Straddling the Fence (2 page)

“Did you?”

“No,” he said, and she believed him. “But still…”

“I didn’t either, Eli, and my gut says I can trust you.” His
slow, cocky grin made her own smile return. “Plus, I texted your name and tag
number to a friend of mine in case you strangle me with the phone cord later.”

He grabbed his chest, wincing. “Jesus, woman, you sure know
how to hurt a guy.”

Bellamy switched to the bottle of water she’d brought
outside with her. “Oh please. You’ve got
heartbreaker
written all over
you. I’m surprised you’re not out partying with your buddies at one of the
local bars, trolling sad buckle bunnies in need of comfort after not scoring
themselves a bull rider.”

“Not gonna lie. I might’ve done that very thing, until I saw
you stompin’ your way to the liquor store with a frown on that beautiful face,
which was a damn shame. I figured I had one chance. If you shot me down, I’d
tuck my tail between my legs and go drown my sorrows with my friends.”

She shook her head. “If I shot you down, there’d be a
hundred more girls ready and willing to take my place.”

He leaned closer, lowered his voice. “But you didn’t, and
now look at us, gettin’ cozier than biscuits and honey. At the rate we’re
goin’, I’ll be proposin’ over breakfast.”

Scratching at the label on her water bottle with a
thumbnail, she forced the butterflies in her stomach to behave. She shouldn’t
like Eli this much after spending less than two hours in his company. Saying
goodbye in a few more was already a weirdly uncomfortable thought to entertain.

Metal chair legs scraped as he dropped his feet to the
concrete and stood. She peered up at him, wondering what he was going to do
next. Hopefully toss her over his shoulder and haul her to bed.

Instead, he held out his hand, his voice somber when he
spoke. “Dance with me, cowgirl.”

Her legs were shaky as she straightened from the chair, but
Eli’s arm sliding around her waist steadied her.

She’d only
thought
the pull between them was strong
when he was sitting three feet away. Being snugged against his warm, solid
frame from chest to thigh was like closing an electrical circuit. A low-level
wave of desire pulsed throughout her body, radiating heat beneath her skin at
all their shared contact points.

The large hand splayed at the waistband of her jeans kept
their lower halves pressed together while his left hand took her right and
curled it against his chest. Their booted feet interlaced like gear cogs. For a
moment, she couldn’t discern the music over the sound of blood rushing through
her ears in time to her thudding heartbeats. She focused and picked up the low
bass line of the song, using it to find a rhythm. There was no need. The
seductive sway of Eli’s hips and the hard, hot evidence of just how much he
wanted her branding her hip was enough to keep her moving in a slow tempo.

When she tipped her head back to look at his face, his eyes
were darkened shadows, but she knew they were trained on her mouth. She could
feel it like a physical touch, making her jaw relax and her lips part. A soft
sigh of longing oozed from her throat.

Her breasts felt ripe and heavy inside the cups of her bra.
The abrasiveness of his day-old beard would feel amazing on her sensitive
flesh, her nipples and throat, her inner thighs. His scent—woodsy and tinged
with a hint of male—made her want to bury her face in the open collar of his
shirt.

Bellamy pulled her right hand free of his and slid it around
the back of his neck, tunneling her fingers through the soft chestnut hair
curling over his collar. He now had two hands to use, and he did, brushing his
palm down her rib cage then back up her spine to ease under the fall of her
hair between her shoulder blades.

Funny how she hadn’t given much thought to the letter in her
back pocket since she’d met him.

Her immediate future was not what she’d dreamt it to be.
Busting her ass to make good grades through high school and college, the
struggle to get into vet school, all the personal sacrifices she’d made, the
impressive reference letters from the practice where she’d interned—none of it
carried the weight she’d hoped it would. Accolades didn’t automatically
translate into wish fulfillment. Another hard reality lesson learned in
adulthood.

