Page 103 of Cattle Stop

But before Cooper can even climb up the porch steps, the door to the farmhouse swings open and Whit comes out.

“Hey,” Cooper says.

“Hey,” Whit says.

Cooper’s stomach flutters, though it’s been doing that all damn day. Whit’s steps crunch across the ice and gravel, and Cooper lifts his face for a kiss—which is too short. And it’s too cold out here, but Cooper pulls a hand out of his pocket anyway, touching a fallen snowflake caught on the curl of hair over Whit’s forehead.

“There was bad traffic,” Cooper says. “The roads are a mess. Sorry I’m late.”

“And I’m sure you’re starving.”

“I’m absolutely starving.”

Whit kisses Cooper’s palm and Cooper’s stomach flips over. Whit’s voice is so much better in person than on the phone. Deep and rich and smooth.

“Drew’s making dinner,” Whit says.

“Good,” Cooper says but doesn’t move toward the door, just lifts his arms to tuck around Whit’s shoulders and kisses him again, slower this time. More thorough, just like he’s been waiting for. Cooper tightens his hold as Whit kisses him back. It’s nearly embarrassing, how that kiss zips straight through Cooper.

I love you, he thinks and presses closer and kisses Whit again and says, “I love you.”

“Good,” Whit says and pulls back. He’s hiding a smile, and Whit never smiles.

“Good?” Cooper tucks his fingers down into Whit’s collar, his shirt soft and his skin warm. “That’s it? Good?”

“I’m glad you’re here.”

“With that welcome, I should’ve just given you a handshake.”

It’s been too damn long. Cooper used to go months without seeing Whit. Without talking to him, driving all the way to town for cell service and staying late enough he had to make his way back to his cabin in the dark. Cooper kisses Whit again, softly this time.

“That’s not how you shake hands,” Whit murmurs, his lips moving against Cooper’s.

“Say, ‘I love you too, Cooper.’”

That’s a smile against Cooper’s lips. A real one. Small and gentle and so sweet.

“I love you too, Cooper,” Whit obediently echoes back.

“Hmm, perfect. Again, please.” He’s smiling too, he knows, and his stomach’s still flip-flopping over itself. It hasn’t stopped, has it? No, Cooper’s been a twisted tangle of happy, flushed excitement for so long now.

Whit takes Cooper’s bag from him, setting the strap over his own shoulder, and Cooper follows Whit into the house where Drew is standing near the woodstove, grinning, and Sadie is lounging. For months, Whit claimed that Sadie perked up every time Cooper called. All he gets from Sadie now, stamping snow from his boots as he follows Whit inside, is a yawn and a thump of her tail as she rolls over on her back, her short legs sticking up.

“Sweetie,” Cooper murmurs, scratching over her stomach. The fur on her side closest to the woodstove is warm from the heat. “Nobody else knows how to give belly rubs, do they?”

“I like to think I’ve managed all right,” Whit says.

“There’s a technique.” Cooper scratches up between her front paws and down her sides. “Whit doesn’t know, does he? No, he doesn’t.”

“Hi,” Drew calls loudly.

“Hi,” Cooper says without looking up.

Sadie snuffles into his wrist when he rubs the top of her head, her ears falling this way and that, and her mouth opening in another slow yawn.

“Welcome back, good to have you, hello to me too, your best friend, I’m Drew, since apparently you don’t remember.”

When Cooper stands up, Drew lifts him off his feet in a hug, squeezing until Cooper coughs, and only then setting him down again. Behind Drew, Whit’s still holding Cooper’s bag. Cooper’s chest fills up warm and tight and he smacks Drew on the back.