Page 20 of Till The Cows Come Home

Chapter Seventeen

Miles

I woke up just before four, which was precisely where the normality of my routine ended.

A gorgeous woman was still fast asleep next to me, and I felt my chest hum, as if the optimism I’d lost had finally been located.

In an instant, Sage had consumed me, filling the cracks of my fractured mentality.

It took everything in me not to crawl back into bed, to deny myself the comfort I knew would embrace me the moment I laid back down with her, but the farm ceased for no one.

No matter how desperate I may be to press pause, to reward myself with a few extra moments, outside these walls was a whole other world counting on me to be there.

I crept into the kitchen, careful not to make any noise as I retrieved two cups, placing them by the coffeemaker.

And as I waited for the pot to fill, I couldn't help but notice the somewhat, but not completely cleared, table, its organized chaos filling me with a slight panic, as if I was forgetting something.

Once my cup was filled, I made my way over to the papers, determined to keep my vow to stay on top of things.

The calf calendar was closest to me, and when I opened it to the correct month, I noticed the big circle around Blossom’s name in today’s square.

She was due to be weaned from the bottle today, and I cursed myself for not keeping a better track of the schedule.

I practically ran to the barn, knowing that I had less than an hour before Sage’s own internal clock stirred her awake.

The initial disappointment of Sage’s absence from the barn was erased as I remembered she was tucked cozily in my bed, but Blossom’s head still peeked over the stall door, nudging the air with excitement for the breakfast she eagerly expected from me.

“Sorry sweetheart, you’re moving with the big kids this morning. No more bottles. You're a bucket baby now.”

She was clearly unimpressed, and it was obvious she wasn’t interested in my company if I had no intention of providing her with breakfast. I needed her, though, and as I entered her stall, she eagerly nudged at my hands, forcing me to drop the measuring tape I’d brought with me.

“Excuse me, miss. I’m going to need you to cooperate. Sage is coming out soon and then you can have your breakfast, but the longer you fight with me, the longer it will be until you eat.”

Retrieving the tape, I roughly measured around her head, scribbling down a rough estimate of its circumference.

Using a glue gun before the sun rose was usually bad news, but apparently this morning I was spared, satisfaction coursing through me as I stepped back to appreciate my craft.

After some final tweaks, I set it on the bench, scratching Blossom’s head as I left to wake Sage.

When I walked through the front door, I was relieved to see all the lights off, save for the small stove light still illuminating from when I made my coffee.

I followed the tiny beacon, hopeful that Sage had been able to stay asleep while I was gone.

Her mug was still untouched, so I filled it before cracking the door to my bedroom.

My heart warmed at the sight of her still curled up fast asleep, covers pulled up to her chin, and I loathed the thought of waking her. The least I could do was make it enjoyable, so I began planting short kisses along her cheeks and neck, chuckling as she playfully swatted me away.

“Good morning, Sage Baker.”

“Good morning, sexy lumberjack,” she grumbled, voice still laden with sleep.

My swarms of kisses continued until Sage looped her arms around my neck, attempting to pull me back into bed with her.

“As much as I would love to climb back in and ravish you until the sun rises, I cannot. We have very important business to attend to this morning.”

“What business happens at four thirty in the morning, Miles?”

“Graduation ceremonies,” I whispered, nibbling playfully on her ear.

I handed her the still steaming cup of coffee in an attempt to smooth her displeasure, and she sipped as my words settled into her mind.

“Graduation party? No one throws a graduation party prior to like…noon. What are you up to?”

“You’ll see.” I winked. “I got your spare clothes from your truck. They’re in the bathroom. Get dressed and I’ll meet you in the barn.”

Before I stood to leave, I leaned in, kissing her on her forehead before retreating to the porch where I’d stashed my supplies.

I’d unearthed an old bottle of champagne but wasn’t lucky enough to uncover any flutes, so mason jars were going to have to suffice.

While Sage put on her clothes, I headed to the barn to prepare our party.

When I approached the calf, she was momentarily pleased, noticing the bottle peeking from the box of things I carried. She couldn’t quite differentiate her bottle from ours, and as I unpacked the champagne, I felt a pang of guilt at the calf’s confusion.

“Sorry, sweetheart, this isn’t for you.”

Luckily for her I was always equipped with pocket cookies, and I offered her one as a peace offering.

Blossom eagerly took it from my hand and I used the distraction as an opportunity to fashion the hat I’d crafted earlier onto her head.