Georgia was where she wanted to stay, even though most of
her family had been bitten by the travel bug. So she’d file her frustrations
away, along with that letter from Roger Clay, and suck it up. Get some
in-the-field experience and revisit the job search later. Running her uncle’s
practice would be nothing if not grassroots. Not to mention the fact that he
didn’t even employ a secretary. Bellamy would be doing everything from
scheduling appointments to paying the bills. On the plus side, he didn’t have
an actual office anymore, so she wouldn’t have that tedious aspect to maintain.

Eli tangled his fingers in her hair and gave a painless tug,
forcing her to look up at him. Reminding her that she was in the arms of the
most attractive man she’d ever met. His sexy smile had disappeared. “I lost
you, didn’t I? You went back to whatever sent you after that bottle in the
first place.”

The honest concern beneath his words prompted her to say,
“I’m sorry, Eli.”

They stopped moving, but his hold on her didn’t lessen the
slightest bit. If anything, he might’ve held her just a little tighter. “No
need to apologize, sugar. I’m willing to listen if you need to talk, though.”

The offer to unload was tempting, but not nearly enough to
overtake desire. Bellamy moved her hand to his jaw, brushed her thumb across
his full lower lip, wondering how it would taste. “I don’t want to talk
anymore.”

“Okay. But I need you to tell me one thing first.”

She knew without him having to ask the question. And she
should’ve made something else up, something normal and indistinct, a pseudonym
to hide behind. But she didn’t.

“It’s Bellamy.”

She watched his lips move as he repeated the word on a whisper,
then he lowered his mouth to hers and she went to a place where disappointment
and broken dreams were not welcome.

* * * * *

The blare of a car horn outside the motel room window made
Bellamy jerk upright in bed. Clutching the sheet to her chest, heart racing,
she shoved her tangled hair out of her face and took stock of her surroundings
while her heartbeat slowed.

She was naked beneath the covers. Her discarded clothing lay
strewn across the carpeted floor, three empty condom wrappers on the nightstand—and
next to her, the bed was unoccupied. Had it not been for the foil packets, the
lingering scent of sex on the sheets and the tenderness between her thighs, she
would’ve thought she’d dreamt the whole damn thing.

Not a trace of Eli remained anywhere to be found.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. The skin between her
breasts was pink with beard abrasion. Between her legs too, and there was a
small bruised spot high on the inside of her left thigh where Eli had marked
her. Remembering the things he’d done to her with his mouth, tongue,
teeth—Christ, everything—made her whole body flush with renewed heat.

A strange new brand of disappointment echoed through her as
she glanced over at the neighboring pillow, running her hand across the
indention left behind. Their parting was inevitable, sure, but she hadn’t
thought it would go down quite this way, without so much as a few pleasant
parting words, maybe a goodbye kiss. Had she been that awful in the sack? Was
he so desperate to escape he’d snuck out while she’d slept?

And who carries
three
goddamn condoms around with
them? One is prepared and responsible, but three? That’s not just prepared,
that’s armed and dangerous.

Shame reared its head, swift and savage and ugly. Bellamy
mentally beat the uncomfortable emotion back down into submission. As a
fully-grown adult, ten years removed from her hymen, she was old enough to make
sexual choices, even if they were incredibly stupid ones.

Scrambling out of bed, she raced around the room,
redressing, throwing clothing and toiletries inside her suitcase. Getting out
of that motel room as soon as possible suddenly became imperative to the
welfare of her pride.

She should’ve stuck with the tequila.

Three weeks later.

Eli Carter plowed a hand through his hair and let go a
steady stream of every curse he had in his vast arsenal, ending with an
exasperated and wholly unsatisfying, “Fucking hell.”

It was followed by a low bellow of misery from the Hereford
cow lying on the ground in front of him. She was in labor, and had been for
several hours. Problem was, nothing was happening. By this point, it should be,
and they were losing decent light as the sun began its slow slide behind the
tree line. At least they’d managed to get her inside a corral near the new
wooden barn they’d built to house feed, hay, equipment and supplies. The
barrier kept the other animals out of their way, most importantly the
two-thousand-pound bull roaming the pasture.

