Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Cassidy
B eing inside his cabin gave Cassidy too much time to think about the night before, when he could smell Trey in his space. All because of the clothes he had tucked under his pillow—gross—because he couldn’t make himself launder them, along with everything else, that morning. He was an adult; he did not need to explain his behavior or justify it to anyone but himself.
But you are.
I’m an adult , he pointed out to his animal side, because it was all Cassidy had right then.
Then act like it and go tell the hunky wolf what we want.
No.
Everything got mixed up and he suspected it was because of his heat.
It isn’t.
Shut up.
He should have waited for today to visit Trey, then he wouldn’t be feeling like this.
Unnerved?
Was that the best way to describe it? It was as if he was waiting for the other cowboy boot to drop. Never a good thing, in Cassidy’s opinion. He wanted to believe he had pushed Trey to act differently because of his heat—or the lingering effects—which could more than account for the intimate touching and kissing. Yes, Trey touched him intimately and kissed him, but not like he’d done last night.
Was that the residual heat effect on Trey?
Really, this is pointless. Go ask him.
Honestly, why don’t you cluck off!
Fine, I will, but I will not be there when you need to offload.
Blessed silence followed, and Cassidy got left with his own thoughts once again.
Trey had fucked him hard, just like he had demanded. As usual, there was dirty talk. The stuff that gave Cassidy material to get off on between trips to the bar. With how addictive Trey was, he limited himself with how often he could visit.
Trey had an apartment above the bar. Had Cassidy seen inside it? Nope. Not once had they gotten beyond the restroom in the bar. Cassidy wondered if the reason why was how needy he got.
Although he wasn’t the only one. Trey could be as bad as Cassidy, and he didn’t have heats. And as much as Trey talked about letting others watch them—wolves, he had heard, had no inhibitions when it came to sex or sex in public—he always made sure they weren’t visible when they fucked.
Last night, with how Cassidy was, he would have let Trey fuck him over the hood of his truck. And Cassidy wasn’t sure how he felt about that in the cold light of day, now his hormones were better under control.
The knotting… although Trey did like to knot with him, it wasn’t a frequent thing. When they had done it before, Trey had never kissed him softly. Had never wrapped his arms around him and held Cassidy like he was precious. Wasn’t that more than causal fucking? This question was fucking with his head.
If it was just sex, then what was different about last night? Was it his hormones? Or something else? The unanswered questions roaming around Cassidy’s mind were why he had been up early, using the time to finish knitting Lynda’s jumper.
He blew out a shuddery breath and stomped out of his cabin, clutching what he’d made, needing a distraction and knowing exactly where to get it. His girls. He knew the other ranch hands laughed at him because they didn’t hide their amusement. They thought he was a little bizarre with how he treated his chicks.
Did he care?
Heck no.
He bred chickens; he was a rare breed himself, not that he could shift, but he didn’t care—mostly. The breed of his family was Plymouth Rocks, and they could lay pink and purple eggs. Cassidy had long since resigned himself to how his family viewed his lack of ability to change, so he had substituted them for a family that was much more appreciative of him.
He tipped his cowboy hat as he walked across the back paddock when he noted Ethan astride a stallion. Cassidy had half convinced himself to be in love with Ethan when he first arrived on the ranch, through a program that the owner had started for youths in foster care.
Ethan, tall, dark and athletic from working with the horses, was a sight that could stop any hot-blooded person in their tracks, especially when he was astride a horse. He was a specimen of pure hotness. Mostly, he was shirtless when working with the horses, which was nearly all the time. The man was a horse whisperer. They’d had many troubled horses come to the ranch, and Ethan—to Cassidy’s knowledge—had never failed to help a single one.
Bare chested and sweaty with hay stuck to him, Ethan rode to the edge of the paddock, stopping a distance from Cassidy, who held up his hand for the horse to smell him. Horses were sensitive creatures. “Mornin’.”
Ethan tipped back his hat as he examined Cassidy with a serious look. “Mornin’ Cass.” His nose wrinkled, then smoothed out, and a smile appeared. “You’re over your heat.”
Not so much a question, more an observation, but Cassidy nodded. “Yep, I’m just off to see how Sunny is getting on with my girls.”
Ethan’s laughter rumbled out, startling a bird resting on a tree branch. It squawked its displeasure and flew off into the cloudless sky. At this time of day, it wasn’t too hot to make it unbearable, so it was pleasant to stand and chew the fat.
“You and your chicks.” Ethan eyed what was in Cassidy’s hand. “That another knitted thing for one of them?” His voice held a wealth of humor that also made his dark brown eyes glow in his deeply tanned face.
