Chapter 21
The ladder creaks under my weight as I try to find a comfortable way to stand.
I don't let that deter me and stretch out as far as I can to tuck the end of the towel into the small cranny where the metal frame meets the wood, so it finally obscures the window.
At least from my point of view, it does.
“No, no, farther over!”
“You said that three times now, Dad. The window ends here,” I call back, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. There are only a few windows in this barn, and yet covering them up has taken me an hour because of his constant commentary.
“I can still see out,” Dad says as I climb down.
"Doesn't matter if you see out; matters that the lights won't get in!” I point out but continue so he can't call me out for my cheeky back talk, already picking up the ladder. “I'll double-check.”
“Gonna round them up in the meantime,” Dad announces. He whistles for Oak and starts making his way over to the pasture.
I shake my head with a sigh. Herding the cows into the barn was literally the next thing I was going to do, but of course, my stubborn old man couldn't help but take over.
Though honestly, I get it. Gently nudging the cows back inside is my favorite part of work, too.
It's the best time to sneak some pets and pass them some treats.
Back up on the ladder, I reach for the corner of the fabric that I fastened to the other side of the window, tug it through the crack, and wedge it around the frame more tightly.
I’m giving my work another thorough once-over when my dad's voice draws my attention to the pasture.
“Watch out, boy, those little shits get uppity.”
I squint over, grinning when I spot Micah leaning as far over the fence as he can to scratch the noses of the calves. They are eagerly turning their heads this way and that to curl their long tongues around his fingers and wrists, clearly more interested in licking the salt off his skin.
“Since you're already here, you can help herd them inside.” Dad has reached Micah, pointing out where to direct the calves.
Oak stops next to my dad for a pat, taking in the situation by tilting his head from one side to the other. Then he trots off along the fence toward the back of the pasture, probably to look for stragglers.
“Ah, already? Thought they headed inside themselves?” Micah’s question floats over as I climb down the ladder.
It was one of the first things he asked me about the cows: why they would voluntarily head toward the barn in the evening.
Telling him about how cows enjoy having a set schedule and that they get antsy when milking is done too late or when they don’t get fed on time, was pretty funny.
The next day, I found Micah watching the pasture at milking time, so he could see for himself just how punctual our ladies were as they trotted toward the barn.
“Yeah, but today they need to go inside earlier than usual. The fireworks, you see?” Dad explains, pushing the curious noses away as they try to search his pockets. “Don’t want them to get scared.”
I push the ladder back together and lean it next to the door so I can wander over and join them, raising my hand at Micah. He gives me a brief smile, then swings his long legs over the fence.
“Okay, so just get them back to the barn?”
Dad nods, nudging one of the bigger calves, as it headbutts its companions. “If you see one getting rowdy like that, send ‘em over to me so I can tag ’em.”
Micah eyes the blue plastic plaques Dad pulls from his pocket, frowning. “Doesn’t this hurt them?”
“Nah, see?” Dad chuckles as the calf turns to him and instantly starts to nose at his hands, searching for a snack. He shows the blunt plastic ends to Micah. “Doesn’t connect.”
Dad wrangles the tag into the calf’s nose, giving its rear a swat to send it prancing after its siblings, then raises an eyebrow at Micah. “Did you think I went around giving my cows nose piercings?” He chortles and looks over at me.
I don’t join in on ribbing Micah. Plenty of people think the calf tags are the same as bull rings.
“It’s so they don’t give their moms trouble after they’re weaned.
It can hurt the udders when they still try to nurse.
And sometimes they turn to their siblings instead, which can really hurt them, so they get these tags,” I explain, rubbing my hand along a brown calf’s back. Its fuzzy-ended tail swishes happily.
“Ah, I see.” Micah nods along, but doesn’t take the tag. “Okay, I’ll send them toward you then.”
“Are you sure you don’t wanna take a break first?
” I ask, since Micah came straight from the orchard.
And even if it gets him some points with my dad, I want to remind him that he isn’t here to work himself to the bone.
This is only his second week here, and the first one didn’t go by without exhausting him.
Granted, our experimenting might have played a part in that, keeping him up after the workday, like when he gave me my first blowjob—and several others since then.
