Page 19 of Cattle Stop

“He can’t sell it.”

Whit picks up a shirt off the floor and shakes it out. It’s Cooper’s, clearly, a size too small to be Whit’s. One autumn when he’d swung by on a visit, Cooper had mixed up their jackets and found himself swimming in Whit’s, the cuffs falling past his hands and the shoulders too roomy. Unfair, he’d thought at the time, like by virtue of also living a life working outside all damn day, Cooper should have the same build to fill out clothes like Whit does. Now, he just stares at the shirt as Whit throws it on top of Cooper’s sweatpants.

“Thought you were heading out to your new job.” Whit turns his back to Cooper, grabs his own sweatshirt by the back of the neck, and hauls it over his head, taking the long-sleeved shirt underneath with it and leaving his back bare.

Oh man. Shifting muscles in the morning light streaming through the window. The narrow taper of Whit’s waist and the breadth of his shoulders. Brown skin that doesn’t pale like Cooper’s does over the winter, just looks smooth and soft over the sharp jut of his shoulder blades and the long dip of his spine.

Cooper would never see Whit again. He shifts a step back, dropping his toast onto his plate. He’d stay in touch with Drew. But Whit? No, if Drew sells this place, then when Cooper steers his truck down the dirt lane that leads away from the farm, that’ll be that between him and Whit. All those years of getting under each other’s skin, of bickering and annoyance and—and that kiss.

“Drew can’t sell the farm.” Cooper grabs for his jeans. There’s stiff, dried mud on the cuffs and it falls in dusty clumps onto the floor. Whatever, he’ll deal with that later. First things first. “We’ll get those gates fixed, and I’ll talk to Drew when he’s done with the house today.”

“I’ve talked to Drew, and he—”

“And I’ll get that back pen fixed, too, so it’s not an entire summer of chasing cows.”

“Cooper.”

“Look, you do you. But I’m going over to Brad’s to get some new gates.”

“Brad doesn’t sell gates. Cooper, the financial reality that Drew’s facing is—”

“You know, you might have a more positive attitude if you didn’t clear out of here at dawn o’clock and bothered to sleep more. Brad sold his herd, so ergo, Brad has no use for the gates he has. It’s a hell of a lot cheaper than going to the co-op. Closer, too. Money saved, that’s how you do it.”

“You’re going to just take Brad’s gates?”

“I’m going to ask Brad nicely for his gates, and then I’m going to come back here and talk to Drew and get this entire situation fixed.”

Whit puts his hands on his hips. It bulges out the muscles in his shoulders. Cooper doesn’t let himself admire the sight of Whit’s pecs or the flat line of his abs, just jerks on one sock and then the next.

“You’re going to just fix it? Just like that?”

“I’m going to do something more than putter around like everything’s the same as it always is. So yes, I’m going to Brad’s, and you can sit around here with your thumb up your butt, doesn’t matter to me.”

Whit sighs loudly and grabs a shirt from his dresser. “I’ll drive.”

On the shady side of the street, snow sits under the trees and in the shadows of the houses they drive past. Cooper turns away from the window so he doesn’t have to look at those tidy, neat little lawns with their swimming pools and basketball hoops and swing sets.

“Have you been by Brad’s place since he sold off his herd?” Cooper asks.

“You could’ve just called Brad, not dragged us across town.”

“This is so much more fun.” Cooper waves a hand between them. “When else would we get to spend such quality time together?”

“I’m serious.”

“Oh, I know, ’cause being serious is what you’re best at.” Cooper shrugs and turns back to the window. “Don’t worry. One blaze of farm-saving glory, and then I’ll be out of your hair, so you’re welcome, bud.”

And Whit can go back to his life without Cooper. The second Cooper drives away after each visit, Whit probably comes up with a damn laundry list of complaints for Penny and Drew, complete with a presentation and handouts laying out all the reasons Cooper shouldn’t be allowed back next time.

Next time. Cooper touches his fingers to his stomach, frowning at the houses that whizz past the window.

The domed tops of the silos come into view over the trees first, and then the roof of Brad’s barn. It’s a pretty spot. The house peeks out of the forest and an old lichen-crusted stone wall runs along the driveway. Cooper’s always thought so, the handful of times he’s dropped by, though without cows sticking their heads out of the barn, it just seems lonely. Quiet too, when Whit turns off the truck and Cooper jumps down to the muddy gravel of the driveway.

The door to the house opens and Brad waves. “Cooper!” he calls, both arms held out. Cooper gets hugged again and the smack on his shoulder is just as hard. Whit just gets a lift of Brad’s chin and Cooper’s shoulder smarts in jealousy. “Whit. Hey.”

“Morning,” Whit says.

“Didn’t know you’d both be coming,” Brad says. He’s got gum in his mouth again and he snaps it loudly.