Page 49 of Cattle Stop

Cooper’s closer to the farm truck, and it’s only a handful of steps to beat Whit there. Go with Drew, he silently pleads, though Whit’s footsteps follow him.

“They went into the woods past Caroline’s fields.” Whit slips into the passenger seat and Cooper can smell his skin, the sweat from his run. It takes Cooper two tries to fit the key in the ignition.

He looks over his shoulder to back the truck up, even though he hardly needs to. He’s been reversing this truck out of this barnyard since before he was old enough to legally drive, but it keeps him from staring at that bead of sweat rolling down Whit’s neck.

“You forget to shut their damn gate?” Cooper asks.

Is this what he’s going to be like anytime he’s around Whit from now on? Trying not to stare at Whit’s hands out of the corners of his eyes, strong and broad, with veins running down the back and his skin the deep brown of summer? Anyone else and it’d be just another morning. Hell, anyone else, and Cooper would reach right over there and lay his hand on the muscles cording Whit’s thigh, feeling up sweaty shorts and warm skin.

“You were there yesterday, it was shut,” Whit says.

“I just know what a fan you are of gates.”

“And this isn’t possibly because of your cattle guards?”

Cattle stops, Cooper thinks a beat too late. He presses his lips tight. You were there too, he could snap back. Or something better, more heated. And witty. Though, there’s just the headache and now the heat of embarrassment flushing through him where those words should be. Of course, Whit can be as normal as he ever is. It was just a quick fuck for him. It’s Cooper who fell into an awful crush all those years ago, and here it is, rearing its ugly head and rising through him again today, fumbling his words and setting his heart pounding.

Whit clears his throat. “Sorry.”

“Huh?”

“I’m sure it was the storm.” Whit stares out the window, his cheek turned so that Cooper can’t see more of his face.

“Oh.” He’d kissed Whit, right on that mouth of his. “Okay.”

Whit points toward the side of the road, and sure enough, muddy hoofprints line the way down to Caroline’s land. Cooper parks the truck and follows Whit until the tracks duck into the woods. Cooper breaks into a slow jog, pushing aside tree branches and wading into the trees.

“C’mon, girls,” he shouts. But it never does work to call for the herd, unless he’s got a bucket of grain to shake and rattle, enticing them away from their adventure and the snacks they’ve found for themselves.

Behind him, Whit’s not even out of breath, though where mud falls in clumps from Cooper’s boots, it works into the mesh of Whit’s running shoes. Whit must be cold, with sweat dampening his shirt and now the coolness of the forest, all bare legs and arms.

No, Cooper can’t even begin to handle that sight. Of all times, now is when he most needs to be irritated with Whit, not mooning over his pecs. He needs that old, familiar barrier of annoyance between them, built of all the reasons Cooper shouldn’t ever really, actually like him.

“Any other sign of them?” Cooper walks quickly to try to leave Whit behind him. “For fuck’s sake, where the hell are they?”

“They’re cows, they can’t have gone far.”

Argumentative, Cooper thinks. That’s reason one.

“All it takes is one hungry coyote,” Cooper says.

“Well, we’ll make sure to tell them that next time.”

That acerbic dryness to Whit’s tone. How quickly he dismisses Cooper. Be more of a dick, help me out here, he thinks.

“Why don’t you just ask them to stay put, if you’re going to go talking to them?” Cooper asks, squinting into the forest so he doesn’t have to look over at Whit. “I’ll check over there.”

“Come with me,” Whit says.

Bossy as fuck, Cooper adds to his list. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Come with me, let’s go together. It’ll be easier if we do find them.”

Cooper can’t stop staring at Whit’s mouth. It was so soft last night. And he knows how to use it too. Cooper turns back to the patch of woods in front of him and stares at it as hard as he can. “Is that a good idea?”

“I wouldn’t have suggested it if it wasn’t.”

Too sure of himself. Can’t take input. Hates all of my plans. Cooper presses his lips together. Some time apart might settle the blush he’s sure is still sitting on his cheeks. Though dammit, Whit’s not wrong. One of them versus a herd of cows isn’t exactly a recipe for success.