His youngest brother Sage said, “I think she’s agreein’ with
you.”

Then his brother Fritz stated the obvious. “None of us have
ever pulled a calf before. I don’t mind sayin’ I’m not comfortable doing it
alone the first time.”

“Think dad knows how?” Sage asked.

“Nope,” Fritz said. “He’ll tell us quick like that he’s a
farmer, not a cattleman.”

“And then remind us again we’re on our own in this
undertaking. Guess that leaves no choice but to call Doc Haile,” Eli said, then
grimaced in sympathy as another contraction hit the pregnant cow. Her uterine
muscles tightened and rolled, pushing fluid out, but still no sign of the calf.

This was your idea, dumbass. You coaxed your brothers
into this lofty endeavor. It’s your responsibility, now deal with the ugly
downsides.

Eli had wanted to find something he could call his own,
something he was genuinely good at doing. Something that brought him
satisfaction outside of a cornrow or a hay field.

Fritz was the farm king. Give him a patch of dirt and a few
seeds, and he could make anything grow and thrive. Ask him the best time to
plant this or that and he’d give you the answer without batting an eye, just
like their father. Sage was great with numbers and keeping the farm’s
bookkeeping straight and tight, but he could also sketch ideas out on paper.
Tell him you wanted to build a barn and in a few days, Sage would have a
detailed, scaled drawing ready that rivaled a college-educated architect’s
work, complete with a lumber list and cost down to the penny.

But Eli? Nothing. He could drive any piece of farm equipment
ever made and had a reputation for being decent in the sack. Neither one of
those was something to be particularly proud of at the end of the day. The sex
might leave him smiling for a few hours, satisfied, but content and worthy? No.

And ever since he’d come back to an empty motel room and no
sign of Bellamy a few weeks back, he’d been feeling more frustrated and
confused than ever when it came to what he wanted from the opposite sex. She’d
affected him like no woman had before, left him wanting more of everything from
her, which was a foreign concept to Eli. She was bright, funny and quick with a
comeback, not to mention so beautiful and sexy she’d stolen his ability to
think from the moment he’d first spotted her at the rodeo.

When the cow huffed her discomfort again, he abandoned his
inner grumbling and snatched his cell from the clip on his belt.

“You got Doc Haile’s number with you?” Fritz asked.

“I programmed it into my phone several weeks ago. Must’ve
been a subconscious omen of what was to come.”

“Sad fact is, this won’t be the last one,” Sage said. “Might
as well learn how for the next time.”

Eli thumbed through his contacts until he found Doc Haile’s
name and number. A moment of panic hit him while he waited for the call to
connect. What if the doc didn’t answer or was away on another work call? What
then? Losing his first calf, and possibly the mother too, would leave a bad
taste in his mouth. He didn’t need another reason to second-guess his decision
to raise beef cattle.

“Haile Vet Practice,” said a female voice on the other end
of the line.

He hadn’t expected a woman to answer. With Doc Haile’s
advancing age, maybe he finally decided to hire extra help.

“This is Eli Carter. I have a cow in labor and she’s not
progressing. I’m…not sure how to go about pulling the calf. Is Doc Haile
available?”

There was a brief pause, then “You’re talking to her.”

At the snappy comeback, a memory ricocheted around in Eli’s
brain. There was something familiar about the husky undertones in her voice…

“Do that again, Eli.”

His hand tightened around the phone. “Bellamy?”

Her muffled sigh more or less confirmed his suspicion before
she started firing questions at him like blasts from a shotgun. “How long has
she been in labor?”

Eli cleared his throat. “Since mid-afternoon.”

“Has she expelled the water bag yet?”

“Yes.”

“How long ago?”

“Half an hour, maybe a bit longer.”

