I am sprawled out on the ground in the pen, Kelly Clarkson blaring through the speakers, with baby goats using my body as a trampoline. I can’t stop laughing. I am giggling so hard that I can’t breathe, even when one of them grabs my hair in its mouth and runs away, nearly taking my head with it.
I slide my eyes to the gate, where Boston is watching with his arms tossed over the top. He grins down at me, green eyes twinkling, his smile genuine. I want to ask him to join me, to beg him to get in here and experience this magic with me, but I can’t get a word out with how hard I’m laughing.
I don’t need to ask, anyway. He enters the pen, his eyes glued to my face, and crosses his arms in front of his chest as he hovers above me.
“Come on!” I say, still in hysterics. “Join the fun.”
“Oh, I am going to.” He dips his chin. “I was just giving you a chance to enjoy it, because there is no way in hell that they will give you any attention once I drop my ass on the ground.”
“They like me!” I argue, letting out a grunt when one does a spinning kick off my stomach.
“They like everyone,” he says with a deep, rumbling laugh. “Theyloveme.”
Proving his point, he drops onto his butt against the gate. All the goats stop in their tracks, Kelly Clarkson still blasting, and they storm toward him like a colony of ants on steroids.
I sit up on my elbows, watching him catch half of them in one arm. He pets a few while juggling the others, pressing his lips to one of the full grown goat’s heads—this one desperate to cuddle him.
I’m smiling so hard that my face actually hurts.
His eyes find mine above the chaos. He grins, not complaining about the trampling, not scolding any of them. And I realize that Boston might not want children, but he already has kids. A bunch of them. And cows. And dogs. He already has a whole family of his own.
He’s caring. Nurturing. He has a ton of love to give, even if he doesn’t realize it.
Watching animals adore a man, and watching that man adore them right back, it is impeccably attractive. A feeling stirs deep in my gut that I have not felt in ages. It flutters and soars and makes me feel a bit woozy when I breathe.
Butterflies.
My smile slowly fades.
Shit.
We spend some more time in the field with the dogs. Since Wanton already loves me, he sticks by my side and gets extra special attention. I’m playing favourites with absolutely no shame. I don’t even feel a bit guilty. He’s got seniority in my heart. By the time we’re done, the sun is setting, and Boston lets me feed the cows before we trudge back inside, my heart completely fulfilled.
“Shower?” he murmurs.
“Me or you?” I ask, glancing over my shoulder.
He smirks. “Both.”
I shrug. “I’m feeling a little dirty.”
He rushes me, hands sliding around my waist from behind, his chin on my shoulder as he hauls me back to his chest. “Aren’t you always?”
I laugh, rushing forward to beat him to the bathroom. He catches me quickly and then we’re tearing off each other’s clothes and our bodies are intertwined, mouths exploring, breathing heavy. He takes me against the wall and I nearly collapse when I finish, but he manages to keep me upright until he follows behind. He washes my hair and I wash his. He kisses me under the spray of water and I kiss him back.
It’s little things like this. Everything is so fun with him. So effortless.
Finally done wasting water, Boston dries me off and wraps an oversized robe around my body.
I pull him back to my mouth the second the tie is fastened.
Neither of us hear the car pull up. Neither of us hear the dogs barking to give us a heads up, either. Neither of us hear footsteps on the porch or the door swing open, but we do hear him scream as he enters the house.
“Boss!”
We both freeze.
Carter.
