Page 12 of Alive and Wells

“Thank God, you’re here. My feet are swollen, and my back is killing me. Can you take over vaccines for a bit?” Kate stretches her arms overhead with a groan.

“Of course.” I hesitantly nod as I watch her inject a calf laid up on the dusty ground. I’m not actually sure I can take over, or even whether I want to. Saying no to a pregnant woman who’s been busting her ass all morning isn’t an option, though. Almost more importantly, I don’t need anybody—like Austin—thinking I’m a useless city girl. “Just show me how and then go rest.”

The device looks surprisingly similar to a tattoo gun, and the hardest part of using it is working up the nerve to jab the needle into a wriggling calf’s shoulder. The jolting pop reverberates in my hand as the needle presses through the thick hide. It sends a shiver up my spine, and I swallow down my tears. I’m not sure why this isn’t a job for a vet but, given the primitive way this ranch seems to do everything, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised it’s not.

Jackson appears next to me with the hot branding iron, placing it firmly on the calf’s side. Thick smoke blurs my vision, making my eyes water, and the smell of burning hair has saliva pooling in my throat as I stagger backward; careful not to get anywhere near the blistering steel. After watching the first two shots I administer, Kate gives me an approving smile and starts toward the fence.

“Doing great, City Girl,” Colt teases as he releases the contraption that helps hold the calf in place. He always has a warm, albeit somewhat flirtatious, smile when he talks to me. And he talks to me every chance he gets. He goes in for a high-five and my hand smacks loudly against the soft leather of his glove, creating a dust cloud that glitters in the sunlight.

I can do this.Warmed by pride, I take a step back.

“Hey, no!” A booming voice cuts through the noise, stopping everyone in their tracks. I swear even the cattle are startled enough to quiet down. “She’s not helping.”

6

Austin

Aburningelectricalcurrentswoops through my veins as I watch Cecily and Colt interact. It’s not a matter of jealousy. Exactly as expected, these damn men are too horny to focus on doing their job. With close to 5,000 calves to brand this week, they can’t be distracted. I charge forward, weaving between cattle with the expertise that comes from thirty-seven years around them.

“She doesn’t know the first thing about vaccinating and when she fucks it up, we’ll be shit out of luck for at least two weeks, until Tate can bring more in.”

“I showed her how. She’s got this,” Kate yells back from the fence.

“She’s done a couple without issue. I think it’s fine, man. Kate needs a break, so unless you want to come do it yourself, you need to relax and let her try,” Jackson says. Naturally, he’s going to agree with his wife.

A grumble rattles through my chest.

“You mad she’s doing a better job than you can, Aus?” Colt chides, reaching out to poke me in the ribs. I grab his hand, yanking it until his fingers all but break before letting go. He shakes off the pain with a hearty laugh.

“I’m not about to be sued when she breaks her foot because she wore sneakers for branding.”

“Damn, girly. He’s right about that. You need to get yourself a pair of shitkickers,” Colt agrees. “It’s no fun having these fuckers step on your toes without ’em. Ask me how I know.”

My eyes narrow at him. “Don’t you have a job to do?”

“She can borrow mine.” Kate struggles to pull the cowboy boots over her swollen ankles.

For the next twenty minutes, I do nothing but watch Cecily work. The irony isn’t lost on me—I stormed over here because I was worried she was distracting my employees, only to become sidetracked myself. Within the first five minutes, I knew she had the process figured out and wasn’t going to screw it up.

Now I’m watching for purely selfish reasons, ignoring the voice telling me I shouldn’t. I’m nothing if not a simple man, no better than the rest. I can’t help but notice the tiny sliver of exposed lower back, and the way her ass strains against her jeans when she bends over.Standing up, she wipes beaded sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, and a smile lights her face. Cecily might be the one person on Earth who finds joy in the most boring part of branding.

Quit staring at her, idiot.I can’t. Or maybe I don’t want to.

The sun highlights her every movement with an angelic glow. Her jeans and t-shirt are coated in dirt, which clouds around her as her palms skate across her thighs. Her blonde hair’s pulled back in a tight bun and covered with a Wells Ranch baseball cap, and her bare arms are already lightly tanned from the hours she’s spent in the garden. To an outsider, she might look like she belongs here.

Beryl’s lunchtime whistle snaps me from my trance, and I finally get the nerve to look away from Cecily. But not before her eyes meet mine through her thick eyelashes. A smile slips across her face that feels meant for me alone, and it’s so contagious, I can’t help but return it.

It’s no use being annoyed at the boys for acting friendly with her over lunch. I understand that. I can’t exactly tell them what to do during their off time, although I’d love to try right about now.

It’s also not fair to be annoyed over her wanting to sit with them. I’m not delusional enough to think she’d join me, even if she does typically sit directly across from me at the kitchen table. I’ve been nothing but an asshole because I’m not sure hownotto be under the circumstances. City girls love to visit the ranch, pretend they’re living an episode ofYellowstone, and then take off as soon as things stop being exciting. I’ve been burned by more than one woman who wasn’t really in it for the long haul. And every time I walk away less myself.

The problem is, I can’t stop looking at her. And I’m having a real hard time reminding myself that I would be doing everybody a favour by pushing her out of here sooner rather than later. Then my guys won’t spend every spare moment trying to get her to look at them, and neither will I.

“Since we’re making good time today, I think we should give Cecily a little show in exchange for her hard work,” Denny announces between bites. “See, we use Nordforks to help wrangle the calves now, because it’s efficient and easier on our bodies when we’re doing four hundred or more daily. But the real fun is when we get them to the ground by hand. That’s the true cowboy shit.”

My baby brother looks to me for approval and I give a sullen nod, despite this being exactly the show-off, horny cowboy shit I’m concerned about. He’s right about making good time and the day isn’t unbearably hot, so there’s no real need to rush. Sometimes it’s just easiest for everybody if I let the guys have their fun.

“Hell yeah,” Red shouts. “Just you wait, Cecily. Maybe the old boss man here will even show you how he used to do it back in his rodeo days.”

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