I brought out mytablet and checked my to-do list, making sure I knew what I was doing. Since this was my first time in the field, I couldn’t mess it up. This could be what propelled me to the next step in my career. I needed to collect samples for the lab, but decided I would do that later, since it would require much more concentration, and my mind really wasnoton the job.
My eyes wandered to my current fixation—again. Brooks was bent over toward the fence, assessing the damage, in another pair of skintight jeans and a Henley, which did nothing to hide the muscles about to burst from the material.
I shook my head, forcing myself to glance away. Checking out the client was highly unprofessional, not to mention creepy.
I began to snap photos, starting with the cows in the barn. It was large and red, with white beams running across the top; basically like any photo of a barn I’d come across.
What the pictures didn't show was the smell. It was for sure not pleasant, and I resisted the urge to cover my nose. Despite that hiccup, everything looked clean: the stalls were all well-kept, and the cows seemed to have plenty of space.
Most of them were outside, having been let out just moments ago. It looked like the scene of a movie. There were rolling hills and cows grazing lazily, it was scenic in a way I’d never experienced.
When I turned to the side, I almost swallowed my tongue. Over there was Brooks, now shirtless, lifting some heavy-looking wood and moving it out to where the fence was broken. He had a slight tan that I only assumed got darker in the summer, when he’d be out in the sun all day. His biceps flexed with the strain, showing off his toned body and large shoulders even more. He had a bit of hair on his chest, certainly more than most humans, and his jeans covered where I assumed the hair on his legs started.
Gods, I’d never see a body like that in the city.
Realizing how long I'd been gawking, I whipped around, focusing back on my work. If he had noticed I would have been mortified.
I quickly scribbled down some notes, then took photos of the cows in the field. Once I was done, and despite my best judgment, I looked back at Brooks, who was busy hammering wood together and looking too hot for his own good.
I decided not to bother him and went out further into the field, toward the cows. I'd never seen one up close before, and they seemed to be used to people, letting me get pretty close.
I walked right up to one that was just grazing. When it lifted its head, I smiled. It had a cute face, with a big nose and a black spot over its eye that looked almost like a heart. I didn't realize before how large cows really were, coming right up to my face.
I held my hand out, and it rubbed its head against me. It was softer than I thought it would be. I was moving it down toward its nose when it opened its mouth and a long tongue stuck out and licked my hand.
"Ah!"
I pulled back, shocked at the touch.
"Cows lick people they like," Brooks’s voice said from behind me, and I jumped, not expecting him to be there.
He laughed, and I noticed he’d pulled his flannel on, but unbuttoned, with his chest peeking through. He was slightly sweaty, but for all the work he'd done, he looked fairly relaxed.
"I didn't know that," I admitted. It was nice to think the cow liked me, though. "Are you done?"
"Not quite. I need one of the guys to hold up the pieces while I screw them in, so I'll need to wait until someone’s free."
"I could help," I offered.
He gave me a skeptical look.
I crossed my arms, irritation filling me. "What's that look for?”
He held up his hands in feigned innocence. "I didn't say anything."
"But your face did."
"I just... don't want to make you do work you don't have to."
"Well, I'm perfectly capable," I said, rolling my blazer sleeves up. "Let's go."
I started walking over to the hole in the fence, determined to help him. How hard could holding a board in place be? Did he think I was that incompetent? Just because I was from the city didn’t mean I didn't understand hard work.
Brooks came up beside me. "I already put the pieces together," he explained. "I can hold them up since they're heavy while you screw the sides in."
He held out the electric drill, and I took it. When I pressed the trigger, it started to whirl; the sound surprised me, and it had a kickback that I didn’t expect. It was now I realized I’d never even held one. I hadn't even hung the heavier frames I bought for some of my photos because I didn't want to screw them into the wall.
I didn't want to prove Brooks right, though, so I grabbed one of the screws and tried to line it up with the premade hole as he waited patiently, not reacting at all to my pace.
