Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Rylee’s hands curled around the metal trough as she peered inside at the adorable peeping chicks. Tate’s “surprise” was a little out there, but it was so sweet she didn’t have the heart to get upset over it.
At this point, she would happily foster some chicks then send them on their way to a better home when she had to leave.
If she chose to leave.
Her palms had two blisters apiece and a third coming in under her thumb, and she’d earned every one of them herself.
She’d paid a man forty dollars and a plate of cookies to get her father’s tractor turning over.
Then she’d spent two days in the west field from sunup to sundown, cutting down eleven years of whatever had wanted to grow there.
Nobody had asked her to. Nobody had brought it over on a trailer. She’d gotten up in the dark and done it because she couldn’t stand looking at it anymore, and the fact of it sat there like something she wasn’t ready to say out loud.
She sighed, rising to her full height as she headed for the side of the barn Tate and Jason were still working on. It was framed and the siding was on now. Next, they’d be installing some insulation—something Jason had insisted wasn’t necessary but Tate wouldn’t budge on.
He continued to go overboard when it came to fixing things around her property. And more often than not, he was at her place for dinner after the fact. Last night she’d pointed out as much and all he’d done was wink at her before telling her that was all part of his master plan.
Laughing to herself, she paused with hands on her hips as she took in the repairs. The stalls were also being built, for what, she didn’t know. It wasn’t like she’d be taking on a horse while she was here. That would be silly.
Right?
Except ever since that day she’d gone riding with Tate, she couldn’t stop thinking about going out again. She wanted to be out in the open, let the warm sun kiss her skin, feel the gentle breeze tug at her hair. There was something about being connected to nature that called to her.
Was this what she’d been searching for?
The possibility of that was real. She hadn’t told Roxy as much. Her aunt might throw a fit if she knew just how attached Rylee had gotten in the last couple of weeks. Summer would be gone before she was ready, and if Rylee didn’t have a firm decision on the matter, she wasn’t sure what she’d do.
The sound of an engine outside dragged her attention and she turned toward the entrance of the barn.
That engine wasn’t the familiar purr of Tate’s truck.
It was louder. Bigger. She frowned as she walked and then stopped dead in her tracks when she saw Tate opening the back of a trailer to reveal three goats.
“What on earth do you think you’re doing?” Rylee demanded, but there was definitely an edge of excitement in it. She all but floated toward the trailer to get a better look. The second she got too close, one of the goats flopped over onto its back.
She stared, wide-eyed at the animal, her shock wearing off only when Tate’s chuckle reached her.
“That’s a fainting goat. Don’t worry, he’s perfectly fine.” As if to prove Tate right, the goat scrambled to his feet.
“Will they all do that?” she asked.
Tate shook his head. “Nah. He’s the only one.”
“I didn’t know goats could actually pass out,” Rylee murmured, looking closer at the fainting goat.
“Technically they don’t. They’re fully conscious when they freeze up like that.”
She was sure if her eyes got any wider that they could pop right out of her head. “Does it hurt?”
“Doubtful.” Tate leaned his hip against the edge of the trailer as he looked over the three goats still behind a low gate inside the trailer. “It’s a genetic disorder that causes it. When they get excited or startled, their muscles freeze up and they fall over.”
“He’s going to faint over and over again for no reason?” She didn’t mean to let it rise like it did, and to her chagrin, the subject of their conversation repeated his fainting spell. She gasped, her hands flying to her lips. “Sorry,” she whispered between her fingers.
Tate’s laughter wasn’t mocking at all. His amusement spread to her and she let loose a giggle.
When their eyes locked, worlds and whole conversations passed between them.
She went still under his stare, wondering what was going on in his head.
Unfortunately, he didn’t offer any insight and she didn’t ask.
“What are you going to name them?” he asked.
“Name them—they don’t have names?”
He shook his head. “I saved these three from being put down. They were found on a piece of property a few cities over where the owners didn’t know how to care for them properly. They had so many animals on their property… it’s no wonder someone reported them.”
“They’re rescues?” Why did that fact warm her heart so fully? She couldn’t bring herself to look at him after she’d forced herself to shift her whole attention to the three small goats.
“That they are. They need a good home, and I think you can give that to them.”
She shot him a flat look. “Of course you do.”
