Chapter 3
Knox
The afternoon sun beats down on my back like it’s trying to prove its superiority. I’d kill for a beer and a cold shower. Fuck, I’m dying.
I keep swinging my ax. The giant logs split apart with ease. It may be March, but snow is always a threat at this time of year. My house is heated by a wood furnace, and I’ll be damned if I let my son get cold because I was too stupid to cut enough firewood to last the night.
I’ve stripped down to just my jeans as the sweat pours off me. My hat and button-down are slung off to the side. I’ll grab ’em when I go in to get ready for Finn’s parent-teacher conference.
Fuck, just the thought has my temperature rising to dangerous levels.
Farrah Nelson.
What a crock of shit. She parades around her classroom like a little fairy princess, sprinkling her fake cheer on everyone—whether they want it or not.
I’ve seen it in her eyes. She can pretend all she wants that she’s this happy, sparkly woman, but inside, I know she’s got a soul as dark as mine. I hate fake people. Those false pretenses just lure you in until suddenly you’re left broken because you trusted the wrong person.
I’d rather everyone know I’m an asshole than pretend to be something I’m not. At least no one will be disappointed when they see my true colors. I wear them loud and proud.
The only people who have ever stuck around when they see the real me are my best friends: Holt, Grayson, and Emmett. I have no idea why. I’m not even nice to them most days, but for some reason, they keep inviting me to shit.
I’d never tell them this, but it’s nice knowing they don’t care how prickly I can be—they still want me around.
I’m stacking up the logs I’ve split when one of my ranch hands comes racing over the hill.
“Mr. Waters! One of the heifers is going early, and she’s in distress.
” Brady’s wide eyes are terrified. He’s still pretty green, in his early twenties.
He works on my ranch when he’s not on the rodeo circuit or using my broncs to train.
He’s a good kid and could actually make something of his career.
I throw on my button-down and hat. “You got her isolated? I don’t need the rest of the herd getting involved.”
Brady nods, and we take off to the barn to saddle up my horse. He leads the way on his quarter horse while I ride Sir. My no-nonsense Arabian has been by my side for the last ten years, and I have no idea what I’d do without him. I’ve spilled more secrets to Sir than I have to my best friends.
The next few hours pass in a blur of stress and worry. Most of my heifers shouldn’t start calving for another month. The likelihood of this baby surviving is minimal, let alone without any health issues.
Somehow, with the help of the vet we called in before we rode out to the pasture, we assist the mama through the birth of a healthy—if not tiny—calf.
I’m pleased to see the heifer taking to her baby, encouraging it to stand and eat.
I’ve had plenty of mamas reject their calves for any number of reasons.
As I stand, my foot slips out from under me. I reach out to stop myself from falling, slicing my palm on something in the ground. “Ah, fucking hell,” I hiss. Blood starts to pool in my palm, and I clench my hand in a fist. In the grass is a nail, likely from a horseshoe.
Fuck. I quickly snatch it from the ground. That’s the last thing we need one of the cows to step on.
“Well, goddamn, Knox,” Dr. Winter curses. “Give me your hand. I’ve got some antibacterial spray in my kit.”
“Uh, isn’t that for animals?” Brady asks.
“It’ll still clean the wound,” Dr. Winters answers patiently. He’s a better man than I am—I’d have added fucking idiot to the end of that sentence.
I wince as the doctor rinses out my wound with a bit of saline and then sprays it with the antibacterial.
“Shit, that fucking stings,” I groan.
“How up-to-date are you on your tetanus shot?” Dr. Winters asks.
“Got one a year or two back when I scraped my head on a nail sticking out of the post in the shop.”
“You should still be covered then, but I’m a little rusty on my human medical knowledge.”
“I’ll give the clinic a call. What time is it? They might still be open.”
Dr. Winters finishes wrapping up my hand as he looks at his watch. “Looks like six thirty.”
“Oh, fuck. I’m late.” I stride over to Sir and mount up. I kick him into a run, knowing it doesn’t matter how fast I ride. I’ll never make it to that meeting on time.
* * *
I’m jogging down the hallway, my boots echoing with every step. I doubt Farrah is even still here, but the front office let me in the door, so someone must be.
I slow down a few steps from her classroom to try to catch my breath. I’m entirely too big a man to be sprinting. Okay, it was probably the speed of a fast walk, but either way, I’m struggling.
