6. Chapter 6
Chapter 6
KAT
A s I slapped a hand over my mouth to hide my smile, Bernie groaned, splayed out like a sticky hand splatted against a ceiling. His intense green eyes met mine.
“Please tell me that wasn’t shit,” he muttered.
A snort slipped out of my nose.
“Ah fuck,” he said and splayed his arms out wide.
“I’m so sorry,” I replied, muffled behind my hand, stifling the giggle pressing against the wall.
“Whoever is lying on the ground like a lazy shithead, get your ass up! We’ve still got more cattle,” my dad shouted from across the pen.
Bernie closed his eyes, sweat glistening thick on his tanned skin. Skin I hadn’t expected to be quite as golden as it was, considering he was a redhead. The freckles littering his cheeks and nose were rather… intriguing.
He raised a thick hand into the air and offered a thumbs up to my dad but still remained flat on his back. “I don’t have another fucking shirt,” he grumbled. “And now I’ve got cow shit covering my ass and back. Thank you, Kat.”
I raked my teeth over my bottom lip. “Better get up before the grumpy old ass chews you out again.”
“Then you better cover your eyes. I need some privacy while I take my shirt off,” he replied with a wicked grin on his face. An expression I wasn’t quite sure how to take. I wasn’t really sure what it meant. I’d seen looks like that before but never directed at me—always directed toward my best friend, Emma.
“I’ll take the calf you just ripped its manhood from back to its mama,” I replied, keeping my voice steady and professional despite the word choice that surprised even myself.
He pushed himself up to a seated position and raised a brow. “Be kind. The pain that poor thing is going through right now is enough to make a grown man queasy. Besides, he’ll never get to know what it feels like to fuck. Such a shame.”
A hiccup rose in my throat as I patted my cheek and looked away. Why was it suddenly so hot?
“I have a question,” he continued.
Cautiously, I glanced back at him as he rose from the pile of manure he’d landed in. Covering the back of his forest green, long-sleeved T-shirt that was now soaked in sweat and crap.
“What’s that?” I asked, unable to peel my eyes away as he lifted the hem. My stomach flipped. With my heart racing in my throat, he raised it over his head. I wasn’t even sure what words encapsulated this stranger who’d flown into my life in a flurry of alcohol and smirks. The man knew work. Knew how to push himself physically to the brink, and his body showed that. He had veins across broad shoulders, with a smidge of pudge, just enough to create a little bit of softness on top of every visible, well-defined muscle, and the deep V on his hips had me sweating more profusely than if it were just the sun beating down on me.
Tattoos, not a full sleeve, more like random designs, were inked into his right arm, starting below his bicep and ending about halfway down his forearm. More ink swirled along his left pec and down his ribcage, a stark contrast to the shiny dog tags hanging around his neck. I couldn’t tear my gaze away, and his words came through a haze of heat.
“How do you pick which cow gets to keep his balls?” Bernie asked.
I remained fixed on a man who I was certain wasn’t some dude working in an office in the Navy.
“Kat?”
My lips parted slightly as he looped the shirt around his belt, carefully making sure the side covered in manure faced out and away from him.
He sucked some air between his teeth. “All right, well, that answered that.”
“Huh?” I muttered, sliding my gaze up his body. Trailing over his brawny neck and across features burdened by something I wasn’t privy to, I landed on deep-set green eyes full of a masculinity that rivaled even these cowboys around me.
A crooked smile lifted on Bernie’s lips, the dust and dirt that stained his pant legs settled in specks against the sweat on his skin. “I asked how you pick which cow gets to not endure the wrath of the emasculator. ”
“Oh.” I shook my head and froze. Shit, I’d just stared. Absolutely, unabashedly stared at this man. “Uh, bloodlines. We’ve got the bulls we use to breed already, so right now, we don’t need another. Also, a cow is a female who’s had a baby.” Tearing my eyes away from him burned like duct tape ripping hair out of skin. I wasn’t even sure how much my explanation made sense because even at this moment, all words in my head had fled.
“Get out of here before your dad yells at me again,” Bernie said, a wink offered in my direction, then he turned around and walked to the next calf needing his attention. I chanced a glance back in his direction, tightening my hold on the leather rein in my palm. Emma would swoon when she returned from her work trip. Well, after she chewed his ass out about Arlington.
Laying the reins against my horse’s neck, I bumped my heels and rode in the opposite direction with the calf to return it to his mama. Two words he’d spoken back at the shelter rolled through my mind as thick and hot as the sweat dripping down my skin.
Buried him . What had Bernie meant by “buried him”?