Even if it means fewer hours of sleep, both our skills have improved a lot.
I chase the errant thoughts away so I don't melt under Micah's easy smile.
“Nah, I’m fine.” Micah’s already walking toward the small group of cows that are hurrying away from Oak.
“Okay, but I’ll get you something to drink,” I announce, setting off toward the house.
“There you are.” Mom pokes her head around the corner, lighting the whole kitchen with her smile.
I quickly lower the bottle of juice that I was about to take a sip from.
This is an Always-Use-A-Glass household, but living at the Nook, I've learned that there's something primally joyful about gulping down a sweet and cold beverage straight from its container—which I doubt my mother would appreciate.
“Did you need me for something?”
“Just seeing if you and Micah wanted to join in to see the fireworks. We’re leaving in a few minutes.”
I can’t help but notice how naturally she named Micah and me in one go. Like it was a given that if I went, Micah would as well.
“No, you go ahead. But I’ll let Micah know. Maybe he wants to join.”
Mom hums, her brown eyes studying me closely.
I blink a few times, then huff. I can feel what she’s about to say. “He's just a friend, Mom. And we’re not glued at the hip.”
“Friends can spend time together too,” Mom trills, leaving me standing in the kitchen, flabbergasted and pink-cheeked.
I shake it off before I can think too hard about it, grabbing the juice bottle as well as a bag of crackers and some sweet popcorn, and hurry back outside.
I throw the snacks into my truck bed, but take the bottle of juice with me.
I barely make it across the yard when Micah emerges from the side doors of the barn. Once again, the fluffy orange cat trails after him.
“Hey,” I call out, smiling when he swerves toward me.
“Hey, the ladies aren’t happy, but they’re all cooped up now,” Micah informs me, taking the bottle with a grateful smile.
“Good,” I hum, entranced by the way he tips his head back as he drinks. “Uhm, everyone’s going to town to watch the fireworks. If you hurry, you can still catch up.”
He blinks at me, signaling that he heard, still gulping down juice like his life depends on it.
I chew on my lip, unable to tear my eyes away from his moving throat.
I can’t help but think back to feeling those same lips wrapped around me.
Which I definitely shouldn’t be doing while we’re standing in the yard.
I quickly look away to where Owen is persistently weaving around Micah’s ankles. I prop my hands on my hips and nudge the cat with one foot, trying to get him to back off. If he keeps this up, Micah will be covered with his shed fur and then we’ll have to get more efficient meds for his allergy.
Like all the other times I’ve tried to keep him away, the scruffy little devil stares at me with his green eyes, like he has the power of his fictional Navy Seal namesake from Olli’s romance novel.
Finally, Micah lowers the bottle. He gasps, as if surfacing from the deep waters of Lake Champlain. Now it’s not just his throat, but also his glistening lips and heaving chest that I’m staring at.
“You're not coming with?”
“Hmm—no, I…someone should be close by,” I hedge, nodding at the barn behind Micah. “I’ve never been into fireworks anyway.”
“If you say so.” Micah’s eyes twinkle, like he caught me in a lie.
It’s infuriating, but it works. My lips are moving again before I even realize I’m talking. “I was going to drive up the hill, watch it from there.”
“Oh, I…okay.” Micah’s shoulders pull up as if controlled by invisible strings. He raises the bottle again, though this time to toast to me before he empties it fully. “Have fun and thanks.”
I blink a few times, then realize how it must’ve sounded.
“I didn’t mean—do you wanna come? With me, I mean.”
Micah looks down at the cat curling around his feet. “What do you say, Owen? Wanna see some fireworks?”
“Uh, he wasn’t invited.” I’m not at all jealous of this scruffy bandit.
Not one bit. At least I can be close to Micah without him needing an allergy spray and— I cut off those idiotic thoughts but quietly make a note to get back to my room and fetch that little bottle so Micah won’t be sneezing all evening.
Because I just know he can’t say no to that silly cat, even if it wants to stick its tail right into his face.
“We’re in,” Micah finally announces, smiling brightly.
By the time we’re leaving the pastures behind, my truck trudging uphill, there’s an unexpected chill in the air. It rushes at me as soon as I open the car door, creeping under my shirt and settling there.