Chapter Eight
Elise
I stood off to the side with Kelli, who had a baby balanced expertly on her hip. Near the fence, the sheriff was talking to Brady, and every once in a while his gaze flicked toward me.
Sheriff Davis knew exactly who I was.
He was paid, generously and somewhat illegally, to forget that the Steele family existed at all. The question now was whether he was willing to forget that I’d arrived here with Brady Holliston. His gaze didn’t linger long enough to be an overt threat, but it didn’t miss anything either.
Notice. Assess. Decide what mattered.
Offering him money to keep quiet would only call attention to the fact that I was hiding this from my father. It was better to act as if none of this was an issue. For now I was just a woman who had given a man a ride. A variable not worth reporting.
“They’ve been at it a while,” Kelli said, shifting the baby higher.
I turned my attention back to the pen. Brady had done an incredible job calming the cow. The animal stood tense but no longer thrashing, its sides heaving with heavy, rhythmic breaths.
The farmer, however, was losing both tools and patience. The sheriff looked hot and frustrated, wiping sweat from his forehead with a hand that left a streak of grime behind.
Fresh to the scene, Brady still looked composed. He stood right off the cow’s shoulder, one hand resting lightly along its neck, speaking in that same low, steady tone I’d heard him use before.
Kelli smiled at me. “You’re Elise, right?”
My eyes widened, surprised. “Yes.”
“I’ve seen you around town. Sorry I haven’t come up to say hello before now.” She bounced the baby, the movement rhythmic and practiced. “Been a little busy.”
The baby, whose name was Aaron, was probably about a year old. He had his mother’s eyes and wore only a diaper that looked slightly too big for his frame.
“He’s beautiful,” I said.
Aaron stuck a wet hand in his mouth, then reached for me. I instinctively shifted out of range. “No thank you.”
Kelli laughed. “He’s in a grabbing phase.”
He didn’t seem discouraged. If anything, he leaned farther, determined to reach the silk of my blouse. I stepped back again, my focus returning to the mechanics of the pen.
“I hope they figure it out soon,” Kelli said. “We can’t afford to get a new feeder this season. That cow belongs in a freezer. This is the second time it’s done this in six months.”
“How did you get it out last time?” I asked.
“We cut away the metal. That’s why this feeder is new. Supposed to be a better design. We paid extra for that.”
I studied the setup again, stripping away the noise and the heat until only the geometry remained. The angle of the cow’s head. The spacing of the bars. The direction of force.
They were trying to turn the animal’s head. That wasn’t going to work. “I have an idea.”
Kelli angled her head toward the men and lowered her voice. “You can try to tell them,” she said, “but considering neither one of us has a penis, I don’t know if they’ll hear us right now. They’re full-on-testosterone-solving this problem.”
I checked her expression. “So you think if I walked over there and made a suggestion, they would ignore me?”
“Not ignore you,” she said. “They’re not that rude. But they might assume you don’t know what you’re talking about.”
That was all I needed. This wasn’t just about the cow anymore. I wanted to see what Brady would do with a suggestion he hadn’t come up with himself.
“Excuse me,” I said, stepping toward them.
The sheriff and the farmer both looked up, their expressions flat with exhaustion and irritation.
“I have an idea,” I said, keeping my tone neutral and clinical.
“Have you considered flipping the feeder on its side and holding it diagonally with the tractor? At that angle, the cow could slide its head straight back, low next to the bar. Right now, when you turn its head, it isn’t as flush as it needs to be. ”
The farmer wiped his brow, a skeptical huff escaping him. He looked at the sheriff, then back at me, his eyes dismissive. “No offense, but I don’t see how lifting the feeder would make a difference.”
The sheriff didn’t speak; which was probably smart on his part.
Brady lit up.
He took a step back, tilted his head, and actually studied the setup through the lens I’d provided. “It’s definitely worth a try.” He turned to the farmer, his voice cutting through the skepticism with easy authority. “You’ve got the tractor right there. What do you need to make this happen?”
Heat rose within me. Warm. Unexpected. Brady didn’t doubt me. He didn’t reframe it to make it his own idea. I suggested at least two points of contact, possibly a stabilizing chain, then stepped back, returning to Kelli’s side.
She was already smiling. “They’re going to try it,” she said. “Good for you.”
