Page 4 of Cattle Stop

“If you touch the plaster in there, it just”—Penny wiggles her fingers and makes a fizzing noise—“crumbles. It’s kind of cool, actually.”

Drew grabs a knife and an apple and brings them to the table too. “Very cool, complete with the fact that we’re being harassed by a team of squirrels intent on tearing down my damn house.”

“So, it was a great winter, then.” Cooper pops a piece of cheddar in his mouth and closes his eyes as he chews. There’s a lot of cheese in the world, but none like Drew’s. Fucking brilliant idea, back over summers during high school when Drew had first been messing around with the idea of trying his hand at mozzarella and ricotta. Then, Cooper had just enjoyed it as a snack after an afternoon helping around the farm, and now, it’s an entire business.

“I think we should just hire the squirrels to fix the house,” Penny says, slipping into the chair next to Drew. “Trade them acorns, make peace in the neighborhood, put this entire disaster behind us.”

“They’d probably do a better job than I would.” Drew slices the apple with a whack of the knife. “Or maybe at least they can give Whit a hand with the damn cows so I can make some progress on the house.”

Cooper grins and reaches for a slice of apple. “You didn’t hear it from me, but I would bet the squirrels would be better at farming than Whit is.”

“Whit, our esteemed farm manager, you mean?” Penny points a piece of apple at Cooper. “Drew has him running the farm this year, you know.”

“Yeah, I gotta focus on this damn house. I asked him to pretty much take over the cows,” Drew says.

“The poor cows,” Cooper says.

“He’s helping with sales too,” Drew says.

“Poor customers,” Cooper says.

“Oh my God, the two of you,” Penny says. “Whit’s not even here, and already you and him are going at it.”

“I’m just here to say hi, eat cheese, and give a true and honest assessment of Mr. Whit Morales’s skills.”

“Of course you are. But look, I really think I’m on to something here. I’ve got work at the bar, Drew has, you know, cheese stress, which leaves only Whit to get the farm ready for the spring, so what I’m thinking is an entire army of squirrels helping him. Like maybe a rehabilitation program for them, give them a satisfying goal to work toward so they stop trying to take apart the house.”

“I like this idea,” Cooper says. “Can they give Whit a performance review, too? I’ll set them up with little squirrel-sized clipboards and a checklist.”

A chill gust of cold air slices across Cooper’s back, followed by the echo of heavy footsteps.

Oh.

Fucking great.

He twists in his chair and there’s Whit in the doorway, pressing the door closed with a broad palm to seal it against the frame.

Cooper tugs at his sweatshirt. The grease stains worn into the gray fabric and the raggedness of the hem seem suddenly more obvious. That and the fact he hasn’t shaved in a couple days or gotten a haircut in much longer. It’s like Whit can somehow tell Cooper’s socks don’t match through the mud-splattered cuffs of his jeans, despite his feet being tucked beneath the table. Fucking hell, he’d been so sure he’d be able to get in, see Drew, and avoid Whit’s cool appraisal.

Cooper curls his toes. “Hey.”

Yeah, that was casual and easy, and like he doesn’t even give the tiniest of shits. He still can’t believe he liked Whit. Had that burning, awful crush on him, back when they were teenagers and Whit seemed so damn cool.

Has, his brain supplies, and Cooper frowns and grabs a piece of apple.

Had, he thinks firmly and sets a slice of cheddar on top.

The cheese slides off and falls to the table.

“What checklist?” Whit asks.

Cooper doesn’t have to look to know Whit’s hanging his coat neatly on the far left hook, like he always does. Cooper should’ve shucked off his own sweatshirt and hung it there, just to mess with him.

“Cooper’s here,” Drew says. “He came to bear witness to the last day this house is standing before the squirrels come back armed with screw guns and crowbars.”

Cooper picks up the slice of cheese and sets it back on the apple. It falls again, and he sighs. “Thought you were out.”

“I came back,” Whit says. “Hi.”