“You sell these?” Shoving my hand beneath an upset hen to get her off her eggs, I wince as I’m pecked a few times before feathers go flying as the hen stubbornly leaves. “Or do you eat them all? There’s a lot to go around.”
Against the wall, Cyrus watches me. Rather than make sure I’m doing things right, it feels like he’s burrowed a hole straight through me, seeing my insides and all. I have to throw a look over my shoulder to get a response out of him.
He tears his eyes away, looking over at the ten other nests I need to check out. “I try to. Some days are better than others. Doesn’t help that those Blackthorne brothers have their own ranch practically next door.”
I remember passing it on the way here. I also remember how unwelcoming it felt just driving past it. If I needed eggs, I don’t think I’d end up at a place like that, just saying.
“You don’t have any signs.” Cradling a new egg, I try to remember what I did see in my approach here yesterday. Now that I think about it, Cyrus’ ranch isn’t very welcoming, either. Especially when it’s owned by a scowling cowboy.
“I’ve got regulars. They know where to find me.”
A scowling,stubborncowboy.
“What if those regulars find someone else? Don’t you want fresh customers? Plus, with the cost of eggs in the grocery store—”
“Are you going for a business degree if the animal care doesn’t work out?” Clearly offended by my advice, he snatches an empty carton and starts collecting eggs as well to make thisgo faster. The sooner he runs out of things to give me to do, the sooner he can send me on my way.
Well, I don’t have any intention of going anywhere. He may as well get used to me. While he’s at it, he can learn to dull out those sharp edges of his.
Biting the inside of my cheek to stop myself from arguing with him, I have to remind myself that I’ve barely even gotten comfortable yet. Maybe I should let at least a week or two pass by before I start criticizing the way he runs things around here. No one likes an outsider giving input so quickly.
Even though I know he hasn’t accepted as much help as I’m willing to give, I can sit back and take notes until that time finally comes. Once he’s lowered his guard enough to let me in, maybe I can do something more than collect eggs. I can help pull him out of this hole he seems to be in.
“Sorry.” Letting the apology out, I watch as the tension in his shoulders slackens just enough to make a difference. “If any go to waste, I’m happy to admit that I am a fan of eggs. Used to eat them every morning when I was younger.” Getting pecked again by the next hen, I keep the conversation flowing. “Ever pickle them?”
He pauses and looks my way. Pinning me with that heavy gaze of his, he squints like he’s looking at something complicated. I don’t miss the way his nostrils flare, probably from frustration since I’m trying to force him to socialize. Then he looks away, continuing to collect, but slower this time. “Had them every way you can think of.”
Finishing off a carton, I swap it out for another empty one, trying not to brush against him in passing, but failing. “Now, if I didn’t know any better, that sounds like a challenge.”
At the sound of a dry laugh, I pocket it as a small win. A new noise to add to my collection of Cyrus noises, I get the urge to try and see what else I can draw out of him.
Only time will tell, and we’ve got plenty of it to explore.
3
Cyrus
Just when I think time will drag by while having company around, Millie’s happy to prove me wrong in every way possible. Time is coasting forward, moving in a blur. Still, the suffering remains the same either way.
It feels like pure torture having her around. Every morning, by the time I’ve woken up, she already has a pot of coffee waiting for me and a plate of food ready to be consumed. Can’t rush off and get started if she’s forcing me to eat with her.
Here I am making it sound like the worst thing to happen in the world, when in fact… I don’t mind it as much as I should. It’s been quite… pleasant to have someone around. Someone who can carry on a conversation, at least. The animals are wonderful listeners, but they’re useless when it comes to replying.
Maybe I’m lonelier than I care to admit. Having company is nice and all, even if the thought of her leaving eventually is simmering beneath everything.
We’re already on day four. Four days of lowering my guard in a way I never have before. Doesn’t help that Millie isn’t trying to be shy when it comes down to knocking down my walls. Sometimes, I don’t think she knows she’s doing it, either. She’s a force to be reckoned with.
Like when she offers to refill my cup, a smaller cup she’s placed by my breakfast instead of my usual go-to tumbler, she leans over me in a way that makes the temptation of drinking her too impossible to fight against. Hell, just breathing in that addictive sweet scent is a temptation in itself. Something fruity like tangerines.
It’s that body wash she uses. I hate to admit that I’ve breathed it in during my last shower just to confirm my suspicions. Shamefully, my body reacted the same way it always does. For someone who looks so damn innocent, my cock doesn’t know any better but to do the most vile things, reacting and stiffening at any reminder of her.
At least I was in the best place to get her out of my system without her having the slightest clue. Now, it’s hard to meet her gaze without thinking of what I’d done. Instead of feeling shame for my actions, I’m more concerned about a repeat of the past and what I might do if she’s near me the next time it happens.
Damn body has a mind of its own.That’swhat really has me nervous.
This morning, she’s already got a cup full by the time I stroll inside. Already ready to throw on my boots and just get started to avoid any awkward run-ins, I silence the demand and sit at the table.
While I take a sip, I watch her fuss around with the oven. How long has she already been awake? Despite being a light sleeper, I may as well have been dead to the world. I couldn’t tell the difference.