I watched as they attached the feeder to the tractor, using a chain as I’d suggested. The metal creaked under the strain as it was tilted to the diagonal. The cow resisted once, a low, strained sound, but stilled when Brady’s hand settled back on her neck.
A second passed. Then another. And then her head slid free.
The release moved through the group like a shared exhale. The farmer looked stunned; the sheriff looked relieved.
I experienced a sudden spike of pride. For a moment, I wasn’t Thomas Steele’s daughter standing by and watching, an outsider in a town that should have felt like my second home.
For once, I was one of them.
Brady turned and came toward me, grinning. “How does it feel to know you just did what a seasoned cow farmer was struggling to do?”
“I noticed an angle,” I said, though my cheeks were heating in a way that had nothing to do with the sun.
“That’s underselling it.”
Before I could reply, Kelli stepped closer. “Oh my gosh, I forgot the bread in the oven. Could you hold him for a second?”
Without waiting for an answer, she deposited Aaron into my arms. I froze, holding the baby out in front of me like a live wire.
“Listen,” I told him, my voice low and serious. “I’m going to put you on my hip, and you are not going to wipe that spit-covered hand on any part of me. Do you agree to my conditions?”
He gurgled, a bubble of drool escaping his lips. Then he lunged forward and gripped the neckline of my shirt with a damp, sticky hand.
“So that’s the way this is going to go, is it?
” I muttered, tucking him against my side the way Kelli had.
He was heavy, warm, and smelled faintly of milk and sunshine.
He clung to me like I belonged to him, completely unconcerned with the fact that he was ruining several hundred dollars’ worth of silk.
I looked up and found Brady watching me. He wasn’t laughing at the absurdity of it. His gaze was heavy, focused entirely on me in a way that made the air feel thicker.
“Is this my reward for freeing the cow?” I asked, my voice dropping an octave.
There was a flicker in his eyes. A challenge. “I could suggest a better one.”
Every instinct I had screamed at me to step back. To re-establish the boundary. “And that would be?” I asked anyway.
He stepped closer. Not enough to crowd me, but enough that I could feel the heat radiating from him, the scent of hay and salt. He reached out, his thumb brushing a stray hair away from my face, his touch lingering just a second too long on my temple.
Then he bent and brushed his lips over mine.
It was brief. Gentle. But the contrast hit like a physical shock. My heart gave a frantic, uncoordinated thud against my ribs.
I inhaled, the scent of him filling my lungs.
He straightened immediately, though he didn’t pull back.
“I’m sorry. I know you said you’re not interested in going on a date with me.
” He gave a small, lopsided shrug. “But I haven’t been able to think about much beside you for the last couple of days.
And this might be false optimism talking, but I’m kind of hoping you’ve been thinking about me too. ”
I opened my mouth, a dozen logical rebuttals forming, but Kelli chose that moment to return, reclaiming Aaron with an easy motion.
“Thank you for taking him,” she said, then beamed at the pen.
“And for coming out to help.” She looked between us.
“You two must be hungry. I can throw something together if you want to stay.”
I should have said no. Normally I would have. I didn’t know them. The sheriff knew too much. Continued engagement invited an unnecessary level of risk. But I didn’t want to rush back to my solitary life. I looked at Brady. “What do you think? Should we?”
His grin came back, easy and bright. “Yes. But only if Kelli lets us clean up afterward.”
“Oh, that’s not necessary—” She started to say.
“Homemade food is something I don’t get enough of,” I said, surprising myself with the honesty. “Doing the dishes afterward is a small price to pay.”
Kelli lit up at that, the pride of a host taking over. “It’s just pot roast and potatoes. Nothing fancy, but there’s plenty.”
“Sounds delicious. Would it help if we watched Aaron for a few?” Brady held out his hands to Aaron, who reached for him instantly. “We’ll sit out here with him.”
“He loves the ducks,” Kelli said, her eyes shining with gratitude.
Brady settled Aaron comfortably against his side like it was second nature. “I love ducks too,” he said to the little boy with humor. “What a coincidence!”
“Me too,” I echoed. Me too.
Kelli excused herself to prepare the meal. When I raised my gaze to meet Brady’s, my breath caught and I had to admit to myself that it wasn’t the ducks I liked . . . it was the man who made the rest of the world disappear every time he looked at me.