Page 84 of Cattle Stop

“You already said that.”

“I just meant—” Whit shakes his head, his nose tickling through Cooper’s hair.

Cooper shifts, trying to stretch out his legs, but Whit’s knees are tucked behind his own. This bed isn’t big enough for both of them. Though maybe he’s finally getting used to it, because he finds an empty spot for his foot, draping his ankle over Whit’s and wiggling the pillow a couple inches closer.

“Meant what?” Cooper finally asks, watching the shadows lengthen, the sharp relief of the shape of leaves shifting against the walls in the moonlight.

Whit jerks a little, like he was sleeping. “Just that you deserve better.”

Cooper huffs out a breath. There’s a retort to be had if he can just find it. Something about his mom, or maybe a steady job for himself, or maybe about Whit and this summer of eager, secret fucking. But it’s slow to come, and by the time he’s dredged up words to shoot back, Whit’s breath has evened out again. There’ve been enough nights to know the rhythm of that puff of air against his shoulder when Whit sleeps, the laxness of his hand against Cooper’s stomach and the heaviness of his arm.

Cooper has half a mind to kick Whit in the shin again. We didn’t even fuck, he could say, so what the hell is this, spooned up together with our clothes still on? Whit murmurs something and tightens his hold on Cooper’s waist before he relaxes again.

It’s like something out of his high school fantasies, to be held all night by Whit. And fucking hell, it feels so good it hurts.

Be happy for what you do get, Cooper tells himself and presses back into the warm, strong line of Whit’s body. Hasn’t he told himself that for years now? Yeah, for far too long, ever since he was a kid and waited, held his breath, hoped and hoped that the clatter of typing would stop long enough for blankets to be pulled up to his chin, a soft kiss pressed to his forehead.

Fuck, he thinks and turns in the circle of Whit’s arm, presses his face into that broad, strong chest, and curls up there, his eyes too hot and his throat sore.

Chapter Fifteen

The sun shines too bright into Cooper’s eyes and he squints, tucking his face into Whit’s neck. Whit slowly stirs, his palm pressing to the small of Cooper’s back, brushing his shirt up and aside to touch Cooper’s skin.

Milking, Cooper thinks, but he stays right where he is, nudging his knee between Whit’s legs and snuggling a little further into his body. He could just stay like this, ignore everything outside of this too-small twin bed, and doze like they have all morning to wallow in the warm sunshine.

Apparently, Whit could too, his arm tightening around Cooper. Oh, this is so nice. So, so fucking nice. Waking up like this, to warm skin and Whit’s hands on him, his arm still across Cooper’s waist, like he held him there all night. Perfect, Cooper thinks and nestles into Whit’s neck.

A knock sounds at the door.

Whit jerks and sits up so quickly that it pushes Cooper nearly off the narrow mattress. He scrambles, floundering at the empty air behind him, trying to find his feet before Whit can finish shoving him away.

The door creaks open and Drew calls, “Whit?”

Cooper gets a foot on the floor before he ends up on his ass, yanking his shirt down, shoving his hair off of his face, and jerking his boxers up.

“Hey, you awake?” Drew asks.

Whit pulls Cooper’s sheets over his lap. “Yeah, guess I am.”

“Sorry, your day off, I forgot.” Drew crosses his arms over his chest, already dressed for work in his jeans and T-shirt. He glances at Cooper as if surprised to find him there.

Right. The cows. Farming. Not lying in bed, cuddled up and drowsy.

Well, another way of things between Cooper and Whit, and Cooper would be shoving Drew back into the hall, ready to give him hell about interrupting what would’ve otherwise been quite an enjoyable morning. Instead, Whit’s clearly mortified to have been nearly caught curled up with Cooper like that, carefully not meeting his eyes. And it’s fucking embarrassing for Cooper too, bodily shoved out of bed. He shuffles through his pile of clothes, trying to ignore the blush sitting on his face and the small, sick slick of hurt at how quickly Whit’s smoothing out the bedsheets.

Drew coughs into his fist. “Just wanted to talk.”

“Yeah.” Whit gets to his feet and reaches for his jeans. He must’ve kicked them off sometime in the night, and Cooper pushes them closer with the side of his foot. “Yeah, no, I’m sorry. I should’ve told you about my parents, you were right.”

“Yeah, you should’ve,” Drew says and casts another look at Cooper.

Cooper busies himself sorting through his pairs of pants. There’s a reason to keep clothes in a dresser and not on the floor, though it’s not like Cooper even has an option.

“Your folks okay?” Drew asks. “Your dad?”

Whit shrugs, pulling his pants up to his waist and zipping his fly. “They’re doing fine, Dad’s healthy, and a smaller place is working out for them. Besides, now they don’t have to deal with another winter in their own house.”

Drew puts on a small smile. “Yeah, otherwise face the wrath of squirrels.”