She was a healer and knew some of the worst wounds were not physical. The type she did not know how to treat; she knew of no medicine that would heal them and yet injuries to the heart and spirit happened every day. They left scars in the most vulnerable places, marring the soul.
“Look at Dad.” Addy’s whisper vibrated with delight. “In front of us, he can barely even hold Cady’s hand. Like we couldn’t have guessed they were kissing in the kitchen.”
“He’s bashful,” she said because the truth bunched in her throat and she didn’t want to say those words and ruin the happy moment as Cady laughed gently. Buttercup let out another moo at not being invited to the picnic table and Dad called out to the cow in his tender, deep-noted baritone.
Dad’s wounds still affected him and made it tough for him to bare his vulnerable heart. If she looked past her own denial to how shattered she’d been when Edward broke things off with her, she felt similarly. Love that lasted and stood the test of years and hardship was rare. There was no way to tell ahead of time which relationship would endure and which would fail. That was why she was staying single for a long, long time.
Chapter Three
“Daddy, why are the cows in the road?”
“I don’t know. I’m not a cow expert.” Adam stopped in the middle of the country road, since he had no choice. The herd of black cows with snowy faces blocked both lanes. No way around them. He’d always thought cows were flighty and scattered easily but changed his mind as the herd lifted their heads unconcerned at the car’s approach. Not one animal shied or ran. On the contrary, the creatures stood their ground like living, breathing tanks.
“They shouldn’t be out of their pasture.” The click of a seat belt told him his littlest had unbuckled. Julianna poked in between the front seats, straining to see. “I don’t recognize any of them.”
“How many cows do you know?”
“The Grangers have tons of cows.” Julianna gripped the leather seats and levered herself over the console and into the passenger seat, her gaze riveted on the animals. “I know Buttercup and Jasmine and Daisy and—”
“I get the picture,” he interrupted before she could go on and name the “tons” of cows she’d been introduced to one by one. He glanced at the dashboard clock irritably. They were fashionably late, thanks to Jenny who had changed outfits more than half a dozen times before she was fit to be seen in public.
“Can I go say hi?”
“No.” He made sure the word boomed with authority. Under no circumstance was his little slip of a daughter walking up to those enormous and dangerous-looking creatures. One animal had horns sticking out of his head. That couldn’t be good. Adam hit the car horn in one long blast. Surely honking would startle them into getting out of the way.
Wrong. Instead of bolting, the cows focused on his car with pinpoint accuracy. Dozens upon dozens of brown eyes zeroed in on the newly waxed finish and plodded forward, as if mesmerized by the brightness. They created an impenetrable barrier across the road like soldiers on a march. One bold cow broke out of the pack and lapped the grill with its tongue.
What on earth? Adam hit the horn again, long and loud. That ought to scare the cow, or at least give it a reason to back off a few feet.
Wrong. Curious, the cow leaned over the hood as if trying to peer into the windshield. The cow seemed as big as a truck and he’d never seen anything in real life with such huge teeth. The mouth opened, that big head shook, a spot of drool splashed on the windshield. At the back of his mind, he remembered the televised images of bulls goring runners on the streets of Spain that had made it to the evening news.
“I wouldn’t honk again if I were you, Dad.” Jenny crossed her arms, bored in the backseat.
“Yeah, Dad. Do we have anything to eat in the car?” Julianna asked.
The enormous cow’s teeth flashed as he bit into the windshield wiper and tugged it away from the glass. It stood up at half-mast, a little crooked. Excited, other cows crowded in, trying to grab it. Tongues tugged at the side-view mirror, others licked at the paint, teeth clamped on the door handles.
Now what did he do? He saw tomorrow’s headlines in the little local paper. Sedan Demolished by Bovine Attack.
“Dad, do we have any granola bars?” Julianna giggled as a cow spotted her through the window and tried to lick at her through the glass with swipe after swipe of her big tongue. The car rocked slightly as cows bumped against it.
“You and Jenny ate them. Snacks will spoil your dinner.”
“It’s not for me.” Julianna laughed, the door popped open and the scent of sun-warmed animals and the sound of paint being licked off his new car filled the passenger compartment.
“Young lady, get back in here—” Too late. She was gone, mobbed by the huge creatures who licked at her face, grabbed hold of her pigtails and tugged on her shirt.
“Julianna!” Sheer terror shot through him. He lunged after her, caught short by the tight embrace of the seat belt. Adrenaline pumped through his system but her giggle lifted above the sound of shifting of hooves and his car being mauled.
The cows miraculously looked up and stopped attacking his vehicle. Someone knocked on his driver-side window. A woman with auburn locks and laughing blue eyes appeared through the bovine throng.
Cheyenne Granger.
“Get back, Shrek.” She approached the horned behemoth fearlessly and patted him on the nose. “I know it’s exciting to be out here on the road, but it’s not safe. I hope that windshield wiper isn’t bent.”
Contrite, the animal offered his nose for a petting.
Adam rolled down his window, hoping the fact that he had trouble breathing didn’t show. She affected him, there was no way to deny it. “I wasn’t sure what to do. Are the cows safe?”
“They are tame, but as you can see, not harmless if left to their own devices.” She shoved the windshield wiper into place. “I’ll give the Parnells a call. It looks as if Shrek took down a part of his fence. You like doing that, don’t you, buddy?”
The big black-and-white bull—yes, it was really a bull—gave a head toss and focused on the pink phone she’d pulled from her pocket. She was a vet for a reason. Her gentle confidence, her loving laugh as the cows crowded around her trying to grab her cell, the way she lit up with affection as she rubbed noses, scrubbed ears and moved aside for Julianna to join in.
“This is a regular occurrence?” His question drew one cow’s attention who came over and stuck her nose through the window. What did he do? “Shoo.”
“That’s not going to work, Dad.” Jenny’s seat belt clicked, the door whispered open and he was alone with the bovine. Rather damp lips that smelled like grass came dangerously close to his wristwatch. His oldest daughter came to the rescue with a gentle, “Come here, girl.”
He took notes in case there was a next time, as the three human females led the throng of cows away. His neurotransmitters fired haphazardly, which had to be the reason he couldn’t look away from Cheyenne. The side-view mirror framed her perfectly as she walked with her hand on the bull’s neck, chatting merrily to the animals and to his daughters.
What was it about the woman? Why couldn’t he look away?
She paused at the green truck parked behind him and rummaged around in the backseat. She was a splash of colors, auburn hair, sun-bronzed skin,