The Shearing Gun by Renae Kaye

Author:Renae Kaye [Kaye, Renae]
Language: eng
Format: epub

Chapter 15

IT WAS Saturday before Elliot finally made it to my place to check out his surprise. I’d been smiling to myself all morning, knowing he was on his way. I was getting my shearing kit into gear since Elliot had told me I could get back to work. Despite selling off most of my rams, I was still scraping the bottom of my bank account, trying to pay the mortgage and keep myself fed.

Tom Aitkens had rung me the night before and asked if I was up and about. I told him I was not going to be able to do a lot—maybe only half a day’s work—but he told me he’d take what he could. He was crutching his lot on Wednesday and had two guys lined up. I would make a third.

I waited for Elliot in the shed, simply to observe him walk across the paddock. He was smiling brightly, and his loose hipped stroll turned me on. I was developing a thing for that walk. I wondered if I could persuade him to do it for me naked.

I was in the shadows of the shed, and we were alone apart from Buck, so I threw out my arms in welcome, and he stepped into them without hesitating, kissed me deeply, and ground his pelvis against mine.

“Mornin’, Quackle,” I told him as we breathlessly broke apart. “I hope you don’t greet all of your patients like this.”

He flushed red and stepped back. “Umm, no. And I need to talk to you about that, Hank.”

“Oh-oh, this sounds serious,” I teased. I picked up the oil and began applying it to the comb. I was smiling and laughing, but inside a pit of fear had opened. Was he calling it quits already?

“It’s serious and I need you to—what are you doing?” He was frowning at me as I worked my piece, fitting the combs to make sure they weren’t bent, cleaning them of dirt and making sure they were nicely oiled.

“I have a job on Wednesday. Just making sure I’m ready.”

“A job? As in shearing? Hank, are you sure you’re ready? I told you mid-August.”

“It’s just crutching. The boss knows I’m not up to full strength, so if it begins to hurt, I’ll stop. I figured that since I can take you and throw you down on the bed without it even twinging, I should be able to handle a couple of sheep.”

The blush was back again. I wondered if I could make it three blushes in three minutes. “Maybe you could throw me because your mind was occupied with something else at that moment. I don’t think you were exactly worrying about hurts and aches then, buddy.”

“You could be right,” I conceded. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

Yep! Score! Three blushes in three minutes.

“What the hell is crutching, anyway?” he asked.

“It’s just taking the dags off so the sheep don’t get flyblown.”

“Dags? Flyblown?”

It was exasperating. “City wankers!” I groaned in mock frustration. Then I grinned at him.

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