Sage’s footsteps creaked towards me just as I was clipping on Blossom’s halter, and when she rounded the corner, I stood proudly with the graduate at my side.

“Oh. My. God. You did not,” Sage squealed, which I expected. What I didn’t plan for were the handful of tears that began to fall.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“Happy tears,” she proclaimed, before taking the lead rope from me. “Please tell me I’m seeing this right. How did you make a graduation cap out of a pizza box? And you glued bailing twine as the tassel! This is amazing.”

“You would be correct. I thought our girl deserved a proper sendoff. Today’s the big day.”

“This is so ridiculous. We’re ridiculous.” She laughed, wiping away the moisture that had settled on her cheeks. “Hundreds of calves have been bottle fed in this barn and moved to buckets without the blink of the eye.”

“Hundreds of calves didn’t bring me to you.”

“Remember when I said your charm wouldn’t get you anywhere in life?” she asked, looking up at me with her big blue eyes.

“I believe you specifically said that my charm would get me nowhere near you,” I teased, leaning down to meet her lips, stopping right before contact.

“I lied,” she whispered.

Before our lips could meet, Blossom tugged the lead rope, dragging Sage to the feed bins where the powdered milk replacer was stored.

“You little brat, you’re supposed to wait until it’s actually mixed with water.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight of Sage dragging Blossom to the older calves’ pen, graduation cap still somehow affixed to the top of her head.

I knew better than to intervene, deciding instead to help with the gate.

Sage held onto Blossom, reluctant to let go, but just when I thought she was going to turn around and lead her back to her stall, she reached out, moving the tassel to the right.

“You’re a big girl now. Go be with your friends,” she mumbled into Blossom's snout, kissing it briefly before removing the makeshift hat and turning her loose.

“Let's feed them before she organizes a mutiny,” I joked.

Laughing through more tears, Sage followed me, scooping powder into each bucket while I followed behind, mixing in the warm water.

As we hung the buckets, each calf lined up, but Blossom hovered, unsure.

Stopping myself from explaining a situation I’m sure Sage had seen a million times, I stepped back, allowing her to take the lead, and just as I suspected, without missing a single beat, Sage stepped forward, hand outstretched.

Blossom immediately approached her, and when Sage wiggled her fingers the calf instinctively took them in her mouth, suckling.

Slowly, Sage lowered her hand into the bucket and when Blossom's nose touched the milk replacer, she let go of the fingers, slurping instead from the bucket.

“Works every time,” she mumbled, scratching each calf’s head. When she spun around, she noticed my slightly enamored gaze fixed on her.

“What?”

“You’re extraordinary.”

Closing the distance between us, I wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling her until her body was against my own.

“Because I let a cow suck on my fingers?”

“Don’t do that,” I warned.

“Do what?”

“Don’t act like you didn’t work your ass off to learn everything you know.

Yes, you’re extraordinary because you let a cow suck your fingers.

Because of that knowledge, she's no longer hungry. Not every farmer cares enough to take the time, some just let them figure it out on their own. They appreciate your kindness and so do I.”

“It’s so hard to act like it was all worth it when I spent the last three years telling myself the opposite.”

“You did what you had to to keep your head above water, but you don’t have to do that anymore. Not with me.”

She didn’t respond, and a few moments passed by before she stepped forward, grabbing a bucket from in front of us.

She planted it in front of me and before I could process what was happening, she stepped up, grabbing each side of my face before clashing her lips into mine.

Every moment that passed was another unexpressed thought being passed through her touch.

I’m scared. I don’t want to lose this. What if I fail?

I felt all these unsaid proclamations, and met them with tenderness, attempting to pass on a message of my own.

You can do anything.

The frenzied embrace slowed, calmness replacing the panic, until eventually she pulled away.

“Thank you,” she whispered, resting her forehead against my own.

Still eye level, I reached out, tucking an unruly curl that had escaped her ponytail.

“I like your bucket.”

Rolling her eyes, she stepped down .

“If you weren’t a mountain of a man, I wouldn’t need to climb a bucket.”

“Touche. Unfortunately, my little mountain climber, if you don’t leave soon, you’ll be late to work.”

“Shit.” Checking her phone, she confirmed the time, quickly scrambling to step back onto the bucket.

“Get over here,” I grumbled, scooping her under her ass until her feet left the ground, a small nudge of my foot sending the bucket rolling across the floor of the barn. “If I’m doing things right, you’ll never need that damn bucket again.”