"You mentioned Arora's sole focus is breeding stock, and I can tell most of the herd we've seen today is docile. Do you breed rodeo bulls?" Asha asks, and I can't help but wonder if she's asking because of my past, because of the story I told her about my father not wanting me to ride.
"We do. We keep them separate from this herd. The two are raised differently. Dar would like to walk through that part of the ranch with you," Mateo advises, extending his arm for us to continue our tour.
We continue to the northern pasture where Mateo points out their rotational grazing system, explaining how they move the bulls every two weeks to prevent overgrazing and maintain soil health. He talks about their water infrastructure, solar-powered wells, and a network of pipes that keep every pasture hydrated even in the brutal summer months. For the most part, he isn't saying anything I didn't already know. I have plenty of land to sustain and grow a herd; however, if I want to go big, I will need to look into solar-powered wells.
"Dar's invested heavily in sustainability," he says, kicking at a sprinkler head. "Pays off in the long run. Our grass stays greener longer, bulls stay healthier, and we can support more head per acre than most operations out here."
By afternoon, I've caught myself looking over my shoulder three more times, unable to shake the feeling of being watched, but not just in a passing sense, as you would someone in the store. It's that deep-seated feeling of being watched. Maybe it's just paranoia. I'm grateful for the tour, but I want to meet Dar and start talking to people who matter. I'm anxious to start strategizing and talking numbers.
"You alright?" Asha asks.
I realize I've stopped walking and am staring back toward the house. "Yeah," I say, forcing my attention forward. "Just taking it all in."
Mateo studies me for a moment then checks his watch. "Well, we've covered most of the operation. Why don't I show you to your room? You'll want to freshen up before dinner. Dar should be back by seven."
We walk back toward the main house, our boots crunching on the dry grass. The sun is lower now, but it's still warm. Inside, the house is cool, all thick walls and terracotta tile. Mateo leads us up a wide staircase and down a hallway lined with landscape paintings and old photographs of the ranch from various decades.
"You'll be staying in the blue room," he says, stopping at a heavy wooden door. "Private bathroom, and the windows face east, so you'll get good morning light. There are fresh towels in the bathroom.”
"Oh, we aren't staying. We have a place in the city," Asha informs him.
Mateo frowns, and his face suddenly looks worried. "It's just to freshen up," I add. He must not have known we weren't staying, and I don't want to come off as an ungrateful houseguest.
He pushes the door open, revealing a spacious room with a four-poster bed, Southwestern textiles, and windows overlooking the front garden and the distant porch where I'd seen the man earlier.
"Dinner is at seven in the main dining room, back down the stairs and to your left. Cocktails at six-thirty if you want to join us early." He tips his hat again, that lingering look at Asha. "I'll let you two get settled."
When he's gone, I move to the window, scanning the property, and Asha flops onto the bed.
"What does AI mean? He kept using that term, and I couldn't for the life of me put it together," she asks, clearly flustered that she didn't have the answer to something for once.
"Artificial insemination," I answer evenly, turning from the window.
"Gah, I can't believe I couldn't come up with that." Palm to forehead, she adds, "I should have known that."
"Nah, you're used to horses," I say, unbuttoning the top button of my polo, for comfort. "Thoroughbreds still have strict laws against AI breeding. It's not something we often encounter every day in the arenas we work in."
She kicks her feet and pounds her fists against the bed like a small child throwing a tantrum. I've never seen her lose control. Even when she's on the attack, she does it with complete, practiced control, as if she knew her opponent's move before they made it. Asha is smart; she's smarter than smart. And while I think it's cute that something stumped her, I know that can only mean her attention is divided. She's here, but her mind isn't.So where is it?
Then calmly, she stares at the ceiling and asks, "What are we supposed to do for the next hour?"
"I'd be more than happy to walk through the differences between AI and natural conception. Maybe you need a refresher. Knocking off the dust might help bring it all back," I say, casually leaning against the bedpost. "I can take off my clothes or you?—"
"You're joking, right?" she deadpans.
"Only if you want me to be," I say with a devilish smile.Definitely not joking.
She grabs her chest and mocks silent laughter.
"Laugh all you want. I just didn't want you to show up to dinner ill-prepared. I know how you hate it when you're not the smartest person in the room."
"Stop…" she exaggerates, the word drawn out with playful exhaustion before rolling to her side. Propping her head up on her bent arm, she studies me with those calculating eyes.
The playfulness between us dissolves into something heavier, and I can't hold her gaze.
"You should go freshen up," I finally manage, my voice rougher than I intended as I nod toward the bathroom. "I'll go after you."
She doesn't move immediately, just watches me with an expression I can't quite read. Then she slides off the bed, padding barefoot across the room. When the bathroom door clicks shut, I find my way to the loveseat and sit heavily before dropping my head back against the pillows and closing my eyes.
