Page 34 of High Density

“I’ve been thinking about what you said last Saturday. About falling back into old patterns. Well, I’m breaking them. I’m done getting stuck in the middle. If Una wants to fix things, she shouldn’t be calling me, she should be calling Ma.”

He’s right, she should. Still, it’s clearly not easy for him to ignore her, he’s been looking out for her for so long.

“It may take her a while to clue into the fact expectations have changed,” I offer tentatively. “But maybe if you communicate it to her. You don’t have to talk to her, but there are other ways to convey the message. If the new rules aren’t made clear to her, you’re just setting her up to fail.”

For a moment I wonder if I’m overstepping—I probably am, but sometimes it’s easier to see the big picture when you’re on the outside of a conflict—but then the corner of his mouth pulls up in a lopsided smile. One that makes the butterflies in my stomach dance.

“You’re wise.”

“It comes with age,” is my response.

At some point over the past few days, I’ve come to realize I’m more than a couple of years older than JD. I think it may have been last Saturday at his parents’ house there’d been some mention of a four-year difference between JD and Una. I know he stated later that night his sister is thirty, but for some reason—maybe the drama playing out was too distracting—I didn’t immediately put the two together.

I’m four years his senior, and I’m trying hard not to let that fall on the insecure side of my character. I’ve been trying to focus on the fact he’s known about our age difference since our Mexican picnic at the riverside, and he hadn’t even kissed me yet then. He doesn’t seem bothered, so why should I be?

Still, I can’t resist putting it out there.

He takes a step closer and slips his arms around me, pulling me close so I’m plastered against his front. There is no mistaking the hard length of him pressing against my lower belly.

“Wisdom is a major turn-on,” he shares, his dark eyes swirling with surprising heat. “Everything about you is, which is why I’m dealing with a permanent hard-on anytime I’m around you.” He rolls his hips, making it impossible to ignore the significance of his words.

A pathetically needy whimper escapes me. It feels like I’ve been craving a more carnal connection with him than the admittedly excellent kisses for days. It’s left me with a deep ache—a gnawing hunger—that is causing me restless nights.

“Yes,” I whisper, pressing my lips to the hollow at the base of his throat, where I can feel his heart beating.

“Later,” he promises. “When I don’t have a dump run to make, and you don’t have a horse and a dog to feed, as well as a few truckloads of cattle waiting to be cleared.”

“Spoilsport,” I groan, making him chuckle.

“Nah, just something to look forward to.”

He lays a hard kiss on me before tipping his hat and getting into his truck. I watch him roll down the driveway, passing Frankie in her Jimmy who is just arriving. I give her a wave before heading inside to grab Ginger and drop her off at the clinic where Frankie can feed her.

JD showed up here early this morning, so we could load up the old tub, toilet, and vanity from the master bathroom. I’d been too tired last night to be of any help, and aside from that, the landfill was already closed. This coming weekend we’re supposed to head to the Home Depot in Kalispell to buy my new bathroom.

I’m feeling a little guilty over all the time he’s spending at my house, but he swears up and down it’s what he likes to do, work with his hands. A lot of it is stuff I intended to tackle myself, even though I have no idea how to lay a subfloor or tile or hook up a new faucet. I guess I’ve been a little blinded by the numerous home improvement shows I’ve been watching on TV. They make it look so easy, and I figured I could watch some DIY YouTube videos to learn.

Maybe after the rodeo, I’ll have some more time and energy to invest in my to-do list.

“Come on, girl. You’re going to hang out with Frankie and Red today.”

Ginger has become quite agile with her cast. It doesn’t seem to be slowing her down much anymore. Last night after dinner, JD was even throwing a ball for her in the backyard. I still don’t have a fence, but as JD predicted, Ginger didn’t make any effort to take off. Regardless where she came from, she knows she has a good life here.

I leave Ginger in Frankie’s good care, and she also promises to look in on Red, who I found moping around his stall. He’s used to being around lots of other animals and I bet he’s lonely here, which is something else I need to think about.

It’s not until I get behind the wheel, I start feeling a little anxiety for the day ahead. Yesterday’s confrontation with Mackey was not something I care to repeat. Not that he scares me—I think he’s more bluster than substance—but I hope to heed Phil Jericho’s advice, and avoid him all the same.

Instead of parking at the trailer and walking over to the stockyard, I drive straight there when I pull into the grounds and see two large trucks have already arrived. It’s only eight twenty, so they’re earlier than expected.

I’m relieved to see Logan’s pickup already there. He’d called in last night to ask what time he should be here, so I wasn’t expecting him until nine thirty. He’s way early, which I suspect has something to do with his excitement about the rodeo in general. He’s been lapping it up these past two days. I don’t care about the motivation, I’m just glad he’s here, so we can get an early start.

I park my truck next to his and go in search of him. Unfortunately, it’s Mackey I bump into first. He’s just coming out of the rear of one of the trucks. He seems surprised to see me at first, then his expression quickly morphs into anger, but he doesn’t say a word as he ducks back out of sight. I see movementinside through the ventilation holes and can hear urgent voices. A moment later he appears again, this time ignoring me as he comes down the narrow loading ramp and brushes past me. Then he stalks off to the impromptu campground set up behind the livestock pens. It’s where Mackey and his employees, as well as some of the contestants, parked their RVs.

Curious, I walk over to the back of the massive trailer. Each of these probably holds anywhere from thirty to fifty head of cattle. When I start up the ramp, I recognize one of Mackey’s hands along with Logan standing among the cows. It’s not exactly safe, it wouldn’t be the first time someone got trampled and seriously injured in a situation like this.

“What are you doing?” I ask sharply, drawing the men’s attention.

“One of the cows is sick and went down,” Logan answers. “We’re trying to make sure she doesn’t get crushed by the others.”

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