“I’m not certain what Bull and I were, but after this, I have no doubt he’ll want me to leave.” My chest aches. We had something. Two people cannot come together the way we did and not have something building between them. I can’t be alone in how I feel about him, but maybe I am. I certainly was alone in what I thought of my marriage. Maybe I’m just a bad judge of character. Maybe I can’t interpret people like I think I can.
“Bull’s angry,” Harland interjects. “He just needs time to cool off. My boys are lovers. They got that soft spot from their mother. I’ve seen him fall in and out of love so many times that it’s like watching a child on a seesaw. Eventually, the ride gets old, though, and a man wants to stop playing around. He needs to figure out what he really wants. I’ll say this, his eyes never followed a woman around a room the way his follow you. I’m not certain he’s ever smiled the way he does when he sees you. He was too young in his first marriage. Desperate to prove himself with his second attempt. Not certain about that third bird, but you, Scarlett, you’re the four-leaf clover he’s been looking for. Don’t give up on him yet.”
Harland must be confused because it will be Bull who walks away from me and not the other way around. Not only is this breaking his heart but it’s also hurting his family’s livelihood. Inspections? Lawyer fees? Loss of business? Our little story went too far, and I need to make amends. I need to make things right.
The next morning, I’m up when the cows rise, or at least I think that’s what a dairy farmer might say. Harland walked me the remainder of the way to Bull’s place, and I returned to the guest room for the night, so I didn’t hear Bull if he came in. However, when I climb down the stairs, groggy from a restless night of sleep, I find the under-cabinet lights on in the kitchen. The coffee pot is full with a mug next to it. Bull’s been leaving a mug by the machine every morning as I can’t reach where he places them on the highest shelf in his cupboard. The gesture hits me like an arrow in the chest. He’s still such a sweet man.
After slipping into a pair of old Wellies near the side door, I strut down the lane, ready to swallow my pride and learn more about this farm I’m living on. In the dark quiet of the early morning, it’s peaceful, and I take a deep breath of fresh air despite the hint of cow manure. I enter the large white structure housing the Eaton herd and hold back a wave of nausea at the animal smell.
“What are you doing here?” Blade says.
“I’m here to help milk the cows,” I state, putting on a brave face while having no idea what I’m getting myself into. If I had visions of hand milking some hundred-plus cows, Bull quickly dispelled the fantasy a while back, giving me a tour of the place where a complicated-looking machine rivaling the coffee maker at the Busy Bean actually does the milking. Bull and his family still need to do plenty of other things to move the process along, like steering the animals into position, sanitizing their udders, or teats as I’ve been corrected, and then hooking the machines up to milk.
“What the hell?” Bull says from behind me, and I spin to face him, feeling small compared to his booming voice and large presence, but my breath also hitches as it’s so good to see him, even if it’s been less than twelve hours. He looks as tired as I feel.
“I’d like to learn more about the farm,” I admit, trying to stay strong, but my voice cracks. He glances away from me for a second before turning back with a shield over those midnight blue eyes.
“It’s not safe in here for you.”
“Why not?’ Blade comes to my defense. I’m ready for Bull to tell his brother about toxoplasma or animal infection concerns while I’m pregnant, but he and I already learned cows make the safe list. Although we’ve both assumed his family doesn’t know I’m pregnant, his dad clearly does, leaving me to wonder if the others have their suspicions.
“She’s . . . it just isn’t,” Bull catches himself. “We don’t need help.”
“We can always use help,” Blade interjects again.
“Not from Scarlett.” The words are a sucker punch to the gut. Bull has written me off as unacceptable to be near his precious herd.
“Blade, could you give us a minute?” I ask, glancing over my shoulder.
“I’ve got work to do,” Bull mutters, turning for the door, but Blade’s circling me, glaring at his brother.
He mumbles to his eldest brother, “Be nice.” Then he slips through the door, leaving Bull and me alone.
“I’ve got to get to work, and you should still be sleeping.” He isn’t looking at me as he speaks but staring toward the door as if he’s longing to make a break for it. He can’t get away from me fast enough.
“I didn’t sleep much last night,” I admit, missing him behind me, his arms around me. Shelton and I never slept close to one another, and I’ve grown accustomed to the warmth of Bull.
He huffs in response.
“Harland knows I’m pregnant,” I say, and Bull turns back to me.
“Did you tell him?” His voice rings incredulous as though I’ve betrayed him once again. It hurts that he thinks such a thing of me, but it’s not without reason. I shake my head.
“He said he just knew.” I recall his kind words about glowing. “He also mentioned it might be a good time to start learning about this place on a deeper level as I’m carrying its future.” My hand covers my lower belly. Does Bull still want this? I’m wearing knit leggings with some stretch and one of Bull’s T-shirts that fits almost like a dress. I’m warm, but I didn’t know what to wear.
“You might not be.” The strike hits its mark as Bull glares at me. After all his professions of wanting to be Sprout’s daddy no matter what, the words hurt. I should have known. My gut told me to wait. Don’t get involved with him. Stick to roommates.
Before I speak, I take a deep breath, fighting the pain in my chest. “Maybe we should find out sooner rather than later.” Bull has pushed for us to wait until the baby is born before taking a paternity test. While I want him to be Sprout’s daddy in every way, I also want to know the truth. I don’t want to feel like I’m still holding onto a piece of Shelton. After all that has happened, it’s time to learn the truth because I’m the one suddenly wading in muck, stuck up to my knees in love with a man who hates me.
“How?” Bull snaps.
“I’m sixteen weeks along, and I can have an amniocentesis.” I should really wait until I’m twenty weeks when I have another ultrasound, but I don’t want to put this test off any longer.
“What’s that?”
“It’s a genetic test. As I’m considered at risk due to my age, the test detects possible birth defects like Down syndrome and spinal bifida, but it can also determine paternity. We just need to swab the inside of your cheek for your DNA.”
“Birth defects?” Bull questions. “But you’re healthy.”
“Healthy as a cow.” The saying is healthy as a horse, but Bull doesn’t even crack a smile at my cow-comparison joke, and I swallow. “Anyway . . .”
“What about the baby?” Bull huffs, crossing his arms. “You can’t just draw blood from him.”