to allow myself to be in awe of the process, watching as the liquid gold traveled the lines into the bulk tank.

This is how the world received their dairy, such a simple process powering such a complex portion of the world.

I took pride in that my entire life, recalling all the times my father would slip in a pep talk while we were waiting in between sets.

“Remember the cows that power this industry are female. The world doesn’t give enough credit where it’s due. You can influence it all the same.”

I smiled recalling the empowerment he’d instilled in me, another thing I seemed to have forgotten throughout the years.

Once the girls were good and emptied, I removed the claws, cleaning each set of teats with iodine before lifting the gate for the current group to exit, before allowing the following to take their spots.

One thing about milking cows was that it was monotonous, and if you didn’t lock them up tight, all the thoughts and feelings that you thought were secured deep down would trickle up to the surface, and unfortunately for me, I’d been out of the game for a while and my key was nowhere to be found.

I breezed through the milking, embracing the dangerous peace it brought my mind, allowing my thoughts free rein instead of the suppression I’d grown fond of.

The familiar motion was all it took to trigger memory after memory, and I spent the majority of my time unintentionally unearthing the good that I’d forgotten.

In the time it took me to milk, I’d already allowed myself more forgiveness than I’d managed the past three years.

Evidently, crediting my parents for all the things they did provide for me forced me to tilt the scale, opening my eyes to which side held the most weight.And I walked back to the house with a lightness I hadn’t felt grace my body in a long time, a newfound confidence humming under my skin.

I kicked off my boots, padding to the kitchen to sneak another cup of coffee, and when I walked past Miles’ cracked door, I heard the faint sound of the shower running.

Although the guestroom bathroom had a door of its own, I closed the exterior door to the bedroom for added privacy.

Our encounters were never dull and in order to stay on my productive roll, I needed to be without distraction, which included avoiding accidental naked run-ins.

Fully expecting to scale the mountain of documents, I chugged my coffee before making my way to the dining table, but instead of the disaster I remembered, I was greeted with sorted piles littered about.

I grinned to myself, realizing the lumberjack’s exhaustion probably stemmed at least partially from the effort I was admiring.

As I identified each pile, a slight pang of regret creeped through me, settling heavily in my gut as I realized the immensity of the task I’d accepted.

I was gonna need more coffee.

Engulfed in the largest pile, I hadn’t noticed the water shut off, and my eyes briefly rose from my work when I heard Miles walk out of his bedroom door.

He was donned in a mere towel, and panic ensued when he didn’t notice me sitting at the table, instead walking straight to the coffeemaker, pouring himself a cup before turning around.

“Shit!” He jumped, causing his towel to slip just slightly, revealing the deep channeling below his hips.

“Oh god” I mumbled, ducking my head back into the piles of papers .

“Why didn’t you say anything?” He chuckled, and as I peeked through the stack, I watched as he set his coffee on the counter, readjusting his towel back to a more appropriate level.

“Why did you traipse out here when you knew you were having company? I closed your door!”

“My company is early,” he growled.

His comment stirred something in me. Maybe it was his tone of voice or maybe it was the stubborn woman inside me, but I refused to cower to a half naked man.

I sat up straight, no longer hiding the looks I’d been stealing moments ago, allowing my attention to trail from his bare feet upwards until my own gaze settled back to his face.

I couldn’t help but mirror the fire engulfing his own eyes when I finally spoke.

“I apologize that my efficiency put us in such a predicament.”

“Are you going to do anything about it?” he grumbled, gripping the counter as if the moment he let go he’d do something about it himself.

I took my time deciding, taking in the way his veins coiled around his arms as his grip continued to tighten.

“No,” I finally huffed, “I’m busy.”

A deep laugh escaped him as he propelled himself off the counter.

“Very well.”

Still smirking, he made his way slowly across the kitchen until all I could see was the large expanse of his back disappearing into his bedroom.

As soon as he was out of sight, I got up, briskly making my way to the kitchen sink to splash cold water on my face.

After patting it dry on a hand towel I poured myself a glass of water attempting to quench my sudden thirst. I had so much to do and although the distractions were entertaining, I needed to avoid them today if I wanted to get anything done .

Settling back at the table, I picked up the first paper again.

A registration. While not technically necessary, registering each cow was an official way to keep track of lineage and ownership, but it seemed as if that wasn’t the case for any calf born here in the past three years.

All the registrations were incomplete, most including just the calf’s name and ear tag number.

Though, as I thumbed through the pile, I saw some included the parent’s names, others just the mother, and some with both parents but no corresponding numbers.

I set the paper down, realizing I’d have to leaf through records playing detective, and even then I’d probably need a miracle to find the information I needed beneath the mess.

As I sorted through this conclusion, Miles emerged from his room, thankfully fully clothed this time, and as he made his way next to me at the table, the smell of pine hit my nose. I choked on the irony, silently chuckling to myself. Of course, the lumberjack smelled like a forest.

“Do you have free time today?” I asked, knowing that I needed the answer to be yes.