The door is open, indicating she’s still here. When I step through the doorway, I’m taken aback as I always am by the riot of color that surrounds her. It’s over the top and ridiculous in all ways. What kind of adult wears a sparkly pink headband?
I ignore the way her large brown eyes stir something low in my body. I refuse to be attracted to a woman as outlandish as she is. I lift my hand to take my hat off, forgetting about the bandage and wincing at the pull against my wound.
She sucks in a breath, standing abruptly. “What in the world happened to you?”
“Nothing. Doesn’t matter. Am I too late?”
She narrows her eyes at me. “I suppose not, since I’m still here. You’re half an hour past your time, so I’m going to make this quick.”
I snort. “Because you have so many places to be on a Thursday?”
“In fact, I do. I had dinner plans, not that you care.”
“Sure, Princess.” Who the hell would she be going out with? There aren’t that many single guys in town, and fuck knows she’d scare most of them away with her outfits.
Farrah grinds her teeth. I take a sick amount of pleasure in ruffling her feathers. I like showing her that she can’t hide that anger from me, no matter how big her smiles are.
I plop down in one of the chairs across from her desk. A glance at my legs has me fighting back a wince. I didn’t have time to shower or change. Farrah probably thinks I’m as disgusting as I think she is. She’d be right tonight, unfortunately.
She murmurs something about cowboys being assholes as she grabs a folder from the side of her desk.
I wipe my noninjured hand across my mouth to hide my smirk. I’d like to get this done and over with, not that I hate verbally sparring with Farrah. I’m dying for a shower, and I still have to pick Finn up from Holt’s house.
He spent the afternoon with them and Holt’s parents since we had these conferences. I have no idea what I would have done without Holt and his family. I’m pretty sure they saved my life in more ways than I could count.
Farrah clears her throat, handing me a few printed pages with boxes and scores pertaining to my son’s education.
“Finn is a wonderful kid. He’s more empathetic than is probably healthy, but he’s always paying attention to the other students.
He speaks up if someone needs help, or he’ll help them himself.
He learns things astonishingly fast, and I’m going to recommend having his first-grade teacher test him for the gifted program.
It’s too late to do it now, but I think they’ll find that he’ll grasp most every concept they throw at him within minutes.
He’s brilliant, Knox, and he’ll need to be challenged. Otherwise, he’ll just get bored.”
I always thought Finn was intelligent, but I was never sure if it was just parental pride that made me believe that. Having Farrah confirm it makes me wonder… “Should I be doing anything at home to help him?”
“Fostering his interests is the best thing. He loves reading chapter books, but we don’t have many in our library suitable for his age.
He could read more challenging books, but I don’t think he’s old enough to comprehend what he’d be reading.
If he has an interest in a subject, giving him the space and resources to pursue it would be ideal.
It will allow his brain to focus on new things and keep him from getting too bored. ”
I nod. We already do most of those things at home, but I might have to search for some books for advanced young readers. “Anything else I need to know?”
She opens her mouth before closing it again.
“Say it,” I demand. I probably won’t like it, but I want to hear it. As frustrating as I find her, she’s very good at her job.
“Please be careful with his emotions. He has the softest heart of any kid I’ve ever met. It would be so easy to break it because he’s so trusting.”
My hackles rise. “You think I don’t already know that about my kid?
You think I coulda raised him for six years and not known how hard he feels?
I was the one who held him when he bawled his eyes out after finding a dead frog on the side of the pond.
I was there when he accidentally stepped on a spider in the house and cried for ten minutes.
I know my son better than anyone. I don’t need some trumped-up fairy princess telling me how to raise my kid. ”
After I end my tirade, Farrah looks at me with wide brown eyes. Her body is tight with tension, and I realize she’s suddenly frozen with fear. Of me.
“Fuck, Farrah. I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me there. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”
She blinks as if coming back into her body. She looks down at her desk and starts to straighten her already perfect files. “No, I shouldn’t have said anything in the first place. It’s not my job to tell you how to parent your child. I’m sorry. Finn is wonderful, and he’ll do great in first grade.”
Before I can respond, Farrah has her stuff in her hands, and she’s sprinting out the door as if a ghost is chasing her.
“Fuck,” I whisper, running my fingers through my hair. I’ve said some stupid shit to her since she started teaching my son, but this might’ve just been the worst.