Chapter 8
EIGHT
KARL
I slept like shit, and now I’m miserable, taking it out on the giant shit stain that Daisy has on her side. Like karma getting me back for bailing on Matt last night.
“Keep that up and you’ll have it out in record time,” Matt says from outside the wash stall.
“Good,” I grumble.
“Sorry about last night. I didn’t know you were in there.” He taps the doorframe nervously a couple of times, then turns and heads down the row.
Last night, Nancy on my lap, my hands in her hair and on that perfect ass, and those gorgeous lips on mine. Fuck me, she’s probably never going to leave the horse barn again.
Things were going well. Maybe I should have laid off the constant proposals. I wasn’t even serious.
“That’s bullshit,” I mutter to myself.
“Actually, I think it’s cow shit.” Her voice hits me straight in the heart, and I whip around to see her leaning against the wall inside the stall.
Her blonde hair is in a low ponytail and hanging over her left shoulder.
She’s stunning in a simple light blue t-shirt, jeans, and paddock boots.
She looks like she fits in here, among the cows and hicks.
Not that she looks like a hick or that she likes cows, just that she looks comfortable.
She’s not even making that face I’ve grown accustomed to when non-farm people enter a barn.
A true-to-the-word stink face. Nancy’s face is relaxed with a soft smile, a slight tilt of her head, and one eyebrow raised.
Probably wondering why the hell I’m staring at her without saying anything.
Why aren’t I saying anything? Say something.
“Hey,” I croak.
Perfect, well done, you simple country boy.
“I’m sorry to interrupt your inner thoughts. I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by.” She closes the space between us and gently tugs the rag from my hand. “May I?”
I watch, transfixed, as she dips the rag in the bucket of soapy water and then brings it to Daisy’s side, rubbing in tiny circles within the stain.
Daisy looks at me, her big brown eyes full of judgment. Nancy makes more progress in five minutes than I did in the fifteen I’d already been working on it.
“How’d you get so good at this?” I ask as the white hair below is revealed.
She dips the rag again and looks over her shoulder at me. “My sister’s top horse is a gray who sleeps on his side every night. There is rarely a show prep day where I'm not cleaning a shit stain off his side.”
“Marry m—”
“You get it off yet?” Matt interrupts. “Oh, hello again,” he says when he sees Nancy, a smile appearing on his face as he looks over at me, eyebrows high.
“Morning,” she chirps, wetting the rag for a third time. “How was the chicken?”
“Chicken?” Matt asks dumbly.
“The one you needed the oven mitt for.”
“Oh, that chicken, yeah, it was good.” He looks at me panicking. “Very, ugh, chickeny.”
“Chickeny, eh?” She smiles knowingly. “I guess that’s what you want out of a chicken.”
“Yeah, definitely.” Matt nods. “Anyway, I’m going to change.”
I spare a quick glance at my brother. “Sure, see you in a bit.”
“He shows the cows?”
“We both do.”
Her eyes make their way from my head to my toes, still scrubbing away. “Do you need to go get changed?”
“I will once she’s ready.”
“What else needs to be done?”
I shake my head. “Nothing. Other than the stain, she’s ready.”
“Go get changed. I’ll keep working on this.”
I do need to do that but going to get ready means I don’t get to stand here with her. “You don’t have to do this.”
She stops scrubbing and sets the rag down over the side of the bucket. “I know.” She turns to me, eyes searching my face, landing briefly on my mouth. “But I’m good at it, so let me help.”
“Okay, but only if you’re sure.”
“Karl,” she warns, her eyes narrowing. “If you don’t leave right now, I’m going to dump this bucket of water all over her or you.”
I back up with my hands raised defensively. “Alright, I’m going.”
“Our mother is going to lose her damn mind when she finds out you’re grooming cows for some redneck.” A voice I don’t recognize drawls.
“She’s only going to find out I’m helping a friend, who isn’t a redneck by the way, if you tell her.”
“As if,” she scoffs. “She’ll smell the bovine on you the minute you step back into the barn.”
I stop outside the stall and wait.
“Whatever, I don’t care what our mother wants or thinks anymore.”
“One night with the country bumpkin, and you’re ready to give up the life you have? Because that’s what you’re doing, you realize that, right? Won’t spread your legs across a horse, but you’ll spread them for some hick who smiles at you?” Her tone is icy.
A wave of protectiveness I’ve never experienced before washes over me as I listen to Nancy being spoken to like this.
I’ve heard enough, more than enough in fact, and step around the door.
Her sister does a double take when she sees me; it would be funny if I were in a better mood.
I’m probably not what she’s expecting. I know I heard that a lot in university.
“You don’t look like a farmer” was one of the most frequent comments I got.
“You okay, Nancy?” I ignore the way her sister is still looking at me and rest my hand on her waist. She shifts the tiniest bit closer, relaxing into my touch. That has to mean something, right?
“Yeah, Celeste was just leaving.”
“Not without you.” Celeste stands her ground.
“You’re twenty-three, right?” I ask Nancy.
“Yeah.”
I turn to Celeste. “Your sister is old enough to make her own choices. She knows where you are if she wants to go back, which she can do at any time.” I look at Nancy to find her eyes on me and a small smile on her face.
“You wanna watch me win the red ribbon today?” I ask, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.
“I’d like that,” she whispers back.
“Maybe after we can get another dumpling.”
“I’d love that.” She licks her lips, and my knees buckle. The things I want that tongue to be doing to me.
“Don’t come crying to me when she loses her shit on you. And you better be there tomorrow to get Samuel ready for the class. Probably extra early since last time you did a terrible job.” My seemingly uptight future sister-in-law turns without another look in my direction and stomps down the aisle.
“I’m sorry about her.” Nancy drops her head, and I can’t stand it.
I lift her chin so she’s looking at me and kiss her, giving her lips something better to do than apologize for someone else’s behavior.
I hear the rag drop on the rubber floor and snatch her wrists as she brings her hands up to cup my face.
I cross them behind her back and hold them with one hand as I back her up until she’s against the wall, our lips never breaking contact.
She struggles against my grip, desperate to free her hands. And I’d love to let them go, but I need to keep this shirt clean, and her hands are far from that.
“Dirty.” I manage to say between kisses. “Hands.”
“Wanna touch,” she breathes out.
“Later, you can touch me all you want, later.”