11. DEAN
Chapter eleven
DEAN
GOSSIP GOATS AND GRUDGES
All the cabins are booked for the Spring Fair, and with Beaker Brother’s Ranch having a cow cuddle corner set up this year, we’re all out in the ranch before the sun rises, trying to get the work done before most of us head over to partake in the activities. Connor and Skye will be manning the cuddle corner, and Sally-May has been baking for three days to stock up her pie stall. She’ll be sold out in an hour or so I bet, if last year’s fair is anything to go by.
We bedded the barn yesterday, after all the rain we’ve had, we needed to bed both the floors and the stalls to make sure nobody slips when they come in or out. Perry is already running the wash and is hooking everything back up, ready to start milking a bit early today. I start on filling the cornmeal cart. Thankfully, the sky is clear and all reports say this week will be a nice warm sunny one. Perfect weather for the Spring Fair.
The cornmeal tank is right beside the barn, making it easy to collect. We jacked it up last year, welding on a new base that’s taller so we can get the cart right under it, saving a bunch of time in the mornings.
The tractor rumbles in behind me, and it’s Nial with the hay.
“Grab The Beast,” he calls over the noise, and I head over to the machine we use to spread the hay down, that we call The Beast, and press the start button. It sputters for a few seconds, then kicks into gear. The Beast holds one bale at a time and unrolls it as I wheel it back over the front of the stalls, dropping clumps all the way along. Nail follows behind, sweeping it towards where the girls will be popping their heads through once we let them in.
The beast is another great piece of machinery that saves us a bunch of time, like the tractor and the old dirt bikes Nial and Skye use to check the sections of the land we haven’t found use for yet. Gramps sold off an acre or two when he moved to Savannah, but Beaker Brothers has been here since the beginning of Bellerelleandhe made sure he held onto enough land that we could grow the ranch if it came to that. I’m not sure he envisioned a menagerie of odd animals, but he didn’t seem to mind the last time he visited.I should call Alan and check in,invite them up again.Maybe after his Banana Ball tour is over, he and the guys can all come up again.I’ll check the dates and block them out until I check with himwhattheir plansare.
Perry helps us get the girls all milked and released back out to the pasture, and then he and Nial head over to the Fair. Atlas will stay on the grounds; Loki is still a work in progress, and we expect a few guests might wander back early, and we wouldn’t want the ranch to have no one here they can call if they need something.
I’m a sweaty mess by the time we get everything done, so I head in for a shower while the guys take the cuddle crew over to the fair. Connor coined that name for them. Had shirts made and all that, too. I will also reluctantly be wearing one. Apparently, it shows I’m one of the team and not just the boss. I don’t see why I can’t be both and not wear a ridiculous shirt.
I throw on my green flannel over the top, leaving it unbuttoned, pull on my boots and my hat, and jump into the truck to follow them over. The fair is about twenty minutes from the ranch, and when I arrive, it’s in full swing.
Roasted corn, fresh bread, apples, cinnamon, and hay meld together on the breeze with all of Main Street filled with people, food, and wares stalls. The noise of conversations, barteringandlaughter becomes a sort of buzzingandthe hairs on my neck stand up. I normally hate places like this. Loud and busywhereeveryone is talking all at once. I find it hard to focus. To think. But we’ve got the cuddle corner set up, and I promised I’d make a show. Besides, I did put on the shirt, so I might as well get it over with.
The cuddle corner will be up the other end, so I make my way through the crowd to check in on them. When Connor first suggested we start offering cuddle sessions with the cows on the ranch, I thought he had been kicked in the head, but they really are just like big dogs in the way they love affection, and unlike with a dog, you can climb right up onto the back of a heifer laying on the hay and she’ll just lay there while you squeeze her as tight as you can.
The mini moos are less hearty, but they wriggle out of little hands when they need to, and Connor and Skye are great at keeping an eye on the cuddlers.
“Feel like something sweet?” Nate, the owner of Buxton Estate, calls, holding up something blue.
