Ranching was dangerous work. Someone could get killed if their attention lapsed because of a pair of long sexy legs and a blue-ribbon ass.
My dick stirred and I bit back the urge to swear out loud.
“What is that?” a regressive Y chromosome impelled me to say out loud. Both women turned to look at me. Laurel glared while Sydney’s forehead wrinkled, my tone clearly knocking the poise out of her. Sadly, only for a brief moment. A beat later she shook off the confusion and leveled a flat stare on me.
“What are you wearing?” I clarified.
“Leggings…and a fleece,” she said, annunciating it slowly––like she considered me an idiot.
“Your pants are see-through. I can see skin. You can’t wear those here.” My jeans were growing increasingly uncomfortable.
“That’s New York fashion, Scott,” Laurel cut in, having appointed herself my wife’s attorney less than a minute after meeting her. “Or have you forgotten already?” Then, turning to Sydney. “Those are real cute.”
“I could bring you a pair when I get back from the city,” my wife offered with a smile. I didn’t like it.
“Oh no, sweetie. You gotta have long legs to wear those and I’m barely five feet.”
“Scott, that old sunavabitch bull…” Ryan walked through the door and stopped short at the sight of Sydney standing in the middle of the room, his voice fading to silence as his unblinking eyes openly appraised her.
Removing his work gloves, he stuck his hand out. “Ryan Sutter. Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Blackstone.” The last was said with a teasing note in his voice and a good-for-nothing, one-sided grin. I didn’t like it, my temper sparking.
Smiling, Sydney shook his hand. “Call me Sydney.”
I didn’t like that either.
Ryan’s smile grew wider, the right side lifting to mirror the left side. “Will do.”
“Ryan––” I finally barked because I didn’t like any of this shit.
Ryan’s attention reluctantly turned to me. “Tiny is giving us trouble again. Won’t breed and won’t let any of the younger bulls near the ladies. I gotta take him out.”
“Take him out?” Sydney suddenly spoke up, a concerned look on her face.
That look called to all the reasons she didn’t belong here. Why she didn’t belong with me. “Babydoll, look around you. This isn’t Woketopia. If having animals ethically put down is an issue, you’re not going to like living on a working cattle ranch.”
Silence. Both Laurel and Ryan frowned at me. Sydney simply stared. Not even a vague semblance of a reaction to my microagression. Could I have said it with a little more delicacy? Maybe. But I was fresh out of patience––my erection being the primary cause, an erection that I was too damn old to be having in the middle of the day.
Ryan gave Sydney a sympathetic smile. “I meant put him in a smaller pasture by himself. Problem is, he gets harder to handle when he’s all by his lonesome. Gets meaner––like most males.” My best friend aimed an accusing glare my way. “But we don’t have a choice at this point. He hurt one of the younger bulls pretty bad.”
“Let’s give him another week to see if he’ll breed,” I told him. “If not, we’ll have to get rid of him.” I put my head down, went back to pretending to check out the inventory spreadsheets. If I continued to stare at my wife, I’d embarrass myself. Meanwhile, Ryan crossed the room to pour himself a cup of coffee.
“Pete and I would love to have you over for dinner this week,” I heard Laurel jabber on. “Tomorrow night, Scott?”
I looked up from my computer screen to find both women watching me.
“Can’t tomorrow.”
Laurel’s face pinched. “Wednesday then.”
Lips pressed tight, I scratched under my chin. “I don’t know. I’ll have to see.”
“Friday,” Laurel tried once again, her lips thinning.
“I’ll let you know.”
My gaze flickered over to Sydney. She was wearing her go-to blank expression while Laurel and I went at it.
“Sydney––” Laurel started when her impatience with me reached critical level. “Why don’t we go to lunch on Friday. I could show you around town. Would you like that?”
Relief spread on Sydney’s face and an uncomfortable feeling parked itself over my chest.
“That would be great. Should I meet you here?” she said.
“Works for me,” Laurel cheerfully replied. What the hell was there to be so cheerful about? “The drive will give us time to get to know each other.”
Fuck. I had to put a stop to this. “Don’t we have the feed delivery coming that day?”