Grumpy Cowboy: A Hot Single Dad, Enemies-to-Lovers Romance

by Max Monroe

  “Let’s go, you guys! You can do it!” she shouts and starts running from one side of the pasture to the other.

  Tiny’s eyes go wide, and he turns to lock his gaze with mine. “You didn’t tell her that all she had to do was open the fuckin’ gates and let ’em roam?”

  I shrug. “She didn’t give me a chance.”

  “Sure, she didn’t.” He rolls his eyes and chuckles. “You’re a real evil bastard, ya know that?”

  “What?” I retort. “She doesn’t want my advice, and it sure as shit ain’t my business to force it on her. I reckon she’s just one of those people who have to learn the hard way.”

  “So, just like you, then, huh? What’a they call ’em? Kin fed spirits or somethin’?”

  I roll my eyes, and Tiny laughs. He’s been around since I was a kid. He knows me just about as well as anyone. Sure, he may talk slow or get the wrong word occasionally, but he’s a keen observer and then some. If he weren’t, my dad never would have kept him on our staff this long.

  “And how long has she been out there like this?”

  “I don’t know. Twenty, thirty minutes, tops.”

  “Rhett,” Tiny says, and I groan.

  “I know. Two more minutes and I’ll put an end to the charade, I swear.” I shrug and take a swig from my water bottle, shifting the melted ice pack on my knee and smiling. “Come on. Tell me you’re not enjoyin’ this just a little.”

  Tiny looks from me out to the pasture where Leah is crow-hopping from one foot to the other, stretching her arms over her head with each jump. The horses are largely ignoring her, though one filly named Jasmine is completely enraptured. Ears perked and eyes wide, she can’t look away from the crazy lady with the sudden movements.

  “I’m not enjoyin’ this. Though, if I were, I’d probably be smart enough not to say so, just as a matter of respect for the good doc and all.”

  I snort. He’s loving this.

  Discarding the ice pack, I re-tighten my brace and press my weight into my hands to shove up to standing. Leah leans down with her hands on her knees and heaves a few deep breaths of exhaustion. A fine sheen of sweat makes her dark hair stick to her face, and I have to fight to keep my mouth from curving up into a smirk.

  “All right. It’s time to be movin’ on to the next task anyway.”

  “Which is what, exactly?” Tiny asks. “And also, why? We’ve got plenty of ranch hands ’round here to do all this work while you heal that damn leg, yet you just ain’t lettin’ them do it.”

  “There’s always somethin’ that needs done around here, Tiny, and you know my job is to oversee the action. Today’s action just so happens to be in Barn Six, over with the longhorns.”

  He shakes his head. “You must be one sick, sadistic son of a bitch.”

  I laugh. “Why?”

  “’Cause you know damn well how that doc’s gonna react to collection, and still, you’re gonna put yourself through the mayhem anyway.”

  “Hey, she’s the one who wanted to follow me around so she could see to my leg. It’s not my fault that the longhorns are part of today’s agenda.”

  “Yeah, right,” he retorts. “The longhorns don’t need’ta be on your damn agenda, and you fuckin’ know it.”

  “Actually, Ronald has somewhere to be,” I retort. “And if the good doctor doesn’t want to chase my leg around, she’s more than welcome to see herself out of today and go into town and shop or do some spa shit or whatever it is she likes to fucking do.”

  “So what, she’s tryin’ to make your leg better. What’s the big deal about that?”

  “It’s not about the leg,” I contest. “It’s about control for Tex, and you damn well know it. I’m on my ass puttin’ ice on my leg all day, and he makes sure everything gets done the way he likes it.”

  Tiny shrugs. “I don’t know. Looks to me like you’re standin’ a whole lot easier on that thing. Not wincin’ in pain or anything. It’s been so long since I’ve seen your forehead without all them fuckin’ wrinkles, I was startin’ to think you were older than me.”

  Tiny’s in his late fifties and looks it. He’s a good worker and in decent physical shape because of it, but with the hard life he’s lived, he’s not likely to win any beauty contests anytime soon.

