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“It’s near the end of calving season. I’m checking on them to make sure everyone is good, but as of yesterday, there were fifty-three in this pasture.”

“Fifty-three babies!” I squeaked in excitement.

He laughed as he reached around me, and I involuntarily stiffened, unsure of what he was doing. He paused, searching my eyes as he grasped the seat belt strap.

“Oh, I was going to get it,” I wheezed out. His nearness made me feel like I couldn’t take a full breath.

My hand brushed his, and a zing ran through my body. What was that? I fastened the buckle into place and found my chain again to settle my nerves.

“Always wear a seatbelt, Pretty Girl.” The weight of his words stopped me.

“I always do,” I responded.

He nodded. I wished I could read him better. His face wasn’t expressive in big ways, but there were micro expressions, like a slight lift of an eyebrow, that could be missed if you weren’t watching closely.

Soren was all square jawline and stubble.

He turned on the key in the ignition and some archaic version of wailing country music began playing from the speakers on the dash.

“What is this? Do you listen to old people’s country music?” That was surprising. He coughed out a laugh.

“Old people country music?” he finally snorted out in mock offense, one of his perfect eyebrows quirking.

“Yeah . . . ” There was something about being in this place that made me feel free and more lighthearted.

“These are the classics,” he spoke with exaggerated reverence and then turned to smile at me while he made a turn.

“Wow. I never figured you for old people’s music . . . ” I tipped my head, biting back a smile.

“You don’t even know my age. Maybe I am old,” he reasoned, still smiling. His hazel eyes danced with mirth.

“According to your taste in music?” I tapped my finger on my chin and tipped my head. “Ninety-eight?” I guessed. He scoffed, grinning.

“Thirty-three.” His hands flexed on the steering wheel.

“See! Too young for old people’s music.” I reasoned with a smile.

“Alright, for this blasphemy I’m going to teach you all about the classics!” he declared.

For the next twenty minutes, we talked about all things music. I told him that I enjoyed the newer country style, which he asserted wasn’t even country, it was pop. I enjoyed our back and forth teasing because it made me relax before I even realized it. The stress of the week melted away. He made me stop over-analyzing everything and completely be in the moment. All the muscles that were tight from stress relaxed, and I enjoyed seeing glimpses of his world.

We entered a field with dozens of cows and calves. The smile on my face was somewhat ridiculous, but I couldn’t stop it. The calves were fuzzy and adorable. There was a calf that was freshly born. It was still stumbling around, learning to walk on wobbly legs. The cows mostly ignored us as we drove except for a few that raised their large heads to see what we were up to. I brought my hands together under my chin in excitement.

“Do they have names?”

“They have ear tags. There’s too many to name.” He gestured toward a particularly cute calf.

“Everyone deserves a name!”

“Have at it, but good luck trying to remember them all.” He smiled and gestured toward the herd. He did have a point.

“Hmmm . . . maybe I can name one cow and one calf?” I observed them for a moment, deciding which pair I should choose.

“That would be easier to keep track of.” He pulled out an iPad from the glove box and began noting information on the herd.

“Hmmm. Which one has the best personality?” I asked.

His laugh made my insides all tingly.