Misplaced Princess (Foreign Affairs, Book One)

by Couper, Lexxie

  “Not yet,” Hunter said. “That’s the last resort. I’d like to give her a chance to deliver him without the strap.”

  “Strap?” Annie whispered.

  “It’s not as dire as it sounds,” the other man assured her. “If Hunter can’t get the calf in the right position, we put a nylon strap around both of the calf’s legs and pull a little. Help things along.”

  Hunter continued whatever he was doing inside the cow. Annie patted the mother again, murmuring more words of comfort. She suspected her comments weren’t just keeping the mother calm. Hunter seemed to take solace in them as well. He gave her a grateful smile as he tried to move the calf.

  “I’m glad you’re here, Annie.”

  Annie imagined her sisters’ faces if they could see her now. She was in a barn in Australia, petting a cow, while Hunter had his hand somewhere Annie would never dream of sticking her own. What a day.

  “Okay. It’s coming.” Hunter removed his arm and Annie leaned closer, trying to get a better look. She’d never seen anything born in her life—not an animal or a baby—and she was absolutely fascinated, despite the blood.

  Soon, legs appeared, then a nose, a head. The cow continued to strain until finally, amazingly, the calf emerged.

  “Get me straw, Annie,” Hunter said as he reached for a towel. Annie grabbed a handful of hay.

  Hunter took a single piece. “Just one will work.” He tickled the calf’s nostrils as it started to breathe on its own.

  Annie gasped when the tiny creature began to move. He was okay. The calf was alive. She’d never seen anything so incredible in her life. “It’s a cow!”

  Hunter glanced at her and grinned. “A male cow.”

  “A boy,” Annie said with wonder. “We’ll have to go out and buy blue.”

  The other hand gave her a funny look. “Where are you from, love?”

  Hunter chuckled at the man’s question. “Marc Thompson, this is Annie Prince, from America. New York.”

  “New York?” Marc asked. “Isn’t that where Dylan went?”

  Annie nodded but didn’t add more. She wasn’t sure how much the hands on Farpoint knew about her and Dylan, didn’t know how much Hunter wanted to share with them.

  Marc chuckled, his blue eyes shining with a light Annie recognized as mischief. “There’s no bloody way I’d take off halfway ’round the world for a woman. Even if she was as pretty as Dylan reckoned.”

  Annie’s belly knotted a little at the hand’s words.

  Hunter let out a low sound, and to Annie’s ears it sounded like a growl. “That’s enough, Thomo.”

  Marc grinned, dropping Annie a cheeky wink. “Although I gotta admit, the accent’s bloody sexy. Say something else for me, Annie Prince.”

  Annie blinked, unsure how to react. Australian men unsettled her at times, their sense of humor hard to get a handle on. She suspected Marc was teasing her in a friendly way—at least the easy way he smiled at her indicated such—but she wasn’t sure. The hands on Farpoint really didn’t know who she was. Maybe he was flirting with her?

  She cleared her throat, flicked Hunter a quick look and then gave the waiting cowboy a smile. “Wanna get some cawfee from Starrbucks, Marc?” she asked, turning on her most New York accent.

  Marc threw back his head and laughed, a relaxed sound that echoed around the shed. Annie noticed the hint of ink peeking from under the open collar of his shirt, but what the tat was, she couldn’t tell.

  “Oh, that does it for me, baby.” He grinned at her. “Any chance you wanna crawl into my bed tonight and talk in that sexy accent some more?”

  “Settle down, Thompson,” Hunter said. “You’ll give us Aussie blokes a bad name.”

  Marc flashed another grin at Annie. “Me? Nah. Besides, I’m not the typical Aussie bloke.”

  Hunter snorted. “That’s for certain.” He shook his head. “Do you carry on like this when Dylan’s around?”

  Marc burst out laughing again. “Hell no.”

  Hunter groaned. “Then shut the hell up now and pretend I’m the boss out here for a while, will you? I’m the one who had my hands elbow-deep in cow, you know.”

  Marc tapped the brim of his hat with a finger, dropping Annie another wink. “Can do, boss.”

  Annie found herself smiling. She couldn’t help it. The whole tête-à-tête was so bizarrely unexpected and fun.