  Maybe that’s why his words have more impact than I’m expecting them to.

  Surprised at myself, I look down at my leg and take stock. The pain has eased from a seven to a four, and it doesn’t feel quite like I’m dragging around a swollen club anymore either.

  “Hey,” Leah says from right behind me, startling me away from the kind of realization I probably wasn’t ready to have anyway. “I, um…”

  I turn around to face her and have to chew the flesh of my bottom lip to stop from laughing. She’s slick with sweat and red in the face, and all of her normally perfect looks are notably marred.

  Don’t get me wrong, she’s still fucking beautiful, but now, it’s looking a little less varnished.

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m sorry to interrupt. I just…how long exactly are they supposed to exercise? I’m doing my best out there, but they don’t seem particularly interested in burning calories. Most of them have just been eating grass the whole time, actually. Not that I don’t understand the draw of a good snack, but—”

  “Leah,” I cut in, interrupting her ramble.

  “Yeah?”

  “They’re good. All you had to do was turn ’em out. They’ll exercise themselves out there plenty.”

  “What? Turn them out?”

  “Open the gate and let them roam,” I clarify. “That whole show you just put on was noteworthy, darlin’, but what it wasn’t was necessary. The point of turnout time is so they stretch their legs themselves. If we’re gonna work ’em, we put ’em in an arena.”

  “Are you serious?” She glares. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  I shrug, smirking. “Probably because, way I remember it, you weren’t too interested in hearing my advice.”

  “That’s not advice. That’s essential information.”

  I tilt my head to the side and laugh. “Well, I guess you’ll know for next time.”

  “Next time?” she asks, her breath catching in her throat and creating a sound of desperation.

  I nearly laugh, but it’s hard to do when she’s looking this pitiful. Maybe later, when she’s had time to wipe the sweat-streaked mascara out of her eyes, I’ll enjoy it more.

  “Yeah, darlin’. Horses get fed twice a day. This group’s on a special diet, so we’ve gotta feed ’em in the stalls, and horses in the stalls means shit to clean. Just because you did it once doesn’t mean it’s done.”

  “Oh my God. Why? Why do you do this?”

  At that, I have to laugh.

  “It’s a way of life. And I’ve never been scared of work.”

  “I’m not scared to work either. It’s just…a lot.”

  “Ranch life is more than a pretty backdrop. It takes a hell of a lot to keep this place goin’, and I’m responsible for much of it. What do you think, I just like to suffer for the hell of it? I can’t sit around worrying about my leg ’cause there’s no time to sit around, period.”

  “You’re right,” she says with a resolute nod.

  “I am?” I ask, hesitant to trust such a speedy switch to agreement.

  “Absolutely. There are things to be done, and they’re not going to do themselves, and I get it. You can’t just sit around waiting for your stupid leg to heal to do them, right? They have to get done now.”

  “Exactly.”

  She nods again, and I let a smile crack the corner of my mouth. Finally, someone’s understanding around here.

  “You can’t sit around, and you can’t wait for it to heal,” she continues then, gabbing like I suppose women like to do—largely for no reason since the point’s already made. “You have to get out there and make sure that one, two, maybe three months from now, you don’t ever have to do this work again.”

&
nbsp; “What?”

  “Oh,” she says through a fake laugh that makes my smile disappear. “Well, yeah. I mean, that’s how it works. You beat your leg into the ground, abusing it so it doesn’t heal, and in two or three months, the damage is so irreparable that you’re permanently wheelchair-bound. Then you don’t have to worry about any of this anymore because it’s officially above your pay grade. Your job is to sit. All the time.”

  I grind my teeth as my jaw tightens. There’s just about nothing I hate more than being talked down to like I don’t understand that actions have consequences. I know that overworking my leg isn’t good for it, but I also know that I’m not like most patients of hers. I know my physical limits, and I’m designed to push them. But that doesn’t mean I’m a complete idiot.

  I know my stopping point.

  “I’m not stupid. I know my body and—”

  “I’m sure you do, Rhett,” she cuts me off. “I’m sure you know it just the same way I know horses. Clearly, I’m a professional, right? I don’t need your help, right?”

