The Curvy Vet and the Billionaire Cowboy (He Wanted Me Pregnant!) Read Online Free PDF

Was it because he had the money? Or was the money some sort of karmic reward for being all positive and carefree. And why couldn’t I be more like that?
    “Basically,” said Russ, “I hated my life.”
    I sat up straight. “What?”
    He shrugged. “I was sitting at the head of the table of a big oil company. Couple of billion in my portfolio, company jet, roomful of lawyer ready to pounce like attack dogs on whoever I set them on, and I realized…none of it was real.”
    I looked at him blankly.
    He sighed. “What you do,” he said. “Saving animals’ lives. That means something. That’s important.”
    I blinked. Important? That was a word I’d never heard attached to what I did before.
    “All I did was make zeroes into more zeroes on a spreadsheet,” he said. “Buying and selling. I wasn’t creating anything. The world wasn’t a better place for me being in it. Probably a worse one.” He took a deep breath. “So I got out.”
    “Just like that?”
    He gave me a lopsided smile. “Well, it wasn’t like I gave up my worldly goods and became a monk. I cashed out pretty well. Found a nice place to call home and bought the stud farm. Now I get to actually do something with my hands, instead of just nodding and giving orders all day. And I’ve got time, for the first time in years. Time to relax, time to think about settling down with someone and starting a family. I’d been buried in my work. Do you know what it’s like to look around and realize what you’ve been missing?”
    Something went cold inside me. That’s not me in the lab, I thought quickly. I haven’t been missing anything. Have I?
    I had to quickly turn the conversation back to him. “So. Um. Horse breeding?” I smiled brightly.
    “Yes,” he said. Just one word. But I caught his eye and found myself flushing.
    For a vet, talk of breeding comes with the territory. I’d had countless conversations about bull semen and fertility cycles and the best stallion to mate with a mare, and I’d long since gotten over any embarrassment about it. So…why did it suddenly feel different, talking about it with Russ? Was it because those conversations had all been with overweight ranch owners with no necks, pushing sixty, while Russ was lounging there with his strong chest and chocolate brown eyes?
    Or was it because, only a moment before, he’d been talking about starting a family?
    I swallowed. “Well,” I said. “That sounds like a worthy, ah…pursuit.” I cast my eyes about for an excuse to escape and go to bed. It was too early, really, but maybe I could say I was tired—
    “I’d like to get your advice, if I could,” he said.
    I swallowed again. I was sitting facing him, both of us stretched out with our backs against rocks and our feet almost touching as we gazed at the fire. “Sure.”
    “This feral horse we’re after…if we can save her, I was thinking about using her to start a line.”
    I looked at the fire. “You’d have to tame her, first.”
    “Right,” he said. “I’d have to break her.”
    Break her.
    “And then…you know, maybe it wouldn’t be a good idea to move too fast.” I stared very intently at the flames. “I mean, you wouldn’t want to do it as soon as she was at the farm.”
    His tone was neutral. “Oh. No?”
    I leaned a little closer to the fire. Maybe if I got close enough, he’d think that was the reason my cheeks were red. “No. She’d have to settle in first. She’d have to trust you.”
    “’Me’?”
    “ Him. She’d have to trust him. The stallion who was going to, um….”
    “Mount her.”
    “Yes. Mount her. She’d have to be ready.”
    “How would I tell?” Russ asked. “How would I tell if the feral mare’s ready to be covered?” He paused. “What should I look for?”
    —this is not happening don’t be stupid he’s talking about horses he’s talking about horses—
    “Um…well, you can often see it in the way she…breathes. Like, if she’s all sort of…heady