I didn’t realize how long that scroll truly was. “And this is stuff I’ve never considered. Does that count as double?”
He grins at me. “I don’t see why not. You’re the one responsible for keeping track.”
“And you’re the one playing along.”
That smile grows into something breathtaking. “I’m really glad we’re doing this.”
“So am I, farmer.” My mouth curls to match his expression. After getting lost in his blue eyes for an entire minute, I force myself to focus on a patch of rust eroding the structure’s siding. “Whose place is this?”
He follows my line of sight, tugging at the John Deere hat parked on his head. “A family friend’s.”
“And they’re okay with you letting a complete novice, with no clue what she’s doing, milk their cow?”
“Yep.”
I wait for him to elaborate. After a brief pause, he still says nothing. “Um, okay.”
“Now for the moment of truth.” He drums a beat on his thighs. “Are you ready?”
With another glance out the window, I steel my resolve. My mama didn’t raise a wimp—aside from scary shit and heights, of course. “I’ve totally got this in the bag.”
“Or pail,” he corrects, unbuckling his seatbelt.
“How about a jug?”
Reeve leans over into my space, kissing me with a noisy plop. “Your stalling tactics are remarkable.”
I press my mouth harder against his. “Maybe I just want you closer.”
He nips my bottom lip. “You’re not getting out of this, but I commend your efforts.”
“All right,” I pull away. “I’m prepared.”
With that, I pop open the door and step out onto the muddy ground. The foul stench of what I assume is piles of manure assaults my nostrils. I trap a gag behind sealed lips, choking down a thick swallow. It reminds me of the most potent fertilizer on steroids.
I wave at the invisible plume of green that’s no doubt wafting in front of my face. “Oh, that’s not pleasant.”
Reeve strolls beside me as if we’re in a garden full of fragrant lilacs. Does he have a weak sense of smell? “You’ll get used to it.”
My nose wrinkles of its own accord. “I highly doubt that.”
He chuckles, smooth and rich. “You might not agree, but I’m really enjoying this.”
“My torment?”
He caresses my cheek with his knuckle. “Widening your horizons. Initiating you into the country life. Showing you the roads less traveled. Thank you for giving me the honor.”
Well, shit. When he puts it that way, the odor doesn’t seem so horrific. Neither does letting him drag me all over Iowa to try new things. I lean into his touch with a sigh.
Reeve laces his fingers through mine and leads me inside the domed building. The interior is dim with intermittent bare bulbs hanging from thick beams. A soft glow shines down on us, illuminating the large space. It’s cleaner than I would’ve assumed, the floor still wet from a fresh washing. A solo cow stands tied to a pole, seemingly content to just wait without a stitch of company. I assumed they were herd animals. Goes to show how much I know.
“Who’s this lovely lady?” I approach with caution, weighing my every step.
He has no such reservations as he strokes a palm along the length of her spine. “Her name is Sprout. She’s one of their best producers.”
“What breed is she?”
“Dairy. All of the heifers at Thayer are.”
I nod as if that information has any impact on my understanding. To me, Sprout is black and white. Upon further inspection, I see that her snout is pink. Fluffy tufts protrude from her ears, and she’s big enough to squash me like a bug.
Reeve fetches an armful of supplies from a nearby storage room. He sets a metal bucket underneath Sprout, aligning a small stool off to the side. Maybe I wasn’t so far off from my earlier assumption.
“Do you do this often?”
He straightens, tucking a hand in his back pocket. “I used to work here over the summers in high school. Milking beats mucking the paddocks.”
I choke down bile just recalling that disgusting scent. Thankfully, the nauseating putridness appears to be trapped outside. “Don’t they have fancy machines for this?”
“Yes, and they’re very efficient. But nothing can replace the old-fashioned way.”
Taking a tiny risk, I shuffle forward and steal a peek at Sprout’s equipment. “Oh, the poor girl. Her udder is really swollen.”
Reeve grunts and crosses his arms. “She’s about to burst. You kept her waiting.”
“Me?” I slap a palm to my chest.
“With all that incessant flirting at your house.” He shoots me a wink.
I purse my lips. “And what do you call this?”
“Innocent conversation,” he drawls.
“Semantics,” I return.
“Whatever makes you feel better. Speaking of, let’s give this girl some relief. I’ll demonstrate.”
He crouches on the ground, getting all up in Sprout’s business. Each hand grabs a teat, yanking harder than I would ever dare. Milk immediately squirts out and sloshes against the metal pail. He continues at a steady pace until a thin layer of frothy white collects in the bottom.
“See?” Reeve nods at the fruits of his labor and pats Sprout’s rump. “It’s as easy as that.”
I make no move to grab the bull by the horns, so to speak. “Maybe you should just finish the job.”
“No way. Give it a try. Sprout is used to rookie hands. She’s practically foolproof.” He motions me toward the empty seat.
I blow out a heavy breath, preparing an internal pep talk. This is a daily chore for many. It looks simple enough. I can do this. Forcing myself to rock climb and watch Texas Chainsaw Massacre was far worse, yet I managed to do those. Barely, but no one is keeping score.
With a slight wobble in my knees, I plop onto the stool. The wooden legs tremble and feel like toothpicks attempting to support my weight. It probably doesn’t help that my entire body is trembling. With another deep exhale, I prepare to take position and lean in. Just as my fingers brush the coarse hair of her belly, Sprout kicks out with ridiculous precision.
I scramble backward,
