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Both Leah and Tilly stay rooted to their spots, and I hold up one finger. “Give me a minute. I need to check on something before we proceed.”
Without delay, I turn on my heel and hobble toward the truck where my bag sits inside the back seat. Handheld radio in my hand, I hit the button and signal over to my oldest and most reliable ranch hand.
“Tiny, where are ya?”
The speaker screeches and squeals, but within thirty seconds, he’s responding.
“Still over at the stalls. Need somethin’?”
“Yeah,” I answer. “Ronald had to leave. Need ya to take over bull sperm collection.”
“No shit?” he retorts, and I don’t miss the amusement in his damn voice. “You finally realizin’ you gotta stop tryin’ to do everything?”
Nosy bastard. I roll my eyes. “Just shut up and get over here, all right?”
“Copy that.”
After I slide the radio into the back pocket of my jeans, I head back toward Leah and Tilly. Thankfully, they’re both right where I left them—Tilly still keeping one of our females in place and Leah standing there with the fucking tube in her hand, only a few feet away from the next bull.
“Tilly, take a ten-minute break,” I instruct. “Leah, follow me.”
“What?” she asks, waving the tube around in confusion. “Where are we going?”
“We got somewhere else to be.”
She squints toward me. “But I didn’t collect any of the sperm…?”
“Tiny’s gonna take over.”
“Why?” she retorts, putting her free hand to her hip. “You don’t think I can do this?”
“Never said that, darlin’. We just got somethin’ else we need to do.”
“But you’re thinking it.” She narrows her eyes, and when I realize she isn’t going to budge from her spot, I step forward to get the process moving quicker.
“I’m not thinkin’ anything,” I say and reach out to take the tube from her hand, but she yanks the damn thing away.
“You don’t think I can handle this,” she spits. “What? You think I’m too girlie for this or something? That this is men’s work and the women should be back home in the kitchen cooking meals? That’s misogyny at its finest, Rhett.”
Oh sweet Jesus. This situation has nothing to do with me being sexist. It has to do with me feeling badly for putting her in this situation in the first place, given her lack of experience with this sort of shit. If this is the thanks I get for calling it off, though, I’m not entirely sure why I’ve bothered.
“Darlin’, I never said any of that.” I sigh and reach out to take the sleeve again, but she pulls it farther away from me.
“It’s not the flipping fifties, you know,” she continues on her ramblin’ rampage. “Women can do everything men can do. If we want to jerk off bulls into a fake cow pussy, we can do it.”
Tilly chokes on his own saliva when the word pussy falls from Leah’s lips.
And here, I was worried I was going to traumatize her. Ha. This woman is so fucking stubborn that she’s now fighting me over collecting a bull’s sperm.
If I weren’t so damn annoyed, I might actually be amused.
“Leah, relax,” I state, and despite my rising irritation, I try my best to calm her down. “I’m well aware you can do this. Truly. No one is doubting that.” I glance at Tilly. “Right, Till?”
But all he can offer is a manic nod with wide eyes. Poor kid is about to be the only one walking away from this situation traumatized.
“Then let me do it,” she declares with that sassy free hand of hers on her hip again. “This bull wants to get his rocks off, and I want to help him get his rocks off. So, go away and let me collect the sperm.”
Christ. Leah Levee might be more fucking obstinate than me.
Never in a million years did I think I’d be arguing with a woman over something like this, but here I am.
“What are y’all doin’ here?” Tiny’s voice fills my ears, and I glance over my shoulder to see him walking up toward us.
I sigh.
Tilly just stands there looking like a deer in headlights, confused as hell over what to do.
But Leah? Oh, she’s confident in her task. “Just trying to collect sperm, but Rhett appears either insistent on slowing us all down, or he doesn’t think I can do it. I’m guessing it’s probably a little of both.”
“Is that right?” Tiny smirks and glances between the two of us.
We’re basically in a Wild-West-style standoff, and it’s all over the cow vagina sleeve still gripped tightly in Leah’s hand.
“Yep,” she answers, glaring at me.
But her words don’t stop Tiny. He strides right past me and directly to her, and without saying anything, he takes the tube out of her hand.
“I’m sure ya’d do a fine job, Doc. But see, my mama—may she rest in peace—she’d spin in her grave if she knew I’d let a pretty woman like you be involved in a dirty task like this when I could’a done it for ya.”