“What have you got there?” I ask, stepping closer to his stall and spotting the sign, Buxton’s Fresh Tarts . There are a few people taking photos with their phones, pulling shocked expressions with open mouths as they pretend to take a bite, then take ten more for good measure before they actually do eat it. I can’t blame themthough. The tart Nate’s holding out to me right now doesn’t look like any tart I’ve ever seen. It looks like he’s giving me a blue flower. Their entire table looks more like aflorist,it’s covered in little silver tart cases filled with what look like different colorful flowers.
“It’s a blueberry hydrangea,” Nate says, picking up a yellow flower tart from the table. “Really, it’s blueberry cheesecake piped to look like a hydrangea, and this yellow one is a citrus sunflower,againit’s actually cheesecake, a lemon-lime mix. Which would you prefer?” he asks.
I take the blueberry one, holding it gently in the palm of my hand. “These look amazing.”
“It’s all Rémy, he’s the genius chef. I’m just the pretty face selling them.”
Rémy turns from helping another customer at the other end of the table. “Oúi, oúi, I made them, but Chérie, you are more than a pretty face,” he says, stepping sideways and kissing Nate on the top of the head.
Nate played Banana Ball with my little brother Alan before he hurt his shoulder. He inheritedBuxtonEstate after his late uncle passed, and now he and his boyfriend, alsopartowner, Rémy, run it. They buy milk, cheese, yogurt, cream, butter, and eggs from our ranch, along with some products we hold on consignmentlikethegoats-milksoaps Sarah makes from our goats and some of the natural herbs growing in the garden Sally-May manages.
“How is the estate management business treating you?”
“It’s good. I’m finally getting the hang of how it all works. I took a few online courses to help me out. We’re fully booked this weekend with the fair. How about you guys?”
“Yeah, we’re maxed out on the ranch, too.”
“That’s great. So are you going to eat it? I swear it tastes even better than it looks.”
“You’re really hyping it up here,” I say with a chuckle before taking a bite. I don’t know why I expected the petals to be firm, but they’re soft as butter, and the sweet tang of blueberry explodes on mytastebuds. “Holy shit, that’s good.”
“See,toldyou,” Nate says, and I go to fish my wallet out, but he’s waving me away.
“I’ll come for a free cuddle later,” he says, and Rémy frowns my way. “The cows, a cow cuddle. I’m not hugging Dean.” He laughs, and I take another big bite of the delicious tart.
“Thanks,” I say and head back through the crowd as I eat. Sally-May catches me just as I’m popping the last of it into my mouth.
“That one of them there tarts the French Chef is selling?” she asks, craning her neck toward their stall.
“Yeah, blueberry hydrangea, Nate called it. Really good, but your pies are better,” I say, and I’m not lying. Not really. While the tart was incredible, Sally-May’s pies taste like home, and nothing will ever be better than that. She smiles.
“Good, good.”
I look over the table. She’s already sold more than half of what she cooked up.
“Is there no cherry left?” I ask, and she shakes her head.
“But don’t you be worrying, I saved you a cherry pie at home. We’ll have it for dessert tonight.”
“Thanks, Sally-May.”
“STOP THAT GOAT!” a girl calls, and a second later, I spot the white and tan fur of something hardly bigger than a rat slip between the legs of three people before I scoop him up. What kind of goat is this? He’s tiny, my fingers nearly meeting around his middle as I pull him to my chest to try to calm his cries.
The crowd parts a little, and the girl comes running through. I recognized her right away. It’s Isabel’s daughter. Preston’s daughter. Poppy.
“Thank you,” she says, holding out her hands for the baby goat.
“This little guy wasn’t from the cuddle corner, so, where are you two coming from, darlin’?” I askholdingthe tiny goat to my chest. He wriggles a little, then rests his head on my shoulder.
“He escaped from the adoption stall. Preston didn’t tell me goats can jump that high.”
“Goats are clever things, almost as clever as cheeky lamas.”
“You run the farm with Chewie, don’t you?” she asks, and I nod and we start walking over the direction she came.
“Sure do. I’ve seen you with your mom cuddling the cows. Are you here with your mom today?” I ask as she follows along beside me towards Preston’s stall.
