Their dad had held them for what seemed like forever before several men trickled outside, then he took them into the empty restroom and helped both of the girls scrub all the stickiness from their hands and faces.
Dahlia had always assumed that her dad was so good with kids because he’d already had three of them by the time she and Finn came along. But the more she watched Connor’s natural and easy interaction with Amelia, she had to wonder how a man with no kids, who’d only known her daughter for almost two months, could act so...well...fatherly toward her.
No. Amelia already had a father. Micah would’ve happily taken the messy half-eaten corn dog from their child and then helped her wash her hands. But Micah wasn’t here, which made Amelia more susceptible to wanting to fill that void. It was one thing for Dahlia to get physically close to Connor. It was another to let her daughter develop an emotional attachment to him.
“Are you ready to go pick out Connor’s sheep now, Mommy?”
Nope, Dahlia wanted to shake her head frantically. She wasn’t ready to pick out a sheep and she certainly wasn’t ready to encourage any sort of bond between him and her daughter, even a seemingly innocent bond over farm animals. But how did Dahlia explain her adult concerns to a small child?
She couldn’t.
So Dahlia did what she always did, she distracted. “How about we get some kettle corn instead?”
And Amelia did what she always did. “How about we do both?”
“I think I saw a concession stand by the bidder registration table.” Connor wiggled his eyebrows at Dahlia and her pulse skipped a beat when he lowered his mouth next to her ear again. “Not only did your daughter just call your bluff, she followed it up with some double or nothing.”
The corners of Dahlia’s lips couldn’t resist smirking upward. “Oh, we’ll see whose bluff gets called when she talks you into buying that ram with anger-management issues.”
By the time the three of them made their way to the auction stage with a large bag of popcorn, three lemonades and two candy apples, the surrounding wooden bleachers were completely filled with potential buyers and spectators. In fact, it was so crowded that they had to make their way up the stands to the very back row, and even then Amelia had to sit on Connor’s lap because there was only enough space for the two adults.
Luckily, she hadn’t recognized anyone from Teton Ridge yet. Not that it should matter.
Dahlia’s hip was wedged against Connor’s and it took an act of supreme concentration to keep the rest of her thigh and her knee from touching his. Especially since there was barely any space on the narrow foot riser below after they set down their cups of icy lemonade. With the way her daughter was leaning forward excitedly, it would only be so long before the adults’ entire bodies were pivoted together to keep Amelia’s limbs from bumping into the people around them.
“Oooh, I like that one, Connor.” Amelia tried to raise the bidding paddle, but Connor deftly switched it to his other hand, and hid it between his upper leg and Dahlia’s. She shivered at the feel of his wrist grazing against her jeans.
If he was equally fazed by the contact, he didn’t show it. Instead, he casually explained to her squirming daughter, “That’s a pig. We’re only interested in the sheep, remember?”
Five minutes later, Amelia tried again. “What about a baby pig? Like a really, really small one?”
“The small ones usually grow up to be big ones. Plus, horses and pigs don’t always get along. Private Peppercorn already gets annoyed with Goatee’s new obsession with his carrot treats. We don’t want to have him fighting with a pig, too.”
This prompted a discussion about whether or not the sheep would get along and where everyone would sleep in the barn. Her chatter would only stop each time a new animal came on stage, with Amelia avidly watching the bidding until the auctioneer yelled, “Sold!” Then she’d launch a different discussion.
Each time her daughter asked a new question—which had to be every thirty seconds—Amelia’s tiny body would shift, which would cause Connor to bump into Dahlia, which would set off another alarm of sensations throughout her body. After a while, it seemed pointless to hold herself so rigid to avoid making contact with the man. Maybe if she relaxed and let the laws of physics run its course, her body would stop having such an intense reaction to his.
After the pigs paraded through, the goats came next and then the alpacas had their turn on the stage. By the time they got to the cows, Dahlia noticed that Amelia’s questions were coming with less frequency and her posture was drooping. When the auctioneer finally announced the first lamb, her daughter was sound asleep, a fistful of buttery popcorn still clutched in her tiny hand and her sticky candy apple–smeared face pressed into the curve between Connor’s shoulder and neck.
Dahlia’s lungs felt like balloons inflating with way too much helium. It was too late to keep emotions out of it. The damage was done. She didn’t think there could possibly be any sweeter sight in the world than her daughter happily exhausted and nestled comfortably in Connor Remington’s strong arms.
He must’ve known the exact minute her carefully built walls began to crack because he caught Dahlia’s gaze and whispered, “Should I wake her?”
She shook her head. “No, let her sleep. Unless she’s too heavy for you.”
Connor smiled. “Not at all. Although, it might help my balance to readjust just a little.” His biceps, which up until now had been wedged against hers, eased behind her lower back. “There. That’s better.”
She gave a pointed look to where his hand casually rested on her opposite hip, then suppressed her own smile. “That was a pretty smooth maneuver.”
Pressed against his side like this, she could feel his chest rumble as he chuckled lightly. “Thanks. I’ve been waiting to do that since they brought out the first goat.”
“Only since then?” Dahlia asked, unused to hearing the flirtatious tone in her own voice.
