Page 59 of Cattle Stop

Whit half turns from the computer screen he’s tapping at, looking over his shoulder at them.

“Brad?” Cooper asks. “Yeah, I was talking to him about selling some.”

“I’m Elaina, Brad’s boss at the market, and we definitely want to place an order. I was going to tell Brad to give you a call, but you’re here now.”

“That’s great,” Cooper says. Behind Elaina, her date counts out money onto the receipt Whit just handed him. “Um, I can—what in particular were you thinking?”

Whit picks up the handful of bills, then tosses a pen and a pad of paper to Cooper.

“Mozzarella, for sure,” Elaina says.

“Yeah, absolutely, and we’ll have even more soon.” Cooper writes mozzarella, then pauses, his pen hovering over the paper.

“The end of the week,” Whit says.

“Yeah, the end of the week. You want to just try some? A couple pounds?” Or no, Cooper should suggest a bigger order. Oh hell, this is not his strength. Fencing. He’s good at fencing, not actually selling cheese.

“We can get you a full batch of it,” Whit says, rubbing the cloth along the counter beneath the beer taps.

Cooper nods quickly. “Right, and we can get some ricotta to you quick.”

“And some cheddar,” Whit says.

“And the cheddar.” Cooper nods again. “The next round of Brie is nearly ready too, and the Camembert is, um—”

“Ready next week,” Whit says.

“Ready next week,” Cooper echoes.

“What’s your discount for wholesale orders look like? Any room to maneuver in there?” Elaina asks.

“Yeah, uh.” Cooper holds the pen just poised above the paper, like it’ll let him know what numbers to write down. He sucks his cheek between his molars. Wholesale discounts. Right. He can…he can figure that out. Quickly. Now. He can figure it out now. Math, he thinks desperately and touches the pen to the paper.

“In general,” Whit says, “we do fifteen percent, though we could do eighteen if you can commit for the rest of the season.” Whit’s just pulling that out of his ass, Cooper knows, though hell, if he doesn’t sound downright confident. “Twenty, if you pick it up from the farm.”

Elaina looks over at Whit, brushing her hair back from her shoulder. “And you are?”

“He’s my coworker,” Cooper says.

Whit holds out his good hand to shake hers. “I’m the farm manager.”

“Co-farm manager,” Cooper says.

“Cooper’s my assistant,” Whit says.

“Well now, that’s just a lie.” Cooper holds out his own hand too for a handshake. “He works for me, actually.”

“Call me.” Elaina looks between them. “Somebody, call me.”

“I will,” Cooper says.

“Tomorrow morning,” Whit says. “I’ll be in touch.”

“Absolutely,” Cooper says, and when she leaves, her date in tow, Cooper throws the pen at Whit, smacking him square in the chest. “Asshole.”

Whit neatly catches the pen on the rebound. “How’re the notes you took?” he asks.

“How clean is that counter? You gonna keep wiping it until you’ve rubbed a hole straight through to your feet?”