Page 6 of Cattle Stop

Whit sighs. Sets the knife down and wipes his fingers off. Then, he leans close to Cooper, close enough the hairs rise on the back of Cooper’s neck, and Whit’s breath ghosts over his ear as he whispers, “Penny says it’d make a big difference to Drew if you stayed tonight.”

Cooper jerks away.

“It would,” she says. “Tell him the other part.”

“No.”

“Tell him.”

Whit leans close again. Cooper tenses, his eyes straight ahead as Whit’s arm brushes his. “And we need help with work, too.”

“So, yeah?” Penny asks. “What d’ya think? Stay, would you?”

Whit’s here, Cooper so wants to say. He wants to rub at his ear.

Drew pours hot water into a mug and a couple drops miss, splattering against the nicked and worn wood of the counter. There’s still the circular burn-mark where, years ago, Cooper’d set down a pot straight from the oven, and afterward, he’d tried frantically to wipe the scorch away before Drew’s aunt saw.

She’d noticed it—but, Whit’d been the one giving him a look cooler than she ever had or would. How fucking typical.

Drew stares down at the water. He sighs and wipes it with the cuff of his sweatshirt, then stares at the wet mark, like wherever his mind is, it’s far away from the cause and effect of blotting and damp fabric.

Yeah, Cooper could spend the day here, help Drew out, and take off in the morning. Surely, he could manage twenty-four hours without wanting to strangle Whit.

Or wanting to kiss him. Again.

Cooper blows out a breath. “Ok, one night.”

It’s worth it, to see the grin spread over Drew’s face and how Penny punches both fists in the air. And even more so, the flex of Whit’s cheek as he tightens his jaw. Well, this is just the first of many annoyances Cooper can heap on Whit during this visit, ’cause he’s got the rest of the day now and maybe, if he works hard enough at it, he can get Whit’s eye to start twitching, too.

Chapter Two

Cooper leans against the kitchen counter, his cellphone pressed to his ear. He pictures the landline ringing in the tiny galley kitchen of the apartment he grew up in, the view of the neighboring building’s cement wall outside the window and the flicker of fluorescent lights. It’d be something if his mother answered the phone for once. Bothered to tear herself away from her computer. Let alone if she’d actually been planning to make it to dinner tonight instead of preferring the allure of yet another work meeting.

“Langdon residence,” he hears as the receiver’s picked up and of course that’s not Mom.

“Stepmother?” he asks.

“Stepson, hello,” Terry says and then louder, “Linda, Cooper’s on the phone!”

Don’t bother, he thinks. “I’m just calling to tell you I’m gonna stay at Drew’s tonight.”

“Never mind, Lin, it’s not Cooper, it’s someone offering a lower monthly car payment if I just give them our social security numbers, address, and bank info!”

“Too bad you barely even drive,” Cooper says.

“Shush, you. How’s Drew?”

“Yeah, good.” From the attic comes a clatter that sounds like lumber falling and then footfalls on the stairs in time with Drew’s cursing. “Less than good, maybe.”

“I hate the fucking attic,” Drew says as he jogs down the last steps. “I’m pretty sure the squirrels are running a rotation to make sure they maximize their daily damage.”

“Medium bad,” Cooper says. “Listen, I’ll text when I know I’m heading down your way, okay? I gotta fight some rodents before I’m done here.”

“The more you tell me about farming, the less I understand. Love you, Coop.”

“You too,” he says and taps his phone to end the call. “Drew?”

“Fucking fuck!” Drew shoves his fingers into his hair. “Was that your mom? Can I move in with her and forget cows exist, let alone this damn house?”