“Okay, so maybe since that first time you and Amelia stopped at my ranch with doughnuts.” That magical thumb of his traced a circle on her hip and it felt as though the denim fabric separating their skin would catch on fire. “I mean, I thought about it way before that., But I hadn’t really hoped I might have a shot at it until that day.”
She lifted her chin, bringing their faces closer together. “And is it everything you’d been hoping for?”
“Yes,” he said, then swallowed. “And no. Hold that thought.”
The couple who’d been sitting beside them had left and since the crowd had lessened as more and more animals were purchased, she watched him carefully ease Amelia’s sleeping form along the bench, the kid-sized puffy blue jacket a pillow under her head and the backrest of the bleachers preventing her from rolling off.
When he turned back to Dahlia, she knew what was coming next. Anticipation rippled through her and she tilted her head up right as he lowered his.
“This is what I was really hoping for.”
As soon as he kissed her, there was no denying that was the exact thing she’d been waiting for, as well. And oh, man, her expectations were definitely exceeded. Connor’s mouth was firm and agile and tasted like sweet lemonade. When his tongue traced along her lower lip, she eagerly opened up to quench a thirst she hadn’t known she had.
Her arms wrapped around his neck to keep her from completely falling into him as her body ached to get closer to his. His fingers splayed along her rib cage, holding her in place as his mouth thoroughly explored hers. When she tilted her head to allow him a deeper angle, he tightened his grip on her waist and yanked her against to him.
They were like two love-starved teenagers making out on the bleachers for all the world to see and Dahlia couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so reckless. So alive. So intoxicated. She couldn’t be bothered to think that someone from their town might’ve been there to see them. All she could think a
bout was how right all of this felt.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the auctioneer’s voice rang out on the speakers above them. “This is the last animal of the night.”
Connor pulled away and blinked several times before realizing the stands around them were empty. “Oh, no. I missed the sheep I’d wanted to bid on.”
“Wait. You really were going to buy a sheep?”
“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I?”
She resisted the urge to tap her swollen lips, which still felt as though they were on fire. “I thought you were just trying to make Amelia happy.”
“Well, I was. But then I kinda talked myself into it along the way.”
“So maybe you could go to one of the livestock auctions in Riverton,” she suggested. “They have them once a month.”
“That won’t work. When Amelia wakes up, she’ll ask why we didn’t get one here. And do you want me to answer honestly and say it was because I couldn’t keep my hands or my mouth off her hot mom?”
His tongue was skilled in more ways than one. Her heart was already skipping beats from his kisses. Now it threatened to shut down completely at his smooth words. Nobody had ever called her a hot mom, at least not to her face. And they certainly had never been equally as passionate about their commitments to her daughter.
Connor didn’t release her hip as he leaned forward and squinted at the stage. “Now which one is left?”
Chapter Seven
“So how’d you end up with this feathered friend?” Dr. Roman asked when she made a house call on Monday to check on Peppercorn after his busy week at the Twin Kings. “I thought you were only setting up for horses out here.”
Connor was still kicking himself over that acquisition. He hadn’t been in the market for a sheep, let alone a damn turkey. In fact, the only reason he’d gone to the Spring Fling Festival was because Finn King said it would be a great opportunity to network with other ranchers from western Wyoming and eastern Idaho who’d traveled there every year for the event. She’d been right, although he now had a feeling that she’d also had ulterior motives.
Connor had met several other horse breeders at the rodeo exhibit and was about to drive back to the ranch when he caught sight of Amelia and Dahlia getting off the Tilt-a-Whirl. Sure, he’d run into them around the town of Teton Ridge before so running into them there wasn’t shocking in and of itself. What had made his own heart tilt and whirl, though, was the realization that seeing them away from town had—for the first time in his life—made him feel as if he was finally home. As if he was finally ready to put down even more roots and invest himself into the ranch both physically and emotionally.
Buying a sheep seemed like a good way to further develop his holdings here at the Rocking D while simultaneously making Amelia happy. But unlike his adoption of Goatee, he couldn’t totally blame the King-Deacon women for suckering him into this unexpected and very unnecessary acquisition.
He took off his hat and scratched his head before answering the vet. “I picked him up at the livestock auction at the Spring Fling Festival in Fling Rock.”
“I love that festival. We take our grandkids every year.” The vet jerked a thumb toward the chicken coop, which Connor had spent the rest of the weekend repairing. “And every year we see the same Bourbon Red that never gets a single bid. I think he’s getting bigger with age.”
Great. Now Connor was the sucker who’d brought home a turkey nobody else wanted. Although it hadn’t taken him long to figure out why the auctioneer had been so surprised to see his paddle in the air.
“Not only does the thing poop all over the place, he squawks and pecks at any human or animal that comes within a five-foot radius.” Connor held up his bandaged left hand. “He did this when I was trying to let him out of his transportation cage.”
Yet, the look on Amelia’s face when she found out that Connor had rescued one of her favorite animals made the injury and the headache from the bird’s nightly serenade of angry gobbles worth it.
