CJ points to several indicators that the herd is struggling. If winter drags on much longer, we may have no choice but to supplement.
I’m not a policymaker yet, but I reply to the team with my unpopular opinion anyway. Two minutes after I’ve sent it, a reply pops up from CJ.
I think we should discuss this over lunchtoday.
I double check that the email was sent just to me and not the entire team before typing out my reply:
I’ll be at my desk with my PB&J. Feel free to drop by.
He replies within seconds.
I’ll pick you up at noon.
A little thrill races under my skin as I check the clock—that’s only forty-five minutes from now.
I hit reply and type outWhere are we going?
Another nearly immediate reply pops into my inbox.
Do you like surprises?
My first instinct is to lie, because the obvious answer isyes. Everyone likes surprises, especially from a sexy cowboy who tolerates your meltdowns and hasn’t yet run for the hills.
No. But with you I’m willing to try just about anything.
Are you talking dirty to me?
I laugh out loud.
A sharp knock on my door makes me jump. I close my email and spin in my chair, my cheeks burning, to find Keith sauntering into my office. Why does he bother knocking if he’s just going to barge in?
Unease churns in my gut. Did I make a mistake and “reply all” to CJ’s email?
He pauses next to my desk, arms crossed. “We weren’t scheduled to survey Little Elk Creek until next month.”
“It was a nice day yesterday.”
He cocks an eyebrow. “Did you collect butterflies and make daisy chains while you were at it?”
I wish I had some snappy retort, but words are bottling up in my throat. “The spring flooding is going to be epic after so much snowfall this winter. We need that data now.”
“So you saddled up and went alone the minute my back was turned?”
“In the Selkirks, I?—”
He leans down, so he’s looming over me. “Field work is something you have to earn around here.”
“Why? Because I’m a girl?”
Keith scoffs. “It’s called building trust.”
There’s a kernel of truth to this, but the logic isn’t quite tracking. How am I going to earn his trust by sitting behind my desk all day?
“You’re not going to get anywhere in this job by being so difficult all the time.” His tone isn’t harsh, but the words still sting.
I shouldn’t let him get to me. But deep down, I know he’s right. I am difficult. My goals too big. My standards unreasonable. I’m inflexible. Unfriendly. Unlikeable.
Unworthy.