He snickered as he pushed away from the trailer and rubbed his hands together. “So, let’s get these miscreants some names and then we can lead them out to the paddock I repaired the other day.”
Her head shot up just as she reached a hand out to pet the closest goat. This one was white while the other two were shades of brown. “You made sure the fence was sturdy?”
Tate nodded. “I couldn’t very well bring the buggers here without making sure they couldn’t escape, now could I?” He jerked his chin toward the animals. “What’s it going to be?”
She dragged her eyes to the goats and mulled it over. “I don’t know.”
Tate chuckled once again. “This coming from the girl who named every single animal she came across? What did you name that rabid raccoon when you were six? Oh yeah. Princess.” Her dark stare did nothing to chase away his amused grin.
With hands on her hips, she continued to stare at him through narrowed eyes. “Oh yeah? What would you have named her?”
He snorted, one brow arching. “First off, we don’t even know if she was a she. Second, one bite from that creature would have given you rabies. I don’t think it deserved a name.”
“That’s not what I asked. I wanted to know what you would have named her.” She said it pointedly, making it clear she wasn’t going to back down.
Tate huffed out a laugh. “Fine. Maybe I’d have named it Trouble. Because that was what it was.”
Rylee snorted. “Too on the nose.”
“Well? Since you’re so good at naming animals, what will you name these guys?”
She turned to the goats for a moment. “Maybe Huey, Dewey, and Louie.”
“Wrong animal,” Tate murmured. “How about Moe, Larry, and Curly?”
Rylee gaped at him. “Those goats are too cute for names like that.”
He rolled his eyes, but his smile remained a fixture on his face. “Come on, let’s get the little ducks to their new playground.”
She snorted again but didn’t argue. They got the goats situated then Tate retrieved some feed from his truck. Her eyes rounded when he tossed it onto his shoulder like it weighed nothing and headed for the barn.
It wasn’t just the fact that she was taking on more responsibility here. She’d figure that stuff out later. There was time.
No, her attention was solely focused on the cowboy who had no trouble with manual labor.
The muscles in his back flexed beneath his shirt.
The cords in his arms showed off just how capable he was.
Long gone was the gangly boy from their youth and in his place was a man unlike anyone she’d come across at her aunt’s social events.
He turned, catching her staring and her face flushed so hot she wouldn’t be surprised if she looked similar to the produce her father used to grow. Rylee looked away but it was too late. Tate had already caught her, and by the smug look on his face he knew exactly what she’d been thinking.
Well… great.
She followed him until he placed the feed in the barn, not knowing what else she could do. He tossed the bag down with a thud then dusted off his hands before turning to face her. She couldn’t meet his eyes, but she had the distinct impression he was grinning. He was so… happy. Like, all the time.
“Where’s Jason today?”
Tate stopped dusting off his hands. “Working.”
“Working. Or working your afternoon?”
He didn’t answer, which was an answer.
“I was in town yesterday,” Rylee said. “Marla Dailey was ahead of me in line at the market. She told me her son’s lesson got moved. Twice, now.”
“That’s not—”
“And then she looked at my overalls, and she smiled at me, Tate, and she said, ‘Well, isn’t it nice you’ve got help out there.’”
The grin went out of him.
“I’m not a project.” Her voice came out steadier than she felt. “You can’t spend your business on me and then hand me a goat like a party favor and expect me not to do the arithmetic.”
For a second she thought he’d fight her on it. He had the face for it. Then he pulled his hat off and turned it over in his hands, which she was beginning to understand was as close as Tate Dennison came to admitting anything.
“They were going to be put down,” he said. “That part’s true.”
“I know it’s true. That isn’t the part I asked about.”
The quiet went on long enough that one of the brown ones got bored and started in on her shoelace.
“I’ll put the Dailey boy back where he belongs,” Tate said.
“Good.”
“And I’ll bring you what the three of them cost.”
Her chin came up. “I’ll pay it.”
“You’ll pay it,” he agreed. No argument. No joke to soften it. And that, out of everything he had done for her since the night she turned up on his porch covered in mud, was the thing that made her heart do exactly what she’d spent all week talking it out of.
Tate put his hat back on and gave her somewhere else to go.
“Normally your dad would be done with planting by now, right?”
His question caught her off guard and she looked up at him. “Yeah, why?”
“Can I ask why that tractor is out in the field? It’s too late in the season to start—”