  Marc pointed to the calf. “You ever seen a calf born?”

  Annie shook her head. “Not a lot of cows in Manhattan.”

  “Well, we appreciate your help, even if you are a Yank,” Marc teased. “In fact, I think maybe we should mark the occasion somehow, since it’s your first time.” Marc looked at Hunter. “How about we call this little fella Prince in honor of our assistant?”

  “I didn’t do anything,” Annie insisted.

  Hunter winked at her. “You did plenty. And I think that’s a great idea, Marc.” Hunter bent over and placed his hand on the newborn calf’s nose. “I hereby dub you, Prince.”

  Annie felt her throat tighten, touched by the sweet gesture.

  Hunter walked over to her. “I’d help you up, but…”

  He lifted his slimy, glove-covered hands and she crinkled her nose. “No thanks.” She stood and followed him to a large sink behind the stable. They took turns washing their hands.

  “So what did you think of that?” Hunter asked.

  “It was the most fascinating, scary, exciting thing I’ve ever seen. I can’t wait to write about it.”

  Hunter handed her a towel. “You’re right. It is all those things. I’d forgotten.”

  “How could you forget that?”

  Hunter shrugged. “Seeing a calf born isn’t a new thing for me. Happens pretty often around here. I guess I’ve let the wonder of the moment slip away. You just gave it back to me.”

  Annie smiled, pleased. Hunter was clearly born to the right place, the right time. It was a concept she’d considered a lot lately. She’d never felt like she fit in her family, her home. Annie wished there was someplace where she could feel a sense of belonging. She envied Hunter that. He belonged on Farpoint Creek.

  “Hey, boss,” Marc called from the shed. “I think we’ve got a problem.”

  Annie’s heart dropped. “Prince.”

  They rushed back into the stable. The mother had risen and was standing in a corner, away from her new baby.

  “She’s rejecting it,” Hunter said.

  “What’s that mean?”

  Hunter shrugged. “Just what it sounds like.”

  Marc was in the process of cleaning the calf. “Ordinarily the mother will do this, but she’s not feeling too kindly toward the little thing right now.”

  Hunter sighed. “Dylan would push this issue, right?”

  Marc nodded. “I can tie her up, pen her in with Prince, but she’s pretty anxious right now. I’d hate to see her hurt the calf.”

  Hunter was quiet for a few minutes as he watched the mother. “Get a bottle, Marc. We can feed Prince that way until the mother calms down a bit.”

  Marc’s face cleared and Annie knew he approved of Hunter’s decision.

  “Is this normal?” she asked.

  Hunter grasped her hand, tugging her close enough that he could wrap his arm around her shoulders. She’d never been with a man who held her hand, hugged and kissed her so often. It was as if he couldn’t keep his hands off her. Annie liked it. A lot.

  “It’s not unheard of in difficult births. Or even easy ones, for that matter. There are ways to get the mother to accept the baby, but I think we’ll give them both a rest for right now.”

  Marc came back with a large bottle. Hunter handed it to Annie. “You want to feed Prince while Marc and I get some clean straw for that stall? Our little calf and his mother are going to stay in here for a few days.”

  Annie took the bottle and looked at the newborn calf. “Um. Okay. Sure.” She sat next to the baby and coaxed him to suck on the bottle.

  Hunter ruffled Ann
ie’s hair. “You’re a born jillaroo.”

  She snorted. “Did you just make that word up?”

  Hunter shook his head. “Nope. It’s a real one. Means you were born to work on a station. What you Americans call a ranch hand. But a girl one. A jackaroo is a bloke. A jillaroo is…well, you get the drift.”

  Hunter and Marc left her alone in the stable with Prince. As the calf suckled, Annie sighed contentedly. She could see the appeal of this lifestyle. It was peaceful at Farpoint. No horns blaring, people yelling, construction work. No paparazzi following her, cameras flashing, phones ringing. Nothing but quiet, blissful silence.

  She stroked the calf’s head. “You’ll be okay,” she murmured softly. “Your mommy’s just tired. She’s still here. She won’t leave you forever.” Annie swallowed hard against the lump forming in her throat. “And if she does, you’ll be okay because I’ll take care of you. I know what it’s like to lose a mother. I won’t let you feel lonely, okay, Prince?”

