Page 62

Still, calming someone isn’t a skill I possess. Dancing with two-thousand-pound bulls, wrangling wild brothers, now that I can do. Talking down a gorgeous girl in a panic is new to me.

I chance a careful glance at her. “Sure you’re okay?”

“Better now.” Her voice wobbles. “Thanks for…calming me down.” The small smile she gives me fucks with my heartbeat.

“Anytime,” I grunt, and find myself meaning it.

I’ve been acting like an asshole the last week. I think it’s time I fixed that.

During the fifteen-minute walk, I force myself to walk slower, to keep beside her. As we approach an emerald pasture, the air, previously spiced from the smell of whiskey, now takes on a raw, outdoorsy aroma.

“This is Copper Run Ranch.” I stop beneath the iron sign.

She lifts her gaze, then pins it on me. “What kind of animals do you have?”

I point at the barn in the distance. “Horses for day-to-day tasks, but at the sanctuary we have a little bit of everything.”

“I love this already.” Delilah clasps her hands to her chest. “Can I see more?”

“This way.”

The rock beneath our feet melts to earth. Oak trees dot the rolling hills that climb along the landscape until we come to various pens. Above, a large awning creates a canopy of shade. A wooden sign proclaims, “Welcome to the Barnyard.”

“We have ten acres of terrain that we use for the rescues,” I say. Awareness crackles beneath my skin as she slips by me to enter.

I watch Delilah crouch down and croon at each pen. Opossum. Raccoon. Fox. Two speckled piglets. A fawn healing from a fractured leg.

She takes her time with each of the rescues, her lips curving in a serene smile that tells me she loves the sanctuary as much as I do.

Brushing dust from her skirt, Delilah stands, then giggles. “They live in luxury, Cole.”

“They do.” I smother my chuckle. “It’s all we spend our money on. Whiskey and animals.”

She cocks her head. “Could be worse.”

From there, I show her the aviary where we have our wild birds. A red-tailed hawk, barn owl, raven, and dove.

“Next are the cows,” I tell her. “We have Angus and Holsteins and a few other breeds.”

I incline my head, and she follows. I lead her to a fence that backs up to a wide-open pasture. I hold my hands up to my mouth, let out a lowing bellow, and wait.

Within seconds, two fluffy red heads poke up from the herd of black angus. The cows trot happily toward us.

Delilah gasps. “Oh, Cole.” Her hands clasp her heart. “What kind of cows are these? Because I made up my mind, I want a million.”

I run a hand over my smiling mouth. The joy in her eyes is a sight to see. “Highland.” I nod as they approach. “That’s Otis and Neon Star.”

Gaze sliding from me to the cows, Delilah stretches out a hand. She giggles as Otis nuzzles against her outstretched palm. “Fluffy babies,” she croons.

“We rescue and rehome cattle, but we landed these brothers a couple of years ago. Their owners died, and they needed a place to go.”

“I want a thousand of them,” she breathes.

I’d give her a thousand, I think, then shake off the inane thought.

“How’d you go from whiskey to cows?”

I chuckle at her question. “It’s always been whiskey and cows.” I step around her to scratch Neon Star’s shaggy head.