I force my feet to move. Go away from it in your head. Don’t think about what you’re looking for. This is a ceiling just like any other ceiling, and it needs to be removed.
“Be careful,” Donny says. “We don’t want any of the…you know, stuff…to fall on our heads.”
Great. Just great. I pick up a saw. I can use tools in my sleep. My father and my uncles taught me everything about running a ranch, including carpentry work where necessary. Sure, we hired most of the big jobs out, but all of us were taught how to handle tools, basic carpentry, basic veterinary care, basic care of the orchards.
Everything to run the ranch successfully.
We work hard. We all work damned hard, even though none of us has to.
And sometimes I wonder what it’s all for.
What secrets does this barn hold? And why… Why did our fathers keep it all from us?
I escape in my mind. I force myself to think that I’m just doing basic carpentry work around the ranch. Except most of our barns don’t have ceilings. Just joists and rafters.
Have I ever removed a ceiling before? No, I haven’t, but I know how to.
All this should come naturally to me.
I secure my protective eyewear, flip the switch on the battery-powered saw, and I cringe as the blade cuts through the wood above me.
Dale and I saw, while Donny stands below us, ready to catch anything that might fall.
In a few minutes, Dale and I are ready to remove the first square of boards.
“Do you feel any give?” Donny asks.
“I don’t. I don’t feel anything. Just the weight of the boards.”
Dale and I pull the cut board away carefully, and as we hand it down to Donny, nothing falls on our heads.
“One of us needs to go up,” Dale says.
I swallow against the gag in my throat. Steel. I need to have nerves of steel, like my name implies.
“I’ll go.”
“Here.” Dale strips off his headlight and hands it to me.
“Thanks.” I strap the light around my own ball cap and climb up.
“Careful,” Donny says. “Can it hold your weight?”
I hoist myself up. “So far so good.”
“What is it?” Dale asks. “What do you see?”
My jaw drops.
Chapter Nineteen
Rory
I’m home, and thankfully Callie is not. I have our bathroom to myself. I fumble with the ovulation kit, reading the directions quickly.
Luteinizing hormone, otherwise known as LH. Apparently that’s the hormone that signals my ovary to release an egg, so when the LH reaches a certain level, I can assume that ovulation will occur in the next twelve to thirty-six hours.
To determine this, I must pee on a stick, just like a pregnancy test.
I should pee between noon and eight p.m., because apparently some women have a surge of LH in the mornings, which can screw with the result.
Check. I’m within the time frame.
I also have to make sure my urine is concentrated, which means I have to avoid peeing for an hour or two before the test.
Check. I haven’t peed since before my appointment at the sperm bank.
Here goes nothing.
I’m about midway between cycles, so there’s a good chance my LH will be at the required level.
I sit down on the toilet to do my business.
Then I wait.
I wait…and I wonder what the hell I’m doing.
What exactly am I going to do if the test is positive? Force Brock to have sex with me tonight?
I can always go to a different sperm bank—one that’s content to just sell me sperm.
But there’s a reason I went to the clinic I did. I was familiar with their website, and I liked how they did things.
Maybe Davey’s right. Maybe I’m not quite ready.
I nearly fall off the toilet seat when the alarm on my phone goes off.
Time to read the test.
I take a look.
My heart races. I’ve reached the threshold. I will ovulate in the next twelve to thirty-six hours.
Which means I need to have sex tonight. Or tomorrow night.
Brock hasn’t called me. “I’ll call you,” he said.
No call.
But you know what? This is the freaking twenty-first century. Nothing is stopping me from calling him.
I laugh out loud at the absurdity of it all. I’m sitting on the toilet, my jeans around my ankles, testing for ovulation, only to find out I’m ripe.
Ripe for the picking.
With no one to pick me.
It doesn’t have to be Brock Steel. I just have to have sex with someone tonight. Someone male, who won’t insist on a condom. Or on pulling out.
I laugh out loud again.
So much I haven’t considered.
I’m not on the pill. I haven’t had to be, since my last two serious relationships were with women. Pregnancy wasn’t an issue. Plus, I’ve been tested, as have all my partners, and I’m disease free.
I pose no threat to a man.
But what if… What if the guy poses a threat? I can’t go around having unprotected sex and hoping to get pregnant. I could get something other than pregnant, and that would not be good.