The weight crashing around in the pit of my stomach plunked as heavily as the dread that came with every narrowed glance from Wyatt. Had he buried a buddy from the Navy? Was Bernie on the brink of taking his own life too? Or was I reading into those two words entirely wrong.
Coiling the rope back up into my hands, the calf released from the loop, I turned my horse back around to the herd. Over and over again, like a metronome, we worked through the herd until finally, every single head had been accounted for .
As if nothing had changed from my childhood, another year of branding had come and gone, except this time, there leaning against the railing with his eyes closed and head tipped back, waited a man who had stormed into my life.
Dismounting, my feet plopped down onto the dirt as the crowd slowly disappeared. Hands that worked here year-round headed back to their usual chores, the herd sorted, branded, and headed out to finish a few weeks on the final sprigs of spring pasture before we pushed them up the mountains for the summer. My spurs clinked behind me with every step as I led my chestnut horse over to Bernie.
I paused as my dad shuffled up next to him, his blue roan breathing heavily behind him. Bernie opened his eyes and glanced at my father. Not a word passed between them. Then, with a tip of his hat, my dad nodded once before walking off.
Such an odd interaction. A silent approval, but one that would’ve not happened had he been able to make out that the necklace dangling around Bernie’s neck were dog tags—the one perk to my father having poor eyesight. The endorsement probably wouldn’t have happened had he known that this grown-ass man went by the nickname Bernie. Which I needed to ask why, since Ben was so much easier and shorter for Benjamin than Bernie.
His lashes fluttered down over his eyes once more, and his face turned back to the sun up above. An unseen shadow hung around his shoulders despite the humorous tone he used. Something about him kept the rest of the hands away. Even my curious siblings hadn’t approached him; though, he wasn’t the only new guy to show up for this work today who would be gone tomorrow.
Swallowing stiffly, I cautiously resumed my approach. He didn’t glance my way or move from his position as I stopped beside him. The steady rise and fall of his chest remained in the exact rhythm as it had been, his sweat glistening in the sun.
I inhaled deeply, catching a hint of the sweet citrus scent of him mixing with the heavy smell of cattle and manure.
“You just gonna stand there gawking?” he suddenly asked, cracking his eyes open with a raised brow.
Heat rose in my cheeks. “You know what, I was gonna offer you a candy bar and a pair of clean clothes, but with that attitude.” I narrowed my gaze as he smiled.
“That’s all I get as payment…a candy bar?”
“That and a sore back. Though you’re not alone on that front. My back feels like a few disks have blown out, and I wasn’t the one bent over castrating all day.”
His eyes darkened and he pushed off the fence. “I’ll blow your back out for a Kit Kat any day, just say the word.”
My stomach flipped; a warm sensation roared hot, deep within my core. What was that? That wasn’t directed at me, it couldn’t be. He’s just suffering from heat stroke. I was happy with myself, but there was no way a man like him would say something like that to me and mean it in that way.
Then it hit me, and I pulled my brows together. “Wait, why a Kit Kat? ”
Bernie leaned away from me, his head tipping as confusion flashed across his face. “It’s my favorite…” His voice trailed off as he studied me; his eyes remained locked with mine. “You don’t—” He cut himself off with a shake of his head and inhaled deeply. “Never mind.”
“Never mind what?” I asked, giving him a gentle smile.
“Nothing, really.” Bernie brushed at some dirt on his shoulder. It smeared beneath his palm as the sweat turned it from dust to mud.
“I owe you your CAC, and I don’t think my brother will miss a pair of jeans and a T-shirt if you want to come with me. I just need to put away Ace here first,” I offered.
He lifted his chin at me and glanced over his shoulder at the main house. White paint peeled from the siding, the wrap-around porch weathered from years of blazing hot summers and ice-cold winters beating down upon it. The roof could use a few new shingles as well, but it was home.
“Definitely won’t pass up wearing something that doesn’t have shit on it,” he replied softly.
“We’ll have to be quiet, though. I may be a grown adult, but my parents don’t approve of having boys in my room,” I said.
He looked back at me, a smirk rising on his face. “Wouldn’t be the first bedroom I’ve snuck into.”
“You arrogant ass.”
He chuckled and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “It’s definitely been a solid twelve years at least, though.”
“Twelve years? How old are you anyway?” I asked and slowly began walking in tune with him while mindlessly sliding the leather reins between my fingers. My horse followed along as we wound down away from the paddock and toward Ace’s pasture.
“Thirty-one.”
