Page 41 of Cattle Stop

Hard worker, hadn’t he just been telling Brad? He tries not to watch as Whit wipes a drop of water from the bottle onto his pants.

“Dinner was fine.” Cooper drops down next to Penny on the cooler. “Drew, that ricotta. Sold and sold.”

“My man!” Drew shouts, arms pumping again.

Penny leans her shoulder into Cooper’s arm, her weight warm and a little sweaty in the swamp of the evening’s air. “Just fine?”

“Fine, full stop.” He bounces his shoulder against hers, jostling her lightly.

Whit sets his beer on the cooler on Penny’s other side. “I’m going to get some more wood.”

“God, Whit, chill.” Cooper reaches over Penny’s lap and tips Whit’s bottle to the side, examining the level of beer in it. “Though I guess that’s a start.”

“That’s his third,” Penny whispers loudly.

“No.”

“Yes.” She bounces their shoulders together again.

“Whit, having fun? Is he okay? Are we learning tonight that drunk Whit hauls wood from hedgerows?” Cooper cups a hand around his mouth and shouts, “Lightweight!”

Above the trees, lightning flashes. Whit pretends not to hear him, just bends down and gathers another armful of wood. It gets his T-shirt dirty, a smudge of wet bark across his stomach and on the inside of his forearm, which he brushes off. The fire sends up a shower of sparks when Whit tosses the wood on the pile and a red and orange glow plays over his arms as he wipes his hands clean on the thighs of his jeans. Cooper sets the rim of the bottle against his lip and swallows hard.

“How was it?” Penny asks. “Really?”

“Oh.” Cooper clears his throat. Firelight always does funny things, dancing across Whit like that. Cooper shouldn’t be looking to begin with. “Yeah. Cheese. Brad’s going to give selling it a try.”

“So fucking awesome.” Drew tips his bottle up for a long drink. “Thank you, my dude.”

“I suffered through a night of hanging out with Brad for you.” Cooper lifts his own bottle in a salute. “True friendship. Talk about sacrifice.”

Whit scrapes his thumbnail over his palm. Cooper wonders if he’s even listening, over there on the edge of the group, probably still pissed that Cooper made a damn sale. Well, whatever. Let him linger just outside the fire’s glow if he wants to.

“I still can’t believe Brad quit farming,” Cooper says. “To just throw in the towel like that and move on.”

“Still looking for a farmer boy, Coop?” Drew claps his hand over his chest. “I like to think it’s aching, unrequited pining for yours truly.”

Cooper throws a marshmallow at him. “You’re too fucking goofy, Drew. Nice try.”

“Me?” Drew grabs the marshmallow from the ground and pops it into his mouth. “Look at you.”

“Did you eat that?” Cooper asks. “You ate that, didn’t you?”

“Tastes better off the ground, you weird little—” Drew circles the fire and grabs Cooper in a headlock, scrubbing his fist across Cooper’s head to mess up his hair.

“Get off, you giant—”

“Your bony-ass elbow, Coop, you—”

“If you fucking think about spilling that beer on me, Andrew, I swear to—”

“You’re going to light yourselves on fire.” Whit’s voice is as calm and deep as ever. Trapped in Drew’s headlock, Cooper can see Whit still working his nail into his palm, but there’s a curve to his lips that isn’t normally there, like he’d almost smile given another half of a beer.

“Well, Whit, wouldn’t you like it if we did?” Cooper asks.

“All that extra work,” Whit says, watching Drew. “I don’t think so.”

Drew wrestles him halfway off the cooler, and Cooper lets him, twisting for another look at Whit. That smile on Whit’s face—he seems happy. Huh. Happy that Drew’s happy. That’s…sweet.