Page 41 of While the Sun Shines

“And up next,” Cooper says, “we got ourselves some lemonade, so let’s muddle some mint. What should we put in it, rum? See, I’m getting the hang of this.”

“Vodka,” Penny says.

Drew looks near her. Not at her, her shoulders tight and her back to him, but close enough that he can watch as she picks up a glass bottle, pours a shot, and tosses it back in one smooth motion, pressing the back of her wrist to her mouth as she swallows.

“Vodka,” Cooper says, taking the bottle from her. “One Cooper special coming right up for our favorite farmer.”

“Give me another,” Penny says, holding out her shot glass and downing her second as quick as the first.

Drew slumps into a chair. He should take his boots off, but he just stares down at them, the scuffed leather and old frayed laces.

“I can call around some of the other farms in the area, see if anyone’s got a shear bolt,” Whit says.

Drew rests his forehead in his hand. “We’re the only idiots using the model baler we have.” I have, he thinks.

Cooper had wanted to get a bigger baler to make round bales, tried to talk Drew into it all spring. And Whit had just shrugged and nodded when Drew had said no.

“I can give it a try, at least,” Whit says. “We can bale tonight, even if we have to do it with flashlights.”

“The dew, though,” Drew says. “It’ll be too wet.”

And tomorrow it’ll be too dry. Fucking Goldilocks, he’d say with a laugh if he could muster up even a fraction of the energy.

“Drink this,” Cooper says, pushing a glass in front of Drew.

He shouldn’t. He hasn’t eaten. Not lunch, not dinner, not even a snack.

Penny picks up one of the glasses of cocktails they’d already made, stirs it, and takes a long drink.

Fuck it, Drew thinks and does the same, tipping the glass up until he’s left with just the trickle of liquid caught in the nest of ice.

“Let’s do something fun, if we’re not going to be stacking hay all night,” Cooper says. “How about a fire? S’mores?”

Drew grabs the Long Island iced tea and swallows half of it. He prefers beer normally, but the head rush of the cocktail is welcome tonight. Food, he thinks, but just takes another gulp, draining the glass down to half full.

“Or, wait.” Cooper pounds his hands on the counter in a drumroll. “Know what we haven’t done yet this year? Swimming.”

“I should work,” Drew mumbles.

“Yeah, Drew’s gotta work,” Penny says, and Drew pulls his head up.

But she’s not looking at him, just tipping up her own glass as she swallows.

“Well, we can go swimming,” Cooper says. “And Drew, we’ll just drag you with us.”

“Cooper, no,” Drew says.

“Cooper, yes,” Cooper says.

“If we’re not baling, then I need to make cheese.”

“Swimming.”

“Or work on Whit’s room.”

“Swimming, swimming, swimming.”

“Cooper’s right,” Whit says and Drew frowns at him. Behind Whit, Cooper pumps an arm and mouths victory. “That actually sounds like fun.”