Page 32 of Cattle Stop

“Whit Morales. I’m his supervisor.”

Cooper grabs for the phone, though Whit just turns slightly, and fucking hell, Cooper can’t reach around him, not with the handful of inches Whit has on him.

“Oh, he’s worked for me for—what is it?—nine or ten years now, off and on.”

“Whit,” Cooper whispers loudly. “Fucking stop.”

“Yep, Two Pines, a dairy farm in upstate New York. He’s been a real help totally reconfiguring our fencing system.”

Reconfiguring. Fucking shit, this is a nightmare. Cooper tries to grab for his phone again.

“Real good with animals,” Whit says and just steps away from Cooper. His shirt’s damp when Cooper grabs a handful of it, and he lets go quickly. “Punctual? Hmm.”

Whit looks like he’s about to start laughing. Which, oh great, the one time Whit decides to have some fun, it’s to agonize Cooper. Of fucking course.

“Yeah, he knows how to be on time.”

Knows how to be on time isn’t at all the same as actually being on time. Which, fuck. Which Whit’s right about, but he doesn’t need to actually say that.

Drew should be talking to Cheryl. Or Cooper’s boss from this winter up in Maine, or any of the last dozen jobs he’s had. Not fucking Whit. Cooper reaches for the phone again, but Whit just puts a hand in the middle of his chest and easily, casually, holds Cooper at bay.

Which…yeah, that feels good. Really good.

“Well, he’s always full of new ideas,” Whit says and Cooper groans, his eyes closing. That’s a deep, coursing note of sarcasm in Whit’s voice. Maybe Cheryl can’t hear it, but Cooper sure as shit can. Dammit, he’s apparently wrong about Whit being able to have a good time, and this is how he fucking finds out.

“Very handy, real good with a wrench.”

Fuck you, Cooper mouths, leaning into Whit’s hand, though it doesn’t budge.

“Hard worker? Well, he was out working most of yesterday evening, after we all quit for the day,” Whit says and throws Cooper a look. Ah, still pissed about the cattle stops. Well, at least that hasn’t changed. “Sure. Let me know if you have questions, yep, goodbye.”

When Whit hangs up, he sets Cooper’s phone next to the cheese grater and finally drops his hand.

“Whit.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Fucking hell.”

“She seems nice.”

“Whit.” Cooper groans, digging his fingers into his eyes.

“Say ‘Thank you, Whit.’”

“Fuck you, Whit.” Cooper drags his hands down his face. “You are not my supervisor.”

“Oh, good to know. I’ll call her back and tell her to ignore all that.”

“I can’t tell if that’s the nicest you’ve ever been to me, or if you just lost me any chance at that job.”

“I should’ve told her about the spigot. You’re so close to fixing it by just swearing at it every morning.”

“Is this revenge for getting the damn gates finished?” Cooper jams his phone into his pocket and grabs for the ball of mozzarella, though there’s so little left, he just tosses it to Sadie. “Why didn’t you just tell her what you told me last night? That no matter what I do around here, it’s not going to make a lick of difference?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You did, you said that—”