  Hunter stood at the back door of the equipment shed and listened to Annie’s promise. She’d mentioned her mother’s desertion, acted like the event was nothing, no big deal. He saw through that act now. Annie felt her mother’s rejection deeply. Hunter longed to go to her, but he didn’t think she’d thank him for eavesdropping.

  A slight movement by one of the front stalls caught his attention. His mum’s gaze captured his and he could tell by the upset look on her face, she’d heard Annie too.

  She jerked her head to the right, indicating she wanted to talk to him. Hunter nodded silently then walked around the outside of the shed, not wanting to disturb Annie. His mother met him at the front doors, beside the main water tank.

  “Dylan called.”

  Hunter glanced toward the house. “Is he still on the phone?”

  “No. He rang while you were delivering the calf. I told him Annie was here and safe. Told him not to worry because you were taking good care of her.”

  Hunter thought his mother’s tone was almost hopeful, but he dismissed it as wishful thinking on his part. Hazel wouldn’t condone him trying to steal his brother’s gal.

  “Shit. I was hoping to speak to him.”

  Hazel nodded. “I told him you’d ring later.”

  “Is he headed back?”

  Hazel shook her head. “No. Airline lost his luggage. He’s staying there until they find it.”

  Hunter rubbed his eyes wearily. Resisting Annie would be a lot easier when Dylan was back. At least…he hoped it would be.

  Annie walked out of the shed, covering her mouth with a yawn neither he nor his mother missed.

  “You working Annie too hard today, Hunter? Poor girl hasn’t even recovered from her trip and you’ve got her pulling calves in labor and delivery.”

  Annie gave him a teasing grin. “He’s a taskmaster, Hazel. A regular slave driver.”

  Hunter crossed his arms and feigned annoyance. “Great. Typical of Dylan to head across the pond and bloody well leave me here outnumbered and surrounded by sheilas who think they’re funny.”

  Hazel laughed. “Drop it, boyo. Sheila? When was the last time anyone in this century used the term ‘sheila’? I think you’re bunging on an act for our guest here.” She wrapped her arm around Annie’s shoulders. “The best thing for you is a quick lunch and then a nap. It’s going to take you a few days to get your internal clock sorted. After you wake up, you can help me in the kitchen. I’m baking a cake for the Country Women’s Association. We’re meeting tonight for a potluck dinner.”

  “Country Women?” Annie asked.

  Hazel nodded. “It’s a meeting of all the wives who live at Farpoint.”

  “It’s an excuse to eat too much, drink a lot of wine and gossip,” Hunter clarified.

  Annie’s face brightened. “Ooo…wine. That sounds great.”

  “You’re welcome to come with me. You could include it in that article you’re writing about us.” Hazel had been far too pleased and willing to help when she’d learned about Annie’s series on Farpoint. If there was one thing his mum was proud of, it was her home. The idea of an American magazine featuring a story about them thrilled her to no end.

  “I’d love to go. If you’re certain I won’t be imposing.”

  “Not at all, my dear. We’d love to have you. In fact, our schoolteacher, Amy, will be over the moon to meet you. Though I fear she’ll pepper you with a thousand and two questions about New York. That girl is America-mad.” Hazel turned her toward the house and the two of them began to walk away.

  Annie glanced back at Hunter. He tried to ignore the longing in her eyes, but he couldn’t deny it was there. Couldn’t pretend the same look was probably lingering in his gaze. She’d brightened up his morning—and the previous evening, making him feel things he hadn’t felt in a very long time. The foolish sentiment made him feel like a green-around-the-gills teenager again.

  They were treading a dangerous path.

  He waved. “Go on and sleep. I’m going to finish up a few things in the shed, then tackle some paperwork in my office. I’ll see you before you head out to the meeting.”

  “Okay.”

  Hunter watched Annie and his mum walk to the house, the two women talking away like long-lost sisters. Hazel had embraced the New Yorker, taking her under her wing, and he was struck by how lonely his mum must be at the homestead with only him and Dylan for company.