Giving a shrug, Cassidy matched Ethan’s grin. He never took offense because he loved his ladies. “They’re my girls, what can I say?” Cassidy held up the purple knitted garment. “Lynda will look great wearing it with her little tutu of feathers.”
This time Ethan rocked on the bare back of the horse, his laughter making the horse take some side steps. “You’d brighten the darkest day, Cass.” He wiped at his eyes as he continued. “It’ll be interesting to see what our new guests will make of your chicks.”
“New guests?” Cassidy couldn’t recall any mention of their being guests coming. They offered different ranch experiences for the city folks. It was usually too hot at this time of year for anyone to want to come and learn about being a ranch hand.
“Silas, his brothers, and their assistants are coming for a week, maybe less. They haven’t quite decided yet, from what Silas mentioned when we spoke.”
“They are?” Cassidy asked, wide eyed. As far as he knew, none of the owner, Silas Starling’s brothers, had been to the ranch, except for Booker. There were eight of them, and Silas’s parents, Lane and Derick, had adopted five of them, if the gossip on the ranch was to be believed.
Silas, who Cassidy knew loved working on the ranch despite working for Starling Enterprises, one of the largest fashion businesses out there, of late had all but disappeared.
“When was this organized?”
“A few days ago. They arrive Monday.” The stallion whinnied and flicked its head. Ethan stroked over the mane, “It’s alright boy,” he murmured softly, and the horse settled.
“I’ll leave you to it. If you need me to do anything extra, just shout.”
At the nod, Ethan tipped his hat back into place and, holding the horse's mane, squeezed his thighs and they took off. Horse and man as one, fluid and stunning to watch as they moved in unison. Cassidy had never ridden bareback, but Ethan seemed to prefer it.
The squawking coming from the direction of the henhouses brought Cassidy’s attention to where he’d been heading before he’d stopped. His grin spread at the welcoming committee of Lila, Lisbeth, Luna, Lottie and Lana.
“They’s my girls,” Cassidy crooned as he walked to the large enclosure where the chickens roamed free. Their henhouses were tucked back close to a large barn, so even when the weather turned, the inside remained mostly dry.
Sunny appeared from inside the barn carrying a large pail full of eggs as Cassidy’s little chicks made a beeline for him, squawking and chirping in delight.
“Cass, I thought you had the day off today?” Sunny said, projecting his voice to be heard over the welcome the girls were giving Cassidy, his gaze on where he walked so as not to tread on any of the Seramas chicks.
They had several breeds, and the Seramas’ were the smallest. The teacup puppies of the chicken world. Sweet and lovable with curly feathers, they were smaller than a coke can and came in a wild assortment of colors, feather patterns, and feather types. They also made great pets because of their loveable nature. Some of his girls often spent the night in his cabin when he was feeling the need for company.
“I am, but I was awake, and I’ve done all my chores.” Cassidy held up the knitted purple top he’d made for Lynda. “And as I finished this, I thought I’d come and see if it fits.”
Sunny stifled a giggle. “You know, you’re probably the only dude on the planet who would knit clothes for his chickens.”
With a small shoulder shrug, Cassidy sat down on the dirt and grinned when the chicks immediately climbed on to him. “If you love someone, you gotta treat them right,” he murmured, stroking carefully at their feathers. “Isn’t that so, girls?”
The clucking started in earnest, and Sunny’s giggles got drowned out.
Cassidy spotted Lynda coming out of the barn, and she held all his attention as she stalked majestically towards him. The La Fleche breed unfortunately made Lynda and her sisters a bit satanic-looking. With jet-black feathers and fleshy little devil horns, they stood out in the crowd. This breed of birds was more aloof around people, and, unlike the others, they didn’t follow their owner around. Lynda knew who the boss was, and it wasn’t Cassidy.
She tolerated him and his crazy notion to make her look less satanic and more pretty. “Look what I got for you, Lynda.”
She pecked at the purple wool several times and then lowered her head in approval. “I knew you’d love it,” he crooned.
“You know it won’t make her look?—”
Cassidy shook his head, not shifting his gaze from Lynda.
“Don’t be mean,” he said softly to Sunny, and to Lynda, “to my special lady. She has feelings too.” He carefully pulled the knitted top into place, pleased with how it fit.
“Perfect.”
Sunny sauntered off, mumbling under his breath, loud enough for Cassidy to hear, “Sometimes, I worry for you.”
He lifted Lynda up to look her in the eye. “There’s nothing to worry about, is there?”
Cassidy was sure he could see amusement in her eyes as she squawked, then flapped her wings to show it was time to let go if he didn’t want to be pecked in the eye. When she sauntered off, proudly displaying her knitted top, Cassidy beamed with satisfaction, his mind focusing on what color to make Letta’s sweater.