The Rancher's Untamed Heart

"Oh, Neil is getting some time away from the baby," she said. "When you said you were coming over I texted him and told him to hit the gym or read a book or something, he's going to be so happy when he comes back."

"Cool, how is he taking to fatherhood?" I asked.

"Suspiciously well," she said. "I keep expecting him to have some sort of panicked meltdown, but he's been pretty calm about things so far. Diapers, feedings, burping, nothing has phased him yet."

"Good!" I said.

We turned the topic to Neil's job at the software engineering company and gossip about our own coworkers. After half an hour or so of this, Sarah yawned slightly behind her hand and I took the hint.

"It was great to see you," I said. "I'll try and keep that in mind. I'm a good cog, but I'm not the only cog."

She nodded.

"You're a damn fine cog, Naomi, but if you decide you want to leave the USDA, don't worry about the government machine. Worry about yourself and this handsome man who wants you," she said.

"What's this about handsome men? I was trying to be so sneaky, but you heard me come home," Neil said. He poked his head around the door to the kitchen and we both jumped. “I know you had to have been talking about me, right?”

"What the hell were you doing?" Sarah asked. "Trying to give me a heart attack so I'll stop putting the baby in outfits you hate?"

Neil smiled adoringly at his wife and came over to kiss her head.

"Nope," he said. "Trying not to wake the baby in her ugly outfits."

He looked over at me.

"Hey, Naomi. How are things? You have a handsome man?" he asked.

"I do," I said. "Trying to figure out what that means."

"I'll give you all the gory details soon," Sarah said, grinning at us both. Neil and I exchanged a look. I had no doubt that his wife would do just that. She was a chatty one, but I trusted her to only share my secrets with her husband.

The next time I walked into Clint’s office, I found him cursing over a pile of paperwork. Again.

Well, not really cursing. Clint doesn’t do what I would call real cursing, but he can sure talk his way around the matter until the paper should probably burst into flames out of sheer shame.

As I stood there, he continued.

“I would do better to just shove this whole pile into the sheep’s food, at least when it came out the other end, it’d be useful,” he said, glaring at me over the stack. “Only thing that stops me is it’d probably give them indigestion.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Clint. This has to stop.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, a challenge in his voice.

“Nuh-uh, no sir,” I said, “None of that real-men-do-their-own-paperwork crap. Don’t even start, I don’t want to hear it. Real men know that it’s better to get help than to work yourself to death doing a lousy job at something you’re not good at.”

He winced. “Not gonna pull any punches today, are you?”

“Never, it’s for your own good,” I said. “The sensible thing to do as a ranch owner is to put the right man on every job. You’re not the right man for this job.”

“I always get it correct in the end,” he grumbled.

“That’s right,” I agreed, “But while you’re getting it right, you’re not checking fences, dealing with the hands, talking to buyers, or making decisions. You know, the things you’re good at. The things like making decisions that only you can do.”

“What are you driving at,

woman?” he asked. “You look like you have a plan.”

“Of course I have a plan,” I said. “It’s as plain as the nose on your face. Come on.”