A Baby...Maybe? & How to Hunt a Husband by Bonnie Tucker

clients.
    Besides, if he closed up on Sundays, the old men sitting in his waiting room would have to find somewhere else to park their asses and argue. Frankly, Rex would miss them. Except for Tigger. Right now he’d like to punish the old guy and ground him from the office for a week.
    But he wouldn’t. The old men meant a lot to him. They also had a stake in his business. In LuLu to be exact. LuLu the prize bull. The bull that had been owned by one Jeb Stevens, formerly of Montana and lately of Miami Beach. The bull that had gone on the auction block and sold for seven hundred fifty thousand dollars—if he said three-quarters of a million dollars, it made LuLu sound even more valuable. The bull that Rex now owned in partnership with his father and the seven men in his waiting room, who all had staked their retirement savings on LuLu and the semen he’d produce. Not because they thought the bull was a great bargain. Hell no. They all thought Rex had paid too much. But they believed in Rex, believed in his dream, and wanted Rex to succeed. If it took some overpriced bull to do that, well, then that’s what it took.
    LuLu was fed organically grown grain. No impurities had ever passed the bull’s lips. The cattle onRex’s ranch were fed the same mixture. All top-quality beef and first-rate breeding stock. Now, Tony Donetti was breeding Angus cattle for his own restaurant, and he also used the same mix of feed. It was superior feed for superior beef.
    An Angus was an Angus, but LuLu was a Galloway. Before he had come into Rex’s possession, LuLu had sired hundreds of championship stock cattle. Rex had had him about a year now, and the bull was well on his way to topping that record. Not the old-fashioned way though, but through the artificial insemination process.
    Not that Rex prevented LuLu from having his way with a cow. LuLu just wasn’t interested in cows. He was a million-dollar—or damn close to it—gay bull. Which didn’t matter to anybody as long as he had what it took to produce championship calves for those willing to pay the price.
    Jasper, Tigger and the rest of the guys were all sitting around, chewing the fat along with their tobacco and pretending they had nowhere to go, nothing to do. Everyone knew, however, they were there in the waiting room for one reason and one reason only. To protect their bull and make sure there would be a return on their investment while they were still around to enjoy it.
    Only today, they were seeming to get a big kick out of Rex and the mystery lady—a mystery to everyone but Tigger, that is.
    After the coffee finished brewing, Rex put the pot on the warmer in the waiting area. The men slowly creaked out of their chairs and took their place in line for a little jolt of caffeine to keep them going.
    Rex sat in Barbara’s chair to start working. He checked the calendar. None of the three appointments either Barbara or Cathy had scheduled canceled, which meant he was booked for most of the day. Thefirst was with a woman, Cara Romano, a name he didn’t recognize. The other two, Herman Jakes and Georgiana Rodgers, he had done business with before.
    â€œHey, boys, we’ve got us a new lady coming to visit.” There weren’t many women ranchers in the area. Georgiana, widow of Roger, had recently turned the ranch that had run in the red during Roger’s lifetime to pure black when she started breeding Galloway cattle using Noble semen, so they knew her.
    As far as the prospect of a new lady went, all he got was abstract grumbling from the old men. They were more interested in the woman over at Mandelay than anyone coming to talk about semen.
    Still, Rex let them know, “A new customer means more profit, boys.”
    â€œTrue, true,” Clyde, always the philosopher, agreed. “Tigger said she wore a sexy dress. I forget what that means.”
    â€œGet out.” Roy chopped him on the