  True, there were other women on Farpoint. Hell, the station was now big enough to have its own school for the hired hands’ little kids. The teacher, Amy Wesson, spent quite a bit of time with Hazel. But Amy was young and the hired hands’ wives treated Hazel like the boss she actually was, as did the jillaroos. Until Annie appeared, he’d never seen his mum so…happy. And chatty.

  Hunter let out a ragged breath.

  Annie was good for Hazel.

  She was good for all of them.

  Chapter Four

  Annie splashed her face with water from the trough, relishing the bite of the chill. She was sweating her ass off. It was the end of November, typically the beginning of winter in New York, and she was standing in the middle of a desert with sweat rolling down her back. Her muscles were sore from helping Hunter with some of the chores he said were common tasks on the station. She’d met quite a few of the jackaroos—and even a few jillaroos—who worked for the Sullivans. Farpoint Creek was clearly a large and important cattle station, given the sheer number of men and women who lived and worked on the land.

  She’d recorded hours of interviews and conversations and tried to list key points she didn’t want to forget to include in her writing. Several times she’d been so caught up in the moment, she’d completely forgotten to record or note anything, so she’d have to rely on her memory for some things when it came time to prepare her articles. There was simply too much going on all the time.

  “Feel better?” Hunter asked.

  She nodded. It was only her third day on the station. Three very busy, crazy, work-filled days. “It’s so hot.”

  Hunter grinned. “Oh love, this isn’t hot. Summer hasn’t even started to kick in yet.”

  “Holy shit. How can you stand it?”

  Hunter shrugged as he handed her a towel to dry her face. She’d given up trying to wear makeup during the day. It was pointless considering she’d simply sweat it all off before noon. Given the way Hunter was looking at her, he didn’t appear to mind her au naturale appearance.

  Hunter picked up the wide-brimmed Akubra Hazel had loaned her and put it back on her head. “We find ways to beat the heat. Speaking of, you’ve been working hard the last couple of days. Why don’t I show you more of the station? So far most of your chores have been around the homestead. I’ll give you a tour and,” he lifted a large bag she hadn’t noticed before, “even throw a picnic in as part of the deal.”

  Annie’s stomach rumbled hungrily. “Food sounds awesome.” She’d found her appetite in Australia. Never a big eater at home, she typically existed on salads and yogurt.
Since her arrival at Farpoint, she’d worked up a hunger she didn’t know existed. Hazel had invited her to help make dinner last night, sharing recipes and cooking tips. Growing up with a household cook who considered the kitchen his sacred property, Annie had never been exposed to the joys of cooking and baking.

  Last night, she and Hazel had turned up an oldies station on the radio and danced around in aprons while baking fresh rolls for dinner and a pecan pie for dessert. She smiled at the memory.

  “So let’s talk about your skills on a horse.”

  Her smile disappeared. “You mean like riding one?”

  Hunter nodded.

  “We’re not going to take the ute?” Annie smiled again, proud of her use of the unique Australian word. Why they didn’t just say “pickup” was beyond her, but she liked the way ute sounded in her mouth. She was discovering she liked a lot of things about Australia.

  He grasped her hand and tugged her toward the stable. “I’ll take that to mean you’re not a horsewoman.”

  “That would be a very good assumption to make.”

  They reached the shed just as Frankie, a young hand she’d met the previous day, came out with a saddled horse. Hunter took the reins from him.

  “Thanks, mate.”

  Annie peered behind Frankie. “Only one horse? Were you that sure of my answer?”

  Hunter winked at her. “You mentioned a lack of cows in Manhattan. I assumed the same held true for other four-legged creatures.”

  Annie put her hands on her hips. “I’ll have you know there are tons of horses in the city.”

  “Really?”

  She nodded. “There are horse-drawn buggies in Central Park and policemen who patrol the streets on horses.”

  “I stand corrected then. Does this mean you want to ride alone rather than behind me?”

  She glanced at the large animal and considered trying to control something so powerful on her own. Her gaze drifted back to Hunter’s muscular form and she licked her lips. He was certainly a strong creature she’d like to ride, though she suspected she wouldn’t have much more luck controlling him. Not that she’d mind that much. Visions of Hunter lying beneath her on the bed as she straddled his hips flashed before her eyes, and suddenly it wasn’t just sweat that was leaving her wet and sticky.