Page 11 of While the Sun Shines

“Listen, my man, your cheese is flying off the shelves,” Brad says.

Yep, not a life Drew can understand, trading the farm for an office, but hell if it hasn’t been convenient for him and Two Pines Farm. “That’s great.” Drew brushes aside the eggshells Cooper left scattered over the counter until he can find the scrap of paper with Brad’s cheese order on it. “I’m in the middle of putting together your next shipment, nearly done.”

“Well, don’t send it down just yet. Can I double it?”

Drew lets out a weak laugh. “What?”

“I’m serious. We can’t keep your cheese in stock. We’re the only ones down here in the city who carry it, and let me tell you, cornering the market is doing us a favor.”

The only one, ’cause they were the only one to take a chance on Drew and his cheese last summer. Back when Cooper was beating the bushes to drum up sales, or Drew’s farm would’ve gone the way of Brad’s: empty of cows as the herd, equipment, and land got sold off.

“Yeah, no. No problem,” Drew says. Fuck, he thinks. Sheep, hay, making more cheese—whatever, he’ll figure out how to manage everything all at once. “I can get it to you quick, a couple days?”

“Perfect. Send it down with the delivery on Wednesday. We’ll be looking forward to it,” Brad says. “Hey—thank you.”

“No problem,” Drew says and hangs up.

Holy shit, what a huge-ass problem. He turns his shoulder to Cooper, Whit, and Penny still around the table. Bad timing, with the hay waiting to be cut. And—shit—Whit’s room.

No, it’ll be fine. He was going to have to juggle making cheese this week anyway. Though hell, of all the times for sales to take off…he rubs at his forehead. He’ll just…not sleep. Stay up all night in the cheese room.

“Gonna be fucking famous,” Cooper crows.

“What?” Drew asks. “No, we’re not.”

“Sure we are.” Cooper smacks the table. “Nobody around here can compete. Eyes on the prize, am I right?”

“We?” Penny asks. “Please, Coop.”

“Prize?” Drew rubs at his forehead. “What’re you talking about? It’s just cheese.”

“Cheese?” Cooper points a piece of bacon at Drew. “No, c’mon. What are you talking about, you stressed-looking lump of a farmer? I’m talking the big one. The battle.”

Shear bolts, Drew remembers. Oh hell, he’s got to get moving for the day. He can’t be hanging out in here, lingering over breakfast.

“Drew, are you even listening?” Cooper asks.

“Yeah, I am. Hey, Whit, what did you get for milking this morning? Brad wants more cheese.”

Which Drew’ll need to make by Tuesday, to be able to send it down on Wednesday, so that gives him today, tomorrow, Saturday, Sunday, and Monday to get it done.

Though of course, he can’t start most of the order until the weekend, or it won’t be fresh enough to sell. And he’s got the hay to take care of anyway. And fuck—the sheep, too.

“We got plenty. A bit more than yesterday,” Whit says. “You should be fine.”

“Cows this, cheese that.” Cooper smacks the table again. “I could not be talking about a more important topic here.”

“Let me guess, food?” Drew can figure this out, if Cooper would be quiet for half a second. Puzzle through where to send Whit and Cooper on their daily tasks so that everything works out. Think, he tells himself, but Cooper’s talking again.

“No, Miss Penny Morales, roommate and bartender extraordinaire.”

“Right,” Drew says. “What?”

“Battle of the Bartenders,” Cooper says. “Of course.”

Shear bolts—Drew fucking had them; they can’t have gone far. He picked them up at the co-op, put them in his pocket instead of wasting a plastic bag on such a small purchase, drove back here and…and apparently put them in the black hole that necessary farming equipment disappears into right when he needs it.

“The shop,” Drew mutters to himself. He must’ve put the bolts in there, thinking he was setting them in a spot where he could find them later.