  “This is not the same damn thing as you doin’ jazzercise with my damn horses for the last half hour. I’m in my body, I know it.”

  She shrugs. “I’m on your ranch, Rhett. In fact, since I’ve been here for seven days now trying to track your stubborn ass down, you might even say I live here. I could tell an outsider that, and they might actually assume I know something. But sometimes, geography isn’t the whole story.”

  My eyes narrow, and she returns the gesture before continuing. “I’ve spent over a decade learning all about the limitations of your leg injury and the right ways to bring it back. How long have you been thinking about that leg, Rhett? If I had to guess, I’d say it started sometime around the day after it happened. I think that puts me in the lead.”

  “Fine.” I shake my head. “You want to make sure I don’t do shit you deem I shouldn’t? Well, then buckle up, sweetheart, because we’re already late for our next stop on the schedule. But if I were you, I’d make sure you wait around to get some advice on how to handle yourself. If you don’t with this task…you’re sure to regret it.”

  Leah

  “What…and I mean this in the nicest, most non-offensive way possible…but what in the ever-loving hell is going on here?”

  My eyes bounce like ping-pong balls, trying to focus on one of the many happenings in front of us, but it’s too much. I’m on sensory overload, and I don’t even know how to process what I’m seeing.

  I mean, that’s not true.

  I’m processing it fine. It’s the acceptance of reality and putting it into words that are giving me the biggest struggle.

  There’s a big boy cow, up on his hind legs, his giant horns stretched way out to each side of his head, and a man stands at his side with a tube of some sort in his hand. There’s another big cow or whatever in front of it, just sort of standing there while someone holds its head in a fenced-in area with a lead line.

  And it’s very apparent the big boy cow is thinking he’s getting some bow chicka wow wow action. Literally.

  The guy with the horns is in full-on hump mode, and I don’t really understand how or why. Obviously, I get why he’s in the mood to hump—he has a penis. But why he’s doing it into a large tube held within a man’s hand is a different question entirely.

  “Longhorn bull sperm collection.”

  Sperm collection? Oh, holy humping jackrabbits.

  I’m not ashamed to admit that I nearly have to pick my jaw up off the ground.

  “So…” I pause, squinting toward the insane scene that lays before me. “That guy is really holding some kind of sleeve on that bull’s—”

  “Penis,” Rhett finishes for me. “Yep.”

  “And he’s…he’s…”

  “Collecting sperm to sell.”

  “W-what kind of buyers are looking for sperm, exactly?” I ask, more than just a little shocked that this is even a thing. I mean, who would want cow sperm? And why would they want it?

  “All kinds,” Rhett answers like this is the most normal thing he’s seen all day. “We’ve got some of the finest longhorn bull stock in the country. Other people want their herds to be the same. Since it’d be hard for us to cart our bulls all over the States, breedin’ every cow under the sun, this is the way it’s done. We collect the sperm and ship it out to ’em, and they inseminate their females.”

  “Well. That’s just… Well, it’s great. Really ingenious. And that guy looks like he’s doing a really fine job of collecting it. Truly. A professional, which I’m sure you have to be in order to do something this sensitive…”

  I’m rambling at this point, but who could blame me? Witnessing sperm collection wasn’t exactly something that was on my to-do list when I came out here. Pretty sure this isn’t on most people’s to-do list. Like, ever.

  Rhett smirks, and I lick my lips nervously when realization hits me. Holy hell, he’s not expecting me to do this shit, is he?

  “Ronald is definitely a seasoned professional at collection, but he has somewhere else to be. Which is why we’re here. We’re takin’ over.”

  “We’re…we’re doing that?” I ask with an index finger pointed toward the cow that’s currently humping with a purpose.

  Rhett nods. “Or I am. Or you are. I guess that’s up to you, Doc. Since you know best with my leg and all. Wouldn’t wanna be pushin’ it and actin’ like I know more than I do, right? That was your point before, wasn’t it?”

  A humorless laugh jumps from my lungs. “Oh, wow. You must think you’re pretty clever, setting me up like this.”