“Nope. I’m helping Preston today. He’s got lots of animals that need adopting. You want some more for your ranch?” she asks, and we step up to the small fence surrounding the adoption stall.
“Mr. Beaker has already kindly offered to take in any of these guys we don’t find homes for today,” Preston says as he helps her climb over the small fence surrounding the animals. He looks up at me, and his gaze moves to my chest.
“Is that shirt an invitation?” he asks.
“Huh? Oh, umm… No. You see, it’s for the cuddle corner. I mean, all the guys are wearing them.”
“I kind of figured, well, it looks like your new friend likes it, too,” he says, nodding to the baby goat. “The little thing’s gone right to sleep on you there.”
“He’s too young to be adopted out, isn’t he?” I ask, the goat’s backside resting against my palm easily.
“He’s a Nigerian dwarf brought in by one of the vets a few towns over.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, a surrender from some city guy who thought a Pygmy goat would make a great birthday gift for his girlfriend. Lasted all of a day before it ate one of her shoesandhe handed the fella in. Are you interested?”
“We’ve got some mini highlands, and the baby goats are always a fan favorite. Let me see if Connor is up for a new addition,” I say, and he chuckles.
“I’ll start the paperwork.”
I just smile and nod, then head over to the cuddle corner. Connor coos like he’s just spotted an adorable baby when he sees the kid on my shoulder.
“I thought I spotted a baby goat over there with Preston,” he says, opening the gate for me to pass through.
“Do you want him?”
“For real?”
“You love the minis; this guy’s a Nigerian dwarf.”
“Seriously, a Pygmy?”
“That’s what Doc says.”
“Hell yes, I want him.”
He reaches out to take the baby goat from my shoulder, and the second he touches him, the thing starts screaming and buryinghishead into the crease of my neck.
“How about you hold on to him for a while?”
“I can’t walk around the fair with a baby goat on my shoulder.”
“Sure you can.”
I try to remove him to pass him over again, but the thing just screams louder, and even though he’s small, this scream is as loud as the goats’ back on the ranch when they get going. I give in, leave him where he is, and make my way back over to Preston’s stall.
“So, Doc. It looks like this guy has a new home,” I say, and Preston hands over the completed paperwork.
“Knew Connor would want him. I’m surprised he didn’t take him right away, though.”
“Yeah, he wanted to, but he cried.”
“Connor cried?”
“No, the baby goat did.”
“He probably likes the way you smell,” Preston says, and I catch the slightest blush rise to his cheeks before he turns away and fiddles with some papers on the small table behind him.
Since we decided to be friends, even though seeing him still has my stomach doing cartwheels, I can get out full sentences without sounding like I was just kicked in the head by a farm animal.
“I guess. I probably smell like the ranch. It would be familiar to him.”
“Maybe,” Preston says before he’s suddenly on edge. He crouches in front of Poppy. “Hide the bunnies,” he whispers, and she looks past him, and I follow her gaze to see the murder twins on their way over with their grandma, Agnes Fields. A woman who has never once been known to say no to those Collins boys since they learned to ask for things.
Poppy starts corralling the bunnies into a covered section. It’s noteasy,they’re fast and good at jumping over her small hands.
I step over to the vegetable stall beside Preston’s. “I’ll pay for these in a second,” I say to the kid behind the stall as I grab a bunch of mini carrots and toss them over to Poppy. With a treat in hand, she manages to get the last of them into the covered part, she tosses in the carrotsandthen blocks the opening with an upside-down bucket that she sits on.
“All clear,” she calls to Preston just as they arrive.
The boys climb over the small fence in a rush of energy and start petting the puppies, all the while looking over into the other sections to see what they have on offer.
Their grandmother glaresmy way. I shouldn’t be surprised. It’s not like the woman has ever liked me or my brothers. But she holds a particular disdain for Alan and me, seeing as we’re guys who like screwing guys.
I throw her a thin smile and then focus my attention on Poppy.
“Have you been over to the cuddle corner yet today?” I ask, and she shakes her head.
“No time. Preston needs me here,” she says.