“Has the calf presented itself at all?”

“No.”

“Do you have her penned up somewhere safe, away from the
rest of the herd and well lit?”

“She’s inside a corral. There are lights on the outside of
the barn, but we have moveable spotlights available too.”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

Before she could hang up, Eli said, “Don’t you need
directions?”

“I know where it is.”

How?
was on the tip of his tongue, but the tension
was thick enough between them as it was, even through the phone. No sense
ramping it up another notch when he was in dire need of her expertise. The last
thing he wanted to do was poke at her to the point of aggravation.

“Thanks, Bellamy.”

She hung up without another word.

Eli stuffed his phone back in his pocket, ignoring his
brothers’ curious stares, and walked toward the outer gate to wait for her.
Standing there with his forearms draped across the cold metal, the full
implications of their conversation sunk in.

Bellamy was in Serenity, working for Doc Haile.

No, she was the new and much improved Doc Haile. Talk about
your blind luck. And if she could be at the barn in ten minutes, she was fairly
close.

A shitload of questions rattled around in his skull, but of
course, his wounded ego was the first to raise its hand. Why had she cut and
run that morning? He’d left a note on the dresser saying he was going out for
their breakfast and he’d be right back. Best he could recall, he didn’t do or
say anything to give her the impression that he didn’t want more than just one
night. Or that he regretted what they’d done. Regret never entered his mind,
only profound disappointment at discovering an empty motel room.

At least he knew what she was doing behind the chutes at the
rodeo—working.
Huh.
He’d never met a female large-animal vet before. But
what had set her stomping off across that motel parking lot in search of a
stiff drink? A rough day? A bad break-up? Had he been the rebound guy,
available and eager to please? Wouldn’t be the first time he’d been a stand-in
for someone else. Normally the notion didn’t bother him. In fact, he sort of
preferred it. Easier to detach from those types of situations, walk away without
a commitment for more. A quick tumble and he was out the door, everyone’s
satisfied and nobody got hurt.

The thought of being a substitute for some other dude in
Bellamy’s life made him uncomfortable. So did the idea of someone hurting her.
Angry even.

Bright headlights cut through a dense, low-hanging fog
rolling in across the pasture. The dampness in the air made the temperature
feel cooler than it actually was, which they would more than likely appreciate
once they started working up a sweat in a few minutes.

Eli unhooked the chain holding the gate closed and walked it
backward so she could pull through, closing it behind her. She parked close to
a narrow opening he’d left in the corral’s barrier of rolled steel panels and
climbed out of her truck, a battered silver crew-cab four-wheel drive with
several toolboxes mounted on the body and contact information printed across
the doors and tailgate.

Seeing her again, even in the fading light, made his
heartbeat quicken and his hands clench. Tonight she was dressed for business in
faded jeans, brown work boots and a gray Henley, the sleeves shoved up to her
elbows. The look suited her—no nonsense, determined and not afraid to get
dirty. Prepared for it.

Her hair was lifted off her slender neck in a high ponytail.
He could still remember how those strands of black silk felt sliding between
his fingers, tickling his stomach, catching in the bristle on his jaw. The way
she shuddered and sighed when he kissed her neck. Her eyes were the deep, rich
green of a magnolia leaf in spring, expressive and faithless to their owner
when she was turned-on, lying about her name or worrying over something.

And that body…

He hated to admit it, but he had a type when it came to
women. He usually liked them curvy, bold and willing. Bellamy was reed-thin and
toned, with soft golden skin. She possessed curves, but they were subtle and
hidden beneath simple clothing. Her small breasts fit perfectly in the cup of
his hands and they were extra sensitive to touch, even breath. When he’d kissed
a slow path from hipbone to hipbone, her stomach muscles had quivered beneath
his lips.

“Don’t stop.”

