Page 29 of The First Day of Breeding Season
“I’ve been listening to bulls in the summer pasture for twenty-four years.”
Oh. Right.
“He’s probably smelling the rain. He might not even join the herd until tomorrow morning, but once he does, he’ll be busy, don’t worry.”
I try not to smile, because I worry that a smile might disrupt the roll he’s on, sharing more than I was even hoping for.
But it doesn’t stop him.
Drew Lowry is a breeding nerd, and I’m so here for it. “As for Ten Gallon…” He paces out from under the tarp a bit, letting a few drops of rain hit him as he takes a better look at the herd. Then he shifts back again, this time a little closer to me. “I need to observe him for libido. How he reacts to the cows who are fertile. He’s showing promise already, though. You’ll get some great observation days out of him.”
“Good,” I whisper.
He looks my way, but…above me.
I back up and push up on my toes.
His gaze lifts a little further.
I roll my eyes and he doesn’t even notice! He just keeps talking about the bulls, and I love it all. The rain rolls in, so he has to come closer still so I can hear him over the drumbeat on the tarp overhead, but his gaze stays resolutely anywhere but locking onto mine.
When I run out of questions, we stand side by side in silence. Not unlike how the cows are huddled together just below us in the pasture.
Oh, Drew. Why won’t you look at me? Are you so afraid of what you’ll see?
CHAPTER 14
DREW
The questions still radiate off Brynn even when she goes silent.
She’s so fucking eager. And sweet. And smart.
And Blade’s little girl.
I don’t know how to square that with the aching need I have to claim her and make her mine.
If only we were animals, it wouldn’t be this complicated.
In some ways, we’re part of the same herd. There are so many threads of connection between us. Her father was my mentor. My brother was her favorite professor.
I should be more comfortable just guiding her in life. Letting her find a future worthy of all of her potential. A young husband, a dozen kids.
She doesn’t want a husband. She wants a donor.
I open my mouth to…what? Ask her if she wants kids? Confess that I accidentally saw the letter in her research folder? Offer to breed her myself, but on the condition that she never leave my bed?
Definitely not that one. I can’t say that one.
But she has another question, and the opportunity is gone.
“Why can’t you look at me?”
“I can,” I say carefully.
“You aren’t.”
Fair point. I grunt in acknowledgement.
