Page 9 of Dairy and Deadly

A knock on her window made her jolt. She swung her head toward the sound and discovered Johnny himself standing outside her door.

She cracked the window open. “Hi.”

“Hey, you.” He gave a low whistle as his gaze traveled down the side of her Camaro. “Nice car!”

“Thanks!” He opened the door for her, and she stepped out without bothering to tell him the car was currently doubling as her home. “Are you ready to give me that tour you promised?”

He gave her a cocky grin. “I was born ready, darling.”

Her eyes widened with humor. “I think I’ve heard that line before.”Only a thousand times.

He looked unperturbed by her assessment. “In my case, it’s true.” He angled his head toward the barn she was parked directly in front of, beckoning her to follow him. “According to my dad, I rode my first mutton at the age of two.”

A lamb? How cute!“Impressive,” she murmured and meant it. She had no earthly idea what she’d been doing at that age and didn’t have a smooth enough relationship with her dad at the moment to ask, though she suddenly wanted to.

“Glad you think so.” Johnny winked at her. “Because I happen to be trying to impress you, Ash.”

Uh-oh!Though her insides warmed over the nickname he’d come up with, she scrambled for a pithy comeback that would discourage any further flirting on his part. “Not sure why you’re in such a lather about impressing an out-of-work police officer. Most people wouldn’t bother.”

He gave her an incredulous look. “I’m not most people.”

No, he definitely was not. “We just met,” she reminded gently. “For all you know, I’m a washed-up has-been.”

He quirked one eyebrow at her. “Darling, I’m a country boy who cut his teeth on rodeo dust and made it to the top on sheer guts and determination. I learned to read people along the way, almost as well as I can read animals. So, I’m telling it to you straight when I say you’re as far from a has-been as they come.” His rumbly baritone made her heart race like a rebound lap across a basketball court. However, she tamped down on the feeling as he led her to a side door and held it open for her.

“Thanks for saying that.” Though she didn’t mean to, their arms brushed in passing. Trying to ignore the way his nearness made her pulse continue to race, she changed the subject. “I assume I’m allowed to ask questions on this tour?”

“Yup.” He looked pleased by the request.

“Okay, Wyoming Boy, here’s my first one. How many cows do you own? I lost count outside.”

His chuckle surrounded her, warming her from her head to her toes. “Just shy of two fifty, including calves. We milk over two hundred.”

As he pulled the door shut, she gazed around them. The barn looked bigger on the inside than it had on the outside. They were facing a long concrete walkway littered with hay. It stretched between two equally long gated areas. There were nearly as many cows standing behind the gates as there had been in the pastures outside. All of these, however, were full grown Holsteins. There wasn’t a calf in sight inside the building.

“Wow!” She slowly dragged out the word, trying to absorb the vastness of the place.

“Welcome to the milking parlor.” Johnny gestured at the perfectly lined up rows of dairy cows. He motioned for her to step closer to the row on the right and proceeded to point out the milking machines and refrigeration equipment, taking the time to explain how each item worked.

“Wow, Johnny!” At the risk of sounding like a woman with a narrow vocabulary,wowwas the only word she could come up with to describe the operation. “This is fascinating.” Her gaze darted up and down the rows.

“As you can see,” Johnny continued in the same rumbly voice, “I run a humane facility. My herd grazes outside, enjoys the fresh air and sunshine, and nurses their own offspring.”

Ashley wrinkled her forehead at him. “Are you saying the mama cows make enough milk to nurse their babiesandproduce their milk quota at the same time?”

“Yep.” He jimmied with one of the pieces of equipment to tighten down a cord. “It’s called calf-sharing. Not only does it make the cows happier, it saves me the trouble of bottle feeding an army of calves. Most of them, anyway.”

He excitedly waved her onward through a side door. They stepped into a much smaller adjoining room. To her delight, three calves were frolicking around a pile of hay. A fourth one was curled up asleep in a corner of the room.

“Oh!” Her gloved hands flew to her mouth, making her wince from the resulting pulling sensation in her left shoulder.

“You okay?” Johnny’s gaze darkened with concern as he raked her features.

“Yeah. Just still healing.” It was taking longer than she’d expected. “No shoulder punching on this side yet, please.” She flexed her arm a few times, trying to work out the soreness, but it only made it worse. She blamed it on the biting cold temperature outside.

“Duly noted.” Still looking concerned, he moved across the room and pulled one of the biggest baby bottles she’d ever seen from a shelf. He twisted off the lid and held it up to a spout against the wall to fill it. “How are your calf feeding skills, city girl?”

She burst out laughing. “Nonexistent, but how hard can it be?”

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