Page 2 of Cattle Stop

“Hi, sweet girl.” Once, her back leg would’ve started going as he scratched the tawny fur beneath her collar, though now he only gets a huff against the cuff of his sweatshirt, a gentle lick of a kiss, and her deep brown eyes turned up to him. Matching blonds, he’s said to her more than once. He bends down to press his cheek to the top of her head.

The door’s unlocked, like it always is. The swell of dry heat from the woodstove tells Cooper he missed a bigger welcoming committee by no longer than it takes a log to catch on the coals. He peers around, shoving a handful of hair behind his ear, but the room’s empty except for Sadie waddling toward her water bowl.

But even still and silent, the kitchen is the same as ever, the scent of woodsmoke and fresh bread, that perpetual note of hay from the chaff caught in the cuffs and hems of the jackets hanging on their hooks. As always, the boots are lined up against the wall. Whit’s, the largest pair, Drew’s in the middle, and then Penny’s shoes she wears for work as a bartender, the smallest.

There’s not really space for Cooper’s boots, so he kicks them off and nudges them toward the heat of the woodstove. At least they’ll be toasty when he leaves later that afternoon.

And then he lets out a happy, long breath. Back again and it feels oh so good.

The whiteboard hangs on the wall where it always has, Drew’s cheese-making schedule written in his scrawl, Penny’s bartending shifts at Murry’s in her far neater print, and Whit’s cursive of the cows’ due dates and hay deliveries. Apparently, it’s Penny’s night to cook and—perfect—Whit’s day off from his job here on the farm, which gives Cooper a couple hours to visit with Drew, and no dour and dreary Whit to bump into. Plus, if Cooper can finagle it, maybe some lunch.

“Drew?” he calls again as he makes his way into the living room and then up the steep, creaky stairs.

Drew’s room, the master bedroom, sits empty except for the laundry spilling out of the hamper and the unmade bed, a single pillow against the headboard and the sheets kicked back.

“Where you at, bud?” Cooper asks, but Drew’s socks don’t answer him.

Just down the hall, Penny’s door is half-ajar. Cooper taps his knuckles against it, waits, and pokes it open with one finger, but her room is as empty as Drew’s.

At the other end of the hallway, Whit’s door is closed and entirely too tempting.

He shouldn’t, but Cooper still eases the door open. Just curious where everyone’s gotten to, he thinks and peers inside. He takes a step in. And then another.

The room smells like Whit. Like the soap he uses and the smell of his skin. Just looking for Drew, Cooper thinks as he picks up one of the picture frames on top of the dresser of Whit and Penny, their heads tipped together and arms around each other’s shoulders. Cousins, Cooper had eventually learned, nearly a decade ago when he’d first met them when they were all teenagers, with their dark hair, dark eyes, and olive skin, and the same quirk to their mouths, Penny’s smile wider than Whit’s ever is. Cousins and best friends with Drew, and now that Drew’s uncle has moved to Florida and left the farm to him, roommates.

Jealous, Cooper’s caught himself thinking more than once. Penny and Whit tied together by their family, their parents and grandparents and Penny’s sisters living not that far away, and their trips back to Mexico to see cousins and aunts and uncles. And the two of them getting to live with Drew here at the farm, Whit working here each and every day, ending more often than not with long evenings gathered at Murry’s, hanging out together. Hell, the three of them got to go to high school together, too, while Cooper only got to visit upstate New York during the summers to see his grandparents, got dropped off here at the farm for a way to while away the time, and then it was back to Brooklyn for the school year. Then, like now, he just drops in to say hi, before he’s off again.

Whatever. If Cooper spent more time here, he’d have to see Whit and no fucking thanks. A visit to see his best bud, Drew, say hi to Penny, and then get the hell out of here sounds far, far better.

He puts the picture back down, trying to get it in the exact right spot. There’s no mark of dust to tell him where it precisely sat, though he’s sure Whit will somehow know Cooper’s been poking around.

But he’s just looking to see if anyone’s home, not snooping through the drawer of the nightstand between the two twin beds, checking out what Whit might keep there.

Though, he could.

No, he tells himself, even as he reaches for it.

From the hall, the stairs creak.

Cooper pulls in a breath and holds it, listening. That’s not the sound of Drew’s footsteps. Please, please, let it not be Whit.

“Cooper?”

“Penny? Oh, thank God.”

She pushes open the door and laughs as he picks her up, swinging her in a circle, her ponytail long enough to dance over his forearms. “Fuck you. You gave me a heart attack, but I thought that was your truck.”

“I thought you were out,” he says as he sets her back down.

“I was in the cheese room. And I thought you were up north, not breaking and entering.”

“Just finished up a winter job in Maine and next stop: Oregon. Figured I’d swing through before I head out west, say hi to my moms down in Brooklyn, and I could surprise Drew on the way.”

“By hiding in Whit’s room?”

Cooper slips past her into the hallway. “Well, I told Sadie I’d check in there just to make sure. Where is everyone?”

“Drew had to go to the hardware store for some Tyvek, and I got the dubious honor of giving him a hand flipping the Brie.” Penny flexes one arm, pointing to her bicep. “You’re welcome, cheese eaters of New York, ’cause I thought my wrist was going to fall off salting each and every one of those little bastards.”