He’d kissed Violet with a kiss that surpassed all other kisses.
Sterling leaned his head against the stall rail and tried to drag in a breath, but he couldn’t get air into his lungs. He hadn’t been able to draw in a full breath since walking out of the house an hour ago.
Thatcher stood in the haymow with pestle and mortar, the rest of his vaccination supplies spread out on a makeshift table. The process of administering the vaccine was laborious since he had to crush each vaccine individually, mix it with water, then pour it into a glass funnel with a linen filter. From there it was placed into a syringe and injected into the steer’s shoulder.
Sterling had been trying to pay attention to the veterinarian’s explanation about the steers and the vaccines and what he’d accomplished over the past few days. But the only thing going through Sterling’s head was a replay of the kiss and every single second with Violet from the moment she’d gently caressed the furrow in his brow, run her finger along his jaw, then tangled her fingers into his hair.
Each touch had been like striking flint, sending sparks flying in the air. Then she’d arched up, and before he’d realized what she was doing, her lips had met his warmly, firmly, and then begun moving passionately.
He’d tried to hold himself back. But the sparks had set him aflame in an instant, and he’d burned with the need to kiss herback, almost as if he’d had no choice. As if she had power over him and he was helpless to do anything but be swept away with her.
He pressed his thumbs into his eyes to block out the image of her beautiful flushed face and her green eyes peering up at him with desire. But the image wouldn’t go away. It was seared into his mind.
Why had she kissed him?
He thought he’d made it clear that he didn’t want to consider a future with her again. He’d kept a respectable distance, hadn’t flirted, and hadn’t encouraged her in any way. Did she think his inviting her to live on the ranch and be the maid meant he was interested in more?
Of course, he would always think she was stunning and desirable and incredible. But he’d already tried a relationship with her once, had even tried to marry her. And it hadn’t worked.
They’d both made mistakes. He realized that now. And he’d apologized for his role in all that had gone wrong in their relationship. But he didn’t want to pursue her again. How many times did he need to tell himself that?
“Are you listening, boss?” Beckett’s voice cut through Sterling’s internal battle.
Sterling lifted his head from the stall rail and glanced first at the steer that had been brought inside to be vaccinated, then to Beckett and Thatcher.
Thatcher was a fair-haired man with the stocky build of a Midwestern farmer who was used to working the land. Growing up on a farm had given him firsthand knowledge of livestock in addition to his college training in veterinary school. Sterling wasn’t sure why the fellow had moved to their remote part of Colorado, but he wasn’t complaining. He liked Thatcher’s compassion and helpfulness and determination.
Even if the vaccine didn’t end up stopping the blackleg and only slowed its spread, at least Thatcher had done everything humanly possible to help.
“You’re mighty distracted.” Beckett was leaning against the opposite stall, one boot hooked on a rung, waiting to lead the newly vaccinated steer to a holding area with other beeves that were being monitored for reactions to the vaccine.
“Sorry.” Sterling scrubbed a hand down his jaw and chin, the thick layer of stubble in need of a shave. But the movement only reminded him of Violet’s touch on his jaw and the heat she’d left in her wake.
Beckett’s eyes narrowed upon Sterling. “You kissed her, didn’t you?”
Sterling avoided his foreman’s gaze, not sure how to answer the question. Should he admit the truth and risk Beckett scolding him? Or should he lie and deny it with the hope of avoiding a confrontation?
“Dad-blame-it.” Beckett’s voice dripped with censure. “You did.”
Looked like Beckett had answered the question for him. The man was too insightful and could usually read Sterling well.
“What did you go and do a stupid thing like that for?” Beckett pushed away from the stall and tipped up the brim of his hat.
It had beenreallystupid.
Thatcher, in the middle of grinding the vaccine with the mortar, paused and raised his brow.
Sterling ignored the veterinarian and fixed a glare on Beckett. “Thought we were keeping things private.”
“Reckon we’re private here, right, Thatcher?” Beckett’s voice, though casual, also held a veiled threat.
“Very private.” Thatcher began the tedious process of crushing a new batch of the vaccine. “Although, you should know that when I was in town last night at the livery, stitchingup a horse, I got a question or two about how Sterling had skied out to a cabin he owns to help out the Berkley women.”
Sterling’s backbone stiffened. His helping the women was supposed to remain a secret.
Beckett spat the hay out of his mouth and took a menacing step toward Thatcher, as if the veterinarian were to blame for spreading the word.
Thatcher stopped grinding and held up both hands, one grasping the pestle. “Don’t look at me. I didn’t say anything. I pretended I didn’t know what the folks at the livery were talking about.”
