We didn’t make a deal, Janey.
My heart stutters. He’s right. We didn’t.
That’s where I went wrong. We should have agreed on a plan and made a decision rather than tumbling into a barn to fuck. They’re not strangers. They’re Caleb and Wade’s cousins. As long as I’m friends with Joelle, they’ll be in my life. And I plan on holding her friendship tight.
I stare at Mason’s last message.We didn’t make a deal.
No, I reply.But we should have.
Chapter 5
Janey
The next few days pass in a strange blur of normalcy and secret heat. I go back to work as if nothing happened. I show up at the clinic, drive out for farm calls, vaccinate calves, stitch up a horse that got tangled in barbed wire, and smile politely at the ranchers who call me “little lady” even though I’ve been doing this job for a while and deserve a different kind of respect. On the outside, I’m the same competent, calm Janey everyone expects.
On the inside, I’m a mess.
Every time I sit down, I feel the deep ache between my legs and remember exactly how I got it. When I catch sight of my reflection in the rear-view mirror, I still see the faint shadow of a hickey on my neck that makeup barely hides, and at night, when the house is too quiet, my body remembers what it felt like to be possessed by two strongmen so completely.
My phone has become both a blessing and a torment.
The messages that started the same day I arrived home haven’t stopped.
Brookes: Hope the drive wasn’t too rough on you. Those bumpy back roads can be brutal after a long night.
I smiled despite myself and answered honestly.
Me: A little sore, but I survived.
I wanted to ask about how they were. Do men get sore after sex? I’m sure they overused some muscles in the process of manhandling me, but then again, they’re used to wrangling bigger animals. But I was so wary of making this what it isn’t supposed to be, I sent a smiley face emoji and walked away from my phone for a while.
From there, Brookes set up a group chat. An actual group chat. He definitely didn’t get the memo on how to walk away from a one-night stand.
The messages were consistent enough that I started looking forward to the buzz of my phone and found it impossible to leave them unanswered.
Mason: Finished moving cattle to the north pasture. Dusty as hell out here. What about you? Are you working today?
Me: Clinic in the morning, then heading out to the Thompson ranch to check on some pregnant heifers.
Brookes: You deal with a lot of ornery animals, don’t you?
Me: More than you’d think. The human ones are the worst. Some of the animals are sweeter than others, though.
Mason: Sounds like our kind of work. Except oursusually weigh a thousand pounds and have horns.
Brookes: Mason got kicked by a yearling yesterday. Swears he’s fine, but he’s limping like an old man.
Mason: Traitor.
I find myself laughing alone in my truck more than once.
They ask small questions that slowly paint a picture of who they are outside of that barn.
Brookes: What kind of music do you listen to when you’re driving between calls?
Me: A bit of everything, but I love old country and folk. Johnny Cash, Loretta Lynn, and some Chris Stapleton when I want something newer. What about you two?
Mason: Classic rock for me — Zeppelin, Eagles, Willie Nelson when I’m feeling sentimental.