And that amazing kiss he’d shared with Dahlia on the bleachers had been worth at least three more turkeys just like this one.
“How’s his diet?” the vet asked.
“He eats anything he can get his beak on. Goatee was sniffing around a little too close to the chicken wire yesterday afternoon and now I can’t find the little metal name tag that used to hang on his collar.”
“Uh-oh. That might explain why he’s so cranky.”
“No, he was cranky well before he got here.”
“Mind if I give him a sedative and try to do a quick examination?” the vet asked, but she was already pulling on a pair of latex gloves.
Connor couldn’t help but wonder if there’d be an extra charge for that since this would be the second animal on his ranch she’d be seeing today. He’d already dropped a hundred bucks on the turkey and another three hundred on feed and fencing supplies to repair the coop when it became apparent that Peppercorn would kick out his stall door if he had to share the barn with the hot-tempered turkey on the opposite side of the stables.
Connor said a silent prayer of thanks that Peppercorn had several more live covers booked for this week and he was starting to see a return on his investment. Then he told Dr. Roman, “Knock yourself out. But I’ve got a load of hay arriving right now so I hope you brought some tranquilizer darts.”
“I always come locked and loaded,” she replied as she walked to the small mobile clinic trailer she towed behind her SUV.
The delivery truck from the feed store pulled up beside them and when the young driver climbed out, Dr. Roman asked, “No practice today, Keyshawn?”
“Nope. We didn’t even make the playoffs this year. So my dad is having me do deliveries after school until baseball starts up next week.”
Keyshawn Fredrickson was tall and muscular and, according to his dad Freddie, had recently gotten a full academic scholarship to Howard University. He’d also been one of the teenagers who’d come over with Luis Ochoa, Tomas’s son, to help repair the fence. In addition to getting a sturdy enclosure for his pasture, Connor also got to hear about the drama surrounding the Teton Ridge High School basketball coach being fired during the back half of the season.
Connor might’ve only been in town six weeks, but he already knew all the local gossip. Unless it had to do with the Kings. Nobody had bothered to fill him in on any of that. He picked up a pair of hay hooks to help Keyshawn unload the bales of alfalfa.
“Whoa, is that the mean old turkey from Spring Fling?” The teenager paused with only one hook under the bale wire as he gaped in surprise at the vet entering the chicken coop.
Connor felt a resigned groan vibrate against the back of his throat before admitting, “That’s the one. I’m guessing you’re familiar with him, too.”
“I won my girlfriend a goldfish at the Sink-A-Hoop game and as we’re walking through the livestock arena, that crazy dude poked his wrinkly bald head between the slats and ate my girlfriend’s goldfish. Tore right through the plastic bag and swallowed the thing whole. Then he almost ripped my thumb off when I tried to wrestle the bag away from him.”
Connor again held up his bandaged hand. “Tell me about it.”
The squawking started immediately and was followed by intense wing flapping. Connor was about to sprint over to the coop when he saw the flash of a syringe in the vet’s hand and then the large bird flopped over in a heap of reddish brown feathers.
“He’s a bit heavier than I was expecting,” the vet called over to them. “If one of you can help me get him into the trailer, I have an ultrasound machine that might give me a better idea of what’s going on.”
“Man, Doc Roman is a badass,” Keyshawn said after Connor helped her load the turkey onto the stainless-steel table in her tricked-out mobile clinic. “There’s no way you could pay me to go into an enclosed space with that thing. Even if it’s passed out cold.�
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“Who’s passed out cold?” a little voice said and Goatee ran off the porch with an excited yip.
Connor had been so focused on getting the turkey into the mobile clinic without accidentally waking it that he hadn’t heard Dahlia’s truck pull into the drive.
“This crazy bird Mr. Remington found at the Spring Fling.” Keyshawn answered.
“Oh, you mean Gobster?” Amelia smiled to reveal a new missing tooth. “Connor won him ’cause he was the highest bidder.”
“Wait, you actually paid money for that thing?” Keyshawn’s head whipped around to Connor, who would’ve felt suitably embarrassed if he wasn’t feeling a rush of excitement at seeing Dahlia walking toward them. “And what kind of name is Gobster, anyway?”
“It’s short for Gobble Monster,” Amelia said. “I wanted to name him General Gobble ’cause Connor’s horse has a soldier name, too. But Connor said he definitely didn’t earn that rank. Look, we got him a silver ID tag to match Goatee’s, but we haven’t found a collar small enough for him.”
Connor winced. He was not looking forward to the moment when Amelia noticed that Goatee’s ID tag was now missing. As the girl continued talking to Keyshawn while he unloaded the hay, Connor used the opportunity to talk to Dahlia alone.
“Hey,” he said. Because they weren’t truly alone.
“Hi. Sorry for dropping in on you again like this, but I still don’t have your number. Not that you need to give it to me. I mean, I know we, uh, you know, on Saturday night. But I don’t want you thinking that I’m thinking that totally changes things between us or that I’m expecting you to give it to me. It’s just that if I had it, I could’ve warned you that Amelia was insisting we stop by on our way to her riding lesson and check on the turkey.”
Making Room for the Rancher Page 10