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Glancing over at Hank, I notice he’s only eating pancakes.
“No bacon for you?” I ask.
“I’m a vegetarian,” he answers, placing a bite of pancake into his mouth.
I snort a laugh. The idea tickles me. But no one else laughs with me. Instead, they stare at me like I have a few screws loose.
“Wait, are you serious?”
Hank smiles as he chews, then swallows. “Hattie, I’m an animal lover. I can’t eat em’.”
“You old softie,” Lincoln says in a teasing tone I didn’t know he was capable of.
“Didn’t you notice the veggie burgers we had a few nights ago?” Hank asks.
My eyes widen, remembering the incredible hamburger we had—er, not ham, I guess. “Those were vegetarian? They tasted amazing.”
“Dad and I have found some decent recipes over the years,” Hank says with a glance at Otto. “I’ve almost got the old man eating entirely vegetarian these days.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Otto shakes his head in dismay but can’t hide his smile. Now that everyone is served, he takes his plate and settles onto the last barstool on the other side of Hank. “Some of your recipes are pretty damn good.”
“Why do you think I eat breakfast at home?” The voice comes in a deep rumble close to my ear.
I whip my head around and come face to face with Lincoln. Did he just…speak to me? Of his own free will?
Up close, I can see the roughness of his skin from being outside in the sun. I can make out the tiny lines around his eyes from smiling…or from frowning. And I can see the deep caramel-brown of his eyes. Like whiskey.
I turn away from him quickly. Not wanting to get lost in those eyes when they’re on the face of someone who shows nothing but disdain for me. I never liked whiskey, anyway.
“So,” Lincoln says between sips. “Is anyone going to enlighten me on the sperm conversation?”
“Hattie thinks we should update the website and add some new options,” Hank answers. “She suggested looking into artificial insemination for another revenue outlet.”
“Not everything is about money. The operation you run here is about breeding quality and keeping a close eye on the whole process.” Lincoln hums. “And Jockey Club prohibits the use of artificial insemination for Thoroughbred racehorses, right?”
Of course he’d counter my idea. “You’re right, there are restrictions for racehorses. But not everyone needs a racehorse,” I answer.
Lincoln can pick apart everything I say, but in this subject, I know more than he does. I bite my tongue to hold myself back from arguing with him further. I won’t give him the satisfaction of provoking me. Instead, I calmly glance at Hank to watch how he responds.
Hank nods. “That’s true. But artificial insemination would allow us to give buyers more options, depending on what they’re looking for.”
Lincoln appears to contemplate this. “Yeah, that’s a good point.”
I hold back a sigh. He’ll agree with Hank, but not me.
Lincoln turns his gaze on me. “I guess it’s not such a terrible idea.”
I lock eyes with him, attempting to hide my surprise that he’s giving me credit. Lincoln doesn’t look away, and neither do I. We stare at each other, a silent standoff…or a truce. I can’t decide.
CHAPTER 12
Lincoln
Being in Hattie’s presence is a heady, full-body experience. As her eyes bore into mine with that challenging, stubborn glint, my body buzzes with my attraction to her. And I’m deeply regretting that I didn’t put up a fight when Hank texted me last night with his idea for today.
When I got back from Bobcat’s last night, he texted saying he thought it would be fun for Hattie to spend the day with us as we work. I know he just wants to spend as much time with her as possible, to show her what he does…but I’m not confident my nervous system can handle being near her all damn day.
Plus, she’s not used to physical labor.