That night in Perry she’d been somewhat bold, but he could
tell it wasn’t in her true nature to be overly flirty and daring. And although
she’d been willing, he’d sensed her hesitancy, like she was trying hard not to
think about what she was doing. Or making internal peace with what they were
about to do—sleep together after knowing each other for only a few hours, a
practice that came second nature to Eli.

He’d been an escape for Bellamy Haile, a respite from
something plaguing her mind. He intended to find out what it was. With any
luck, it would land him back in her bed again too. For right now though, he had
to set all that curiosity and lust aside and focus on learning how to save the
calf and its mother via Bellamy’s knowledge of veterinary medicine.

He watched her select items from various compartments on the
truck, dropping them into a clean plastic bucket at her feet. When it appeared
she was satisfied with what she’d chosen, he grabbed the handle before she
could. Her even gaze skimmed him from chest to face, then she turned and he
followed her into the corral, setting the bucket down near the struggling cow’s
rump.

While he’d been out at the gate waiting, Fritz and Sage had
been busy. Artificial light spilled across the corral and there was a bucket of
clean water nearby in case Bellamy needed it. A halter and rope was attached to
the cow’s head and tied off to the closest fence post.

“Bellamy, these are my brothers, Sage and Fritz.”

They shook hands. “It’s nice to meet you both,” she said,
then turned her attention to the furry mother. She passed a hand across the
animal’s broad hindquarter, murmuring softly, introducing herself there also,
it seemed.

“Is this her first calf?”

“Yeah, and ours too,” Eli said. “When we bought them they
were already bred, but the record books are immaculate.”

“That’s good. First timers can be tricky. Calving tends to
take longer, however they generally give birth to smaller calves. The larger
the cow grows, the bigger her calves will be. Males can run bigger than
females, and that can cause difficult births too. Then there are sire issues.
Some bulls just throw big calves. If you see this continuing to be a problem
into next year, you might want to consider getting a different bull.”

Eli, Sage and Fritz nodded in understanding, hands braced on
their hips, ready to do as she bid. Despite having read copious amounts of
material about raising cattle, Eli appreciated all the practical input he could
get. Hands-on was a much better learning tool than any book or article on the
internet.

The entire time Bellamy talked, she’d been assembling her
tools on a small plastic tarp.

“I’m going to talk as I go and y’all are going to help.
Experience is the best way for you to learn, and if you have questions, ask
them.” She handed each of them a pair of long plastic gloves. While they tugged
them up to their biceps, she did the same, then added a pair of fitted latex
gloves over hers. “The ideal way to do this is with the dam in a head chute so
you can control her, but she seems fairly calm and exhausted, so I think we’ll
be okay with the rope and halter. If there’s ever any doubt, put her in a chute
so you can restrict her movement in case she gets spooked or agitated. Keep the
noise levels down to a minimum. The less agitated she is, the better the birth
will go. Timing is key here as well. If she’s expelled the water sac, the calf
needs to be delivered soon after, but an hour is the benchmark. Longer than
that and you risk losing it.”

The cow let out a low bellow and Bellamy patted her side. “I
know it hurts, little momma.” She turned her attention back to them. “And
that’s another thing—she feels pain just like we do. Be very gentle and careful
in everything you do to her.”

Bellamy dropped to her knees behind the cow. “First thing we
need to do is wash and disinfect her entire hind end. Nothing gets squirted
inside of her, only the outside areas. It’s important that
everything
—you,
her, your tools—are thoroughly disinfected. You don’t want to introduce any
bacteria inside the birth canal.” She held up a bottle of disinfectant so they
could read the brand name. “Most farm stores carry calving supplies. If you
can’t find what you need, ask me and I’ll order it for you.”

Eli and his brothers hung on every word, catalogued every
action.

Once she had the cow’s rump cleaned, she picked up another
bottle, wrestling with a grin. The grin won. “Lube is imperative. Use as much
as you think you need then add more. It can only help the process along.
Petroleum jelly will work in a pinch, but never use soap.”