“If you want to go check it out, I can help here for a while?”I ask, and she jumps up from the bucket, then quickly sits again when it starts to move as the bunnies being held captive,for their own safety,tryto escape.
“Preston, can I go cuddle the cows for a bit? Mr. Beaker said he’d stay to help you. Please?” she asks, folding her hands in prayer in front of her and batting her long lashes up at him. I swear I see the exact moment he melts.
“Sure, whatever you like, but ring your mom first so she knows where you’re going,” he says, handing over a phone.
“I’ll sit there,” I say and she stands, and I quickly hold the bucket down with my free hand, then sit to keep the bunnies safe.
“I’d be wary of sending any animals home with this one,” Agnes only half whispers into Preston’s ear, and he rolls his eyes.
Christ, are we really doing this again?
“Why would that be?” Preston asks.
“You know he ain’t natural what he is.”
“He was born on the Beaker ranch,notsure how much more of a natural rancher you can get,” Preston replies with a wink my way. A monarch takes flight inside my gut.
“You know what I mean,” she says. “I’m glad you came to your senses and picked things back up with Isabel. You two were so perfect for each other,” she coos.
Now my stomach is all fire, and I bet my face is, too.
“There ain’t nothing going on with Isabel and me. Just because we have Poppy, doesn’t mean we’re getting back together,” Preston snaps, and a part of me jumps up in celebration. The physical me doesn’t. Because we’ve got bunnies to protect.
“But you were so sweet,” she continues, and in my mind, I’m screaming, ‘he was fucking extra sweet with his hand wrapped around my cock you fucking bitch,’ but I don’t. The baby goat on my shoulder nuzzles in and lets out a soft whine, sending a shiverthroughme.
“Thanks, little buddy,” I whisper. The distraction is enough to start to settle my raging heart.
“I thought you knew, Mrs. Fields. I’m gay,” he says matter-of-factly, and she shakes her head, stammering something under her breath as she grabs the murder twins’ hands and pulls them toward the fence.
“They haven’t got any bunnies. Come on, let’s go get ice cream,” she says as they protest leaving the puppy section behind.
“How about you boys cuddle a baby highland. We’re set up right next to the ice cream stand,” I call, and the murder twins slip her grasp and run in that direction. She shoots me a final glare and heads after them.
“Sorry about that,” Preston says.
“Why are you sorry? I should be saying sorry to you; she wouldn’t have started if Iwasn’tsitting here.”
“Oh, I’m sure she’s off saying the same sort of thing about me now. Why she thought Isabel and I were getting back together is beyond my reasoning.”
“I guess because you used to be together, and you have a kid together, and…you did love her.”
“I did, but it was young love, first love, not…”
“Forever love.”
“Yeah.”
I let the bunnies out and fish a five-dollar note out of my side pocket and hand it to the kid running the vegetable stall.
“We get people like that back home,” the kid says. “Momma tells me I shouldn’t let it bother me ’cause they’re mostly old folk who say shit like that, but that ain’t no excuse. My gramps is eighty-seven, and he doesn’t care who I bring home to meet him as long as they bring pie.”
I chuckle. “Sounds like your gramps is one of the good ones, and if you’re after good pie, Sally-May’s got you covered.”
“He’s alright. You are, too, Mr. Beaker. Momma always said so. The Beakers look after people.”
“Animals, too,” Preston chimes in. “Beakers are the best kind of people.”
“Doc’s just saying that ’cause I said I’d take this here mini goat off his hands.”
“No, I’m not,” he smiles, and thank god, Poppy chose that moment to return from cuddling cows because if I kept staring at that smile of his for too much longer, I’d have a tough time convincing him I was good just being friends. But a friend is what he needs right now, and so that’s what I’ll be.
“Preston, they have a mini cow in the cuddle cover almost as small as the mini goat, can I have it please?”
Preston raises his brows in a way that tells me he wants to say no, but he’s so, so close to saying yes. I can’t let him give in.
“Sorry little darlin, but my mini’s are not for sale. But you can come over and cuddle them whenever you like.”
She shrugs and runs off again.
“Thanks for that,” Preston says, relief spreading across his face.
“No worries, Doc. I’ve got our back.”