Page 30 of Jack Raider

“Thank you. Now I have to give a bull an enema.”

“I wondered if that was Tony’s truck out there. I’m going to say hello to that handsome hunk.

“You can say hello, but that handsome hunk is mine,” Jenny said.

“He is? Dang, there is another one I didn’t get. I don’t understand why I can’t find someone of my own. Is there something wrong with me?”

“Allison, there is nothing wrong with you. You are beautiful. One day, you will find someone to love you, and only you.” I said.

“Thank you, now I won’t stop and say hello since I can’t make a pass at him. I’ll see you guys around.”

“Jenny, you can go to the back with me and see what happens when a bull gets stopped up.”

“Why would I want to see that?”

“So you can help your husband when he is a large animal vet.”

“Let’s go,” Jenny said.

13

Jack

I don’t knowwhat I expected when I agreed to come out to Eloise’s place on a Friday evening, but giving a bull an enema wasn’t it.

“Just stand over there and don’t get in the way,” she said, pointing toward a safe-ish looking spot beside the barn. Her hair was in a messy bun, sunglasses perched on her head like she was about to hit the beach, not stick her arm up a bull’s behind. Honestly, I admired the confidence.

Tony Thompson stood nearby, red-faced and sweating through his T-shirt. “Are you sure about this? He’s usually regular,” he said, eyeing the bull like it had betrayed him.

Eloise crossed her arms. “Tony, the bull is bloated. He’s miserable, pacing like he’s holding in a two-day burrito. And I told you—I don’t do large animal work anymore.”

“Right, right,” Tony mumbled, then glanced over at me. “Who’s he again?”

“I’m just the boyfriend,” I said. “Spectator. I’m not licensed to touch bull butts, thanks.”

Eloise smirked, pulled on a long plastic glove, and handed another one to Tony. “Good. Then you can watch whileTonydoes it.”

Tony blinked. “Me?”

“It’syourbull,” Eloise said sweetly. “You want him to feel better? It’s time to give him the ol’ firehose flush.”

I wish I could say I looked away. I didn’t. Curiosity, morbid fascination, and a twisted sense of entertainment rooted me to the spot. That, and Eloise subtly blocked the exit with her body. That woman could stare down a tornado.

Tony whimpered. I mean,whimperedlike a beagle that lost its bone.

“Just lube the nozzle, insert gently, and hold on tight,” Eloise coached, handing him what looked like a medieval torture device disguised as a hose with a tank attached. “And whatever you do—don’t stand behind him.”

Guess where Tony stood?

The bull—let’s call him Ferdinand because he looked offended by everything—let out a sound that I swear translated toI don’t consent to this.

“I don’t think he likes me now,” Tony said.

“None of us like you right now, but that doesn’t stop the job from needing to get done,” Eloise replied, checking her watch. “We’re on a tight poop schedule.”

The moment Tony inserted the hose, Ferdinand made a sound that came from the depths of cow hell and kicked one hoof. Then—then—the floodgates opened.

I should’ve moved. Ishould’vemoved.

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