“She’s doing well,” I tell them both. “I left the piglets nursing. Someone will have to put them back in the box. I’ve got to run into town.”
Jace nods—obviously still adjusting to the idea of my new life.
Chet assures me. “We’ll take it from here. Your dad should be out shortly.”
I turn to grab an ATV to drive back to my cabin.
Jace’s words stop me in my tracks. “Thanks, Carli. I really appreciate you being there this morning.”
I turn and smile at my brother, the hum of Cody’s kiss lightly spreading across my lips.
“Of course,” I assure Jace. “You’re not in this alone. I’m still here.”
He smiles and then goes back to whatever he was saying to Chet. The two of them walk toward the farrowing barn together.
The air is damp, drizzle falling softly, wetting my lashes and hair on the drive back to my cottage. It’s the kind of day that begs for a fireplace and a blanket. I turn the water on a tad hotter than usual and step under the spray. Thoughts of Cody float between breaths. The walls of my shower steam and I etch his name on the glass. I might never stop smiling. My cheeks tug and my eyes crinkle. My chest feels full like it could burst.
He kissed me.
I dress in slacks and boots and a nice shirt. I really need to get a few more work-appropriate outfits. Everything in my closet either screams barn-ready or going out to two-step.
My drive into town takes me past the Lawsons’ ranch. What’s he doing right now? Is he sleeping? Probably. He came off a twenty-four hour shift and jumped right in to help us.
The roads are wet from the light rain. The landscape is soft grey and green—promising the coming of spring. I pull into town and find a parking spot in the lot behind the county building. A few are marked with signs sayingFire Inspector Only, but I leave those empty for now.
The next few hours are filled with a stream of paperwork and introductions to the fire marshal, senior inspector and permits clerk. I’m issued a login code, badge and vehicle for field assignments. I’m only at the offices until mid-afternoon, but when orientation is finished, I’m more tired than if I had worked a full day in the farrowing barn.
I check in with Jace once I’m back at the farm, still wearing the outfit I wore to orientation.
“Hey, I’m back,” I shout into the barn.
His head lifts and he smiles a tired smile. “Are you planning on taking notes on the procedures out here?”
“I can change,” I say with a smirk. “Do you need anything?”
“We’re good. This morning was the high point. So far the rest of the sows are resting.”
“Mkay,” I say, turning on my heel and walking to the house to help Mom in the kitchen.
“Hey, beautiful,” she says when I walk through the door and hang my coat on the hook.
I walk over and kiss her cheek. “What can I do to help?”
“Not much. Chop an onion?”
“Sure,” I say, grabbing the knife off the island and pulling the cutting board toward myself.
We work quietly together for a while, moving around one another in a rhythm that comes from years of preparing meals together. I swap out the onion for other vegetables. She dumps the vegetables into a pot where she’s making a sauce. Then she checks the roast in the oven.
“Smells like heaven,” I say, inhaling deeply.
“That’s the bread,” Mom says, pointing toward the double oven on the opposite wall. Then she surprises me by asking, “How was orientation?”
“Tiring—but good. I met everyone I’ll be working with.”
She smiles over at me from her spot at the stove where she’s lifting the lid and stirring.
“I feel like I got sprayed by a firehose filled with protocol and policy.”
