Chapter
Sixteen
Sawyer
Seriously, who can’t turn down adorable baby animals? Me, apparently. I followed Soren back to his house, and we loaded up on his UTV with the promise of seeing multiple baby calves.
“How many will there be?” I asked as I sat on the UTV.
“It’s near the end of calving season. I’m checking on them to make sure everyone is good, but as of yesterday, there were fifty-three in this pasture.”
“Fifty-three babies!” I squeaked in excitement.
He laughed as he reached around me, and I involuntarily stiffened, unsure of what he was doing. He paused, searching my eyes as he grasped the seat belt strap.
“Oh, I was going to get it,” I wheezed out. His nearness made me feel like I couldn’t take a full breath.
My hand brushed his, and a zing ran through my body. What was that? I fastened the buckle into place and found my chain again to settle my nerves.
“Always wear a seatbelt, Pretty Girl.” The weight of his words stopped me.
“I always do,” I responded.
He nodded. I wished I could read him better. His face wasn’t expressive in big ways, but there were micro expressions, like a slight lift of an eyebrow, that could be missed if you weren’t watching closely.
Soren was all square jawline and stubble.
He turned on the key in the ignition and some archaic version of wailing country music began playing from the speakers on the dash.
“What is this? Do you listen to old people’s country music?” That was surprising. He coughed out a laugh.
“Old people country music?” he finally snorted out in mock offense, one of his perfect eyebrows quirking.
“Yeah . . . ” There was something about being in this place that made me feel free and more lighthearted.
“These are the classics,” he spoke with exaggerated reverence and then turned to smile at me while he made a turn.
“Wow. I never figured you for old people’s music . . . ” I tipped my head, biting back a smile.
“You don’t even know my age. Maybe I am old,” he reasoned, still smiling. His hazel eyes danced with mirth.
“According to your taste in music?” I tapped my finger on my chin and tipped my head. “Ninety-eight?” I guessed. He scoffed, grinning.
“Thirty-three.” His hands flexed on the steering wheel.
“See! Too young for old people’s music.” I reasoned with a smile.
“Alright, for this blasphemy I’m going to teach you all about the classics!” he declared.
For the next twenty minutes, we talked about all things music. I told him that I enjoyed the newer country style, which he asserted wasn’t even country, it was pop. I enjoyed our back and forth teasing because it made me relax before I even realized it. The stress of the week melted away. He made me stop over-analyzing everything and completely be in the moment. All the muscles that were tight from stress relaxed, and I enjoyed seeing glimpses of his world.
We entered a field with dozens of cows and calves. The smile on my face was somewhat ridiculous, but I couldn’t stop it. The calves were fuzzy and adorable. There was a calf that was freshly born. It was still stumbling around, learning to walk on wobbly legs. The cows mostly ignored us as we drove except for a few that raised their large heads to see what we were up to. I brought my hands together under my chin in excitement.
“Do they have names?”
“They have ear tags. There’s too many to name.” He gestured toward a particularly cute calf.
“Everyone deserves a name!”
“Have at it, but good luck trying to remember them all.” He smiled and gestured toward the herd. He did have a point.
“Hmmm . . . maybe I can name one cow and one calf?” I observed them for a moment, deciding which pair I should choose.
“That would be easier to keep track of.” He pulled out an iPad from the glove box and began noting information on the herd.
“Hmmm. Which one has the best personality?” I asked.
His laugh made my insides all tingly.
“ Wellllll . . . , ” he drawled, as though he’d never considered it in those terms. “That one is a decent mama cow. She always raises good calves.” He pointed the stylus from his iPad toward a beautiful red and white cow with what resembled freckles of white on her face.
“She certainly deserves a name. What about Freckles?”
“That fits.”
“Is the calf a boy or girl?” I asked, tipping my head to the side as if I’d know what I was looking at.
“We’re gonna have to teach you some ranch terms. A female cow that hasn’t had any calves yet is a heifer. That calf is a heifer.”
“After she has a baby, she’s a cow?”
“Yep,” he confirmed, continuing to make notes next to a list of numbers that matched the bright orange ear tags.
“What about Freckles and Delta?” He studied the cow and calf, dipping his chin in a nod.
“Sounds good, Pretty Girl.” A smile tugged at his lips.
I wasn’t used to having someone call me terms of endearment, and this man used them as though he was tossing candy in a parade. He must be this way with everyone. I had a coworker named Sharon that was always calling everyone sweetheart, darling, and honey. I craved his easy way of existing. He welcomed people easily, and it seemed as if once he knew someone, they simply belonged. I envied the people that knew him well. The good, wholesome people that belonged to him, and he belonged to them. A jolt from the UTV brought me back to the present.
“Hey.” I must have missed him calling my name.
“Uh. Sorry, my mind was wandering.” My cheeks heated.
“Can I ask you something?” The sudden seriousness of his tone made me question if I wanted to say yes.
“Uh, okay.”
“Is there a reason you’ve been avoiding me?” His voice was gentle. I couldn’t lie, not when his eyes peered into my soul. I looked down at my hands and reached for my chain.
“Soren. I’m not like other people.” Why did he have this ability to make me say things I never spoke to anyone?
I blew out a deep breath and continued fidgeting with the tags, my eyes watching my fingers. It was best to lay things out in the open, even if it was embarrassing.
“Maybe that’s why I want to get to know you.” His quiet confidence nearly undid me.
“I don’t do well with new people,” I pushed back.
“What if I don’t want to be a ‘new person’ anymore?” His voice sounded low.
I peeked up and the soft sincerity in his eyes caught me by surprise.
“What do you mean?”
“What if I want to get to know you so thoroughly that I’m not a new person to you anymore?”
I ducked my head again and a heated blush painted my cheeks. My fingers rubbed a familiar pattern over the dog tags. His straightforward directness was something I wasn’t accustomed with.
“Why?” I studied his face as he watched me in return.
“Because you’re someone I want to know.” How could he know that?
I wasn’t sure if I completely understood why, but what would it hurt? I was used to people being in my life for short periods of time. I had hundreds of foster siblings float in and out of my life over the years. This wouldn’t be any different. We would get to know each other, and then he’d move on because everyone always does. I simply had to make sure that I kept my expectations where they should be.
“Okay. But only if I convince you to listen to some newer country music,” I quipped because everything was too heavy, and avoiding experiencing real emotions was my specialty.
He laughed, most likely seeing the moment for what it was but being thoughtful enough to let it be.
“Alright. Who should I listen to?”