My heart lodged into my throat. Blood pounding in my ears, I stared forward and said nothing. Thirty-one years old. This man was thirty-one years old. Chewing on his age only made it sound more extreme in my head, even though it really wasn’t.
He pulled his hands from his pockets and wiggled the brim of his baseball cap. “How old are you?”
Swallowing stiffly, I cleared my throat. “Twenty-three,” I whispered.
And Bernie’s toe clipped the edge of a stone. His sneaker squelched with the sound of mud, and he stumbled forward. “You’re how fucking old?” he asked, catching himself with a spin of his arms, and twisted around.
I stopped walking and wrung the leather reins in my hand. “Twenty-three.”
“That’s eight years younger than me.”
“I can do math, dummy. Why’s it such a big deal?” It had been for a moment, but as the number chewed between my teeth like cattle chewed cud, I saw no reason for it to make a difference. He was a fleeting person in my life—a life that was already planned out for me.
He clacked his teeth together for a second, his eyes twitching as he studied me. “It’s not. Just making sure we’re real fucking clear and cool.”
I nodded once. “So.” I resumed walking, guiding Ace to the right of Bernie as he spun back around and jogged to catch up. “You’ve been in the military for twelve years then. ”
“Nah, I tried college first.”
“You went to college?”
His eyes darted to the ground. “Yeah. Me and school never really got along, but I managed to graduate, was bored, and enlisted. Also, I kind of accidentally blew up the recruiter’s lawn mower the year I graduated, so I kinda had to.”
I blinked rapidly, letting the barrage of information barrel through my mind. “You… What?” I stammered.
“It was his son’s idea but…” He shook his head. “Long story for another time.”
“His son’s idea? You blew up a lawn mower because of something the recruiter’s son said?”
A crooked smile slid across his lips. “I met Dalton while at college. I went home with him during spring break. Let’s just say he told me his parents wouldn’t be there, but they came home a few days early, and it was either create a distraction or be caught butt-ass naked with Dalton by his dad. So, yeah. I opted for the distraction.”
My mouth opened, and the words tumbled around on my tongue, but nothing left my lips. Snapping my jaw shut, I stopped walking and faced him directly once coherent sentences jumbled together. “And you thought blowing up the lawn mower was the best distraction possible?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve always had an affinity for shit like that.”
“And now you’re in the Navy where you sit on a boat and do what… exactly?” I asked .
His brows stitched together, and he tipped his head. “That’s what surprises you about that entire story?”
“Should something else?” I looked up at him through my lashes, only now realizing how much taller he really was than me.
“Nope.” His tongue flicked out and he wet his lips.
“Then answer my question.” I threw a hand on my hip.
His gaze trailed slowly down my figure. A strange longing look crossed his face. Something I’d seen men give Emma way too often. But never me.
“Uh, what was your question?” he asked, quickly snapping his eyes back up to mine.
Had he just… “Did you just check me out?” I said instead.
Bernie winked. “You gonna tell me to knock it off?”
“Only if you want to keep your balls. I was the one doing the castrating long before you ever arrived here.”
Stepping directly into me, he placed a calloused hand beneath my chin and tipped my head up. A shiver danced down my spine as his eyes darkened. “I dare you to try, considering that would mean your hand down my pants.”
My eyes flew wide, and I quickly stumbled backward. Bumping into Ace, I slapped a hand against the horse’s side. “Excuse me? Why would I do that?”
Bernie’s brows stitched together, his hand still positioned as if it was against my chin. He opened his mouth, ready to speak but instead exhaled, dropped his hands to his sides and looked away. In a flash, a mask pixelated across his face, hiding every emotion that might have been there .
“I can go wait up by the house for you to put your horse away. Just need my CAC and then I’ll be out of your hair,” he stated as if speaking to a professional colleague.
With the heat of my horse against my back, I wished I could disappear into Ace’s shadow all together. I wasn’t even sure what I was feeling, other than upset he’d said something so crass like that. And in a way that roused this odd warmth deep within my core I was very unaccustomed to.
“Why would you consider that? Don’t you need your testicles?” I asked, trying to decipher what he meant.
Bernie tipped his head, a layer of his mask filtering away. “Yes I do, but…” His voice trailed off and he closed his eyes. A snort shook his shoulders and then he filled his lungs with air. “The offer for a pair of fresh clothes still available?”
“Well, yeah. Obviously. I’ve had dried shit caked to me before and it’s not fun.”
“You are something else, Kit Kat,” Bernie muttered, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and walked forward. “Something else.”
“What the hell does that mean?” I gasped, jogging after him.
“Nothing. Nothing at all,” he replied softly and chuckled to himself as we rounded the bend.