Page 61 of Well Aware

Holly was the second veterinarian at Boone’s practice in town. She’d graduated not too long ago, according to Beau, and was really good at her job.

I got to see that firsthand as she banded all but one male goat over the next thirty minutes.

“So,” I said as I watched the poor goat’s balls in front of me. “What happens next? I mean, logically, I know what will happen. But seeing and knowing are two different things…”

“They’ll lose blood flow. Probably fall off in about four to eight weeks,” she answered.

“Interesting,” I said as I eyed the bands. “Let me see one of those.”

She handed me a few bands.

I held out my hand for the pliers next when the bands didn’t stretch at all.

She handed those over next.

“Do you think this would fit around a man’s…” I trailed off, letting her fill in the blank.

She nodded. “Oh, absolutely. Did you see the size of that goat’s balls? I should’ve done this weeks ago, to be honest. I almost waited too long. Another week and I would’ve been doing surgery on them all.”

Iris made her way through all the goats, looking but not touching.

She stopped in front of the smallest of the three. “Boer goats are generally the ones that are shown.”

“Yes,” Holly said. “Do you know why?”

“Because they’re the gold standard for meat production,” she answered.

“That’s right.” Holly smiled.

Just as Holly said that, her eyes caught on something over my shoulder.

When I turned, it was to find two men on horseback topping the hill, and several cows running in front of them.

“Whoa,” Iris breathed.

“Stay here,” I said when Holly exited the pen and started rushing toward the far-off pasture where the girls were at.

Iris climbed onto the fence so she could get a better look, and I stood next to her, my eyes taking in the show.

Beau and Denver looked like they did this every day.

Beau looked like he did this for a living.

He rode the horse—which was so freakin’ beautiful—like he was born to do it.

And the black baseball cap now turned around facing backward on his head?

I hadn’t realized that I had a thing for men who wore baseball caps but there I was, practically panting over him.

“Beau!” Iris called.

Beau didn’t hear, his mind preoccupied with trying to keep the cows from running every which way but the way he wanted them to go.

His muscled thighs controlled the horse under him expertly, and I couldn’t help but be in a sort of awe as the horse responded practically without him having to tell her what to do.

It was obvious that she was highly trained.

A rough wind tore through the area, whipping my hair this way and that as we continued to watch Beau and Denver get the cows into the pen.