5. Chapter Five
Chapter Five
Blue
“Clay, this is all fucked up,” I groan and sit back in his office chair.
The duct taped arms stick to my sleeves when I drop my elbows in exasperation.
His dark eyes are sunken. It’s only been ten days since his operation, but I swear he’s aged twenty years.
“I think I have some notes somewhere on poundage. Maybe some registration papers in that pile?” His thick finger points at a tilting tower of disheveled loose leaf notebook pages.
“If you want top dollar on your cows, I need to know how much they produce. Lineage. Health history. How many calves they’ve had. Rate of gain. There’s a long ass list that adds a dollar sign with every piece.” I pull off my hat and set it on another tipping wad of Post-It notes.
There’s years of records here, but no semblance of organization .
Clay leans against the corner of the desk weakly. “I’m sorry, Blue. I can just take them to the sale yard if it’s too much work.”
“Just stop that bullshit. I said I’d help, but I need a starting point. Let’s get inventory on the herd and go from there.” I know with the storm that passed through, they should all be in the main barns and easier to put eyes on.
He seems to agree with a small nod. “I just don’t know if I can keep up, yet. I’ll ask Libby if she minds. Maybe. Don’t mind her if she’s salty. She doesn’t quite agree with my decision.”
I remember seeing the look of pain on her face when she learned of his illness, then how she broke down to Char at Thanksgiving.
“I think she loves you more than this place, Clay. She’ll understand.” I grab an empty chair from the corner and bring it over near where I’ll be sitting.
It’s an empty flat surface I can use to start sorting.
His grizzled jaw ticks. “I just have a feeling that no matter what I do, I’m messing it up.”
“Shit, Clay. If you only do one thing, make it getting healthy. That’s all we want.” Reaching out, I take a fistful of notes and start wading through them.
“Thank you, Blue.” His heavy palm claps my shoulder before he shuffles out .
Damn there’s a lot here. There’s a chill in here, concrete adjoining the cooling tanks for the milk storage must keep it colder.
The little space heater in the corner is just starting to catch up enough that I can shed my Carhartt coat when I hear the industrial steel door swing open.
Libby leans against the cinder block wall with a frown, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m here under duress.” Her bottom lip pokes out as she watches me.
I roll up the long sleeves of my flannel shirt, then thread my fingers behind my head and lean back. “What? Afraid I’ll bite?”
Her nose wrinkles, but the corner of her mouth teases up. “No. But I don’t want to do this. I can run things just fine.”
Twisting in the creaking chair, I cast my hand in a broad gesture across the messy piles of documents. “Okay. Show me your sale receipts for last year. Because if you have a secret filing technique, I’d love to see it.”
She moves closer, brushing my knee with her thigh.
I don’t want to move. There’s a bit of me that wants to keep the contact.
Ever since seeing her bare ass, then that damn hug, I’ve been hoping for the next chance to cross paths.
But not if she’s cranky, which she seems to be today.
Shuffling a few slips around, she triumphantly pulls up a wrinkled pink stub. “Here’s one.” Her deep blue eyes squint as she inspects it. “Is that your signature in the inspector spot?”
“Yep. I gotta sign ‘em all.” I don’t need to look at it. Clay’s the only one who uses those ancient carbon copies.
“Why does it say Beau Pierce? I thought your name was Blue?” Her golden brows raise.
“Blue is a nickname I picked up as a kid, and it stuck.” I grin, pulling my ankle up to set on my knee.
It pulls me away from her enough I can focus.
That dang touch of her coveralls was enough to distract me.
“Oh?” Her mouth makes a perfect circle. “There has to be a story.” She lets the paper slip from her fingers back to the desk.
When she grips the wooden edge and props her butt cheeks on it, it makes the thick fabric of her overalls fold away from her, revealing the snug fit of her white thermal top over her chest and belly.
Does she have any idea how fucking distracting she is?
“Ain’t much of a tale. I was knee high to a duck when my mom was out picking blueberries. Apparently they’re my one true love.” I grin up at her. “Fell head first into a bucket full of them. From what I understand, I was berry-stained for a week.”
Her eyes sparkle when she laughs. “Little Beau Blue?”
“Something like that,” I chuckle along with her .
But then those pink lips of hers purse, and her palm finds the smooth top of the desk and she leans closer. “Can you show me how to do this so I can run this place, the right way?”
I am suddenly conflicted between my head and my cock.
“What do I get out of that deal?” Chewing on the inside of my cheek keeps me from showing too much amusement watching her squirm.
Her short nail taps on the end of her nose, then follows the curve to the top of her full mouth.
My humor fades as I watch her pinch her pouty bottom lip as her gaze rifles through me.
“How about…I let you take me to my birthday party?” A smirk flirts with her cheek.
She’s trying to be serious, and the struggle is adorable.
“Depends. Is it a bunch of your friends in pajamas having a pillow fight? Now that would be an event I’d love to participate in.” I give her my most charming wink.
Her smile spreads with a hint of mischief. “I never knew you’d want to romp with Dixon. He’ll be there.”
Well, shit. Heat drifts up my throat, and I clear it to try and cover. “Well, color me intrigued.”
She erupts into giggles watching my face. “It’s my big two-one. Char’s taking me to Hilltop to celebrate, so of course Dixon is going. I think they’re attached at the hip.”
“She’s pregnant with twins. I’m pretty sure they figured out how to do that part.” I’m not sure why, but I’m enjoying laying on the innuendos.
Maybe because I know she’s forbidden fruit.
But when she looses a throaty laugh, and her palm smacks my crossed leg lightly, it makes me want to see just how far I can push her.
To blur that line.
“Did you know I’m the one that taught Paisley to call him ‘Daddy Dixon’?” Her words are choppy between snickers. “I wish I could have seen the look on his face the first time.”
She glances down, perhaps noticing that she’s still letting her fingertips drift over the wrinkle in the jeans at my knee, because she steps back, resting her palm on the desk again.
The ghost of her touch still lingers.
“It seems he wanted to live up to the name.” I never saw Dix as a father figure. He was always too serious, career driven.
I imagine that changed when he met Char.
It’s strange to see him that way.
What would that be like, wanting to change everything for a woman? I’ve never had that gumption.
Maybe I never met the right one.
“I guess so.” She falls quiet, and her eyes drift to the dirty window letting in weak rays of sun. “My dad wants me to meet someone and start a family.” Her voice is hushed, then she shakes her head. “Not yet. I gotta learn how to run this place first.”
What would she look like with a wedding ring and a baby on her hip?
Fuck, that’s a danger zone.
That life is for a better man than me. I like my job too much. I get to travel when and where I want.
Free and clear.
No strings.
When she turns back to me, there’s a fire in her focus. “So, do we have a deal? I’ll even buy you a beer.” Her palm extends and she tilts her chin, waiting for me.
I’d get to see her tipsy, and hang out with Dixon for a few hours?
Might be fun.
“What the hell, sure.” But when my hand slides into hers, and the heat crawls up my arm to invade my chest, I feel like I’m signing on to more than I’m bargaining for.