  “I know you might be used to people planning their days around you, darlin’, but I can assure you, that’s not what I’ve done. This collection happens twice a week, every week, and we haven’t arranged anything special just for you.”

  My cheeks redden with embarrassment, and I swallow my thick saliva down. The truth is, I did let my head get away from me for a minute, and I was thinking they’d set this up for me.

  Which is both ludicrous and seriously self-centered, and being forced to confront it head on feels unexpected.

  But he’s right. And if I’m anything, it’s willing to admit when I’m at fault.

  “I’m sorry,” I apologize. “You’re right, and I don’t know why I suggested it. I know there’s a lot of stuff that goes on here that I have no idea about, and honestly, I wasn’t expecting to have to learn. I kind of thought we’d be doing more of your treatment, I don’t know, inside a house.”

  Surprisingly, for maybe the first time ever, he smiles at me. And holy hell, if it doesn’t transform his face into the kind of mug you have dreams about.

  Why is it that a little dab of carefree happiness makes everyone hotter?

  “Ain’t much of anything that happens inside a house around here.”

  I chuckle. “I’m starting to get that.”

  “So, what do you say? Am I steppin’ in for Ronald, or are you?”

  I glance back to Ronald and the bull as he shoves off his faux mate and lands back on the ground with his front hooves. He looks tremendously satisfied with himself, and honestly, why wouldn’t he be. As far as I know, Ronald just sent him into the orgasm stratosphere.

  “So…what exactly do I have to do? Jerk him off?”

  Rhett makes a noise in his throat—I’m pretty sure it’s the sound of him choking—and looks straight at me. “I’m sorry, what?”

  “How much wrist action?” I expand. “Do they like a gentle touch or something a little rougher? Or do I—”

  “Leah, stop,” he cuts me off, and he bites his bottom lip in what appears to be an attempt to hide his amusement. Though, what he’s amused about is beyond me. To me, there’s nothing amusing about jerking off cows.

  “What? I’m just trying to make sure I take your advice this time. Pump it fast, pump it slow—whatever you say, your wish is my command.”

  “Leah—”

  “Really,” I continue, my eyes fixated on Ro
nald as he steps back to do whatever it is you do with the cow sperm you’re going to ship halfway across the country. “I realize I was pigheaded and stubborn before, and I don’t want to let you down this time. Don’t want to let down the collection cause. So, you just let me know exactly how I need to have my grip and—”

  “Leah, darlin’, stop.”

  Finally, I look up to meet his eyes, and his expression has changed completely. To be honest, he looks about ready to explode. I’m not sure what I’ve done to make him upset now, but he looks seriously tense. Tight shoulders, flexed jaw, he’s standing so still it’s like he’s made of stone.

  “What?” I question with both arms out in front of me.

  “You don’t have to…jerk. You don’t have to move at all. Once the sleeve’s on there, the bull will pretty much do all the work, and they’ll do it quickly.”

  “They’re that into…well…Fleshlights for bulls?” I laugh. “God, I can’t even believe there’s someone who makes them. Or are they just regular Fleshlights? Do you get them from an adult cow store?”

  Rhett shakes his head. “They’re synthetic cow vaginas, and they’re manufactured specifically for this purpose. And for these bulls, who’ve been doin’ this since they were calves, it’s the only form of pleasure they know.”

  “So…they just come here and get their kicks two times a week?”

  “Pretty much.” Rhett nods. “Makes the whole process a whole lot easier, seein’ as they like it.”

  Damn, when I think about it, that’s certainly not a bad life. These bulls just come here twice a week, have a bit of pleasure-induced fun, and don’t have to worry about calling anyone the next morning.

  They get their rocks off on the regular and have zero complications. No commitment. No marriage. No dating. No repercussions or girl cows getting mad at them. Hell, they don’t even have to pay child support to all their baby cow mamas. They just come as they please, literally.

  “And that other cow, the one not doing the humping, I’m guessing she’s like the vagina decoy?” I ask. “The one the bull thinks he’s giving it to?”