Cattle Stop by Kit Oliver
Chapter Twelve
The blazingheat so early in the morning and swarming bugs aren’t Cooper’s favorite, but Whit working without his shirt certainly is. Smooth brown skin, shifting muscles as Whit picks up the sledgehammer, and the shine of sun across the beads of sweat dotting his spine—
“Cooper,” Whit says.
“Huh?”
“Hold it straight.”
Cooper tilts the fence post upright. “I wanna do the hammering this time.”
“No, you put them in crooked.” Whit holds the hammer away, as if Cooper’s going to really lunge for it.
Which…he could do. And be pressed up against that torso, shiny with sweat.
Fencing, he tells himself. “I do not.”
“You do.” Whit points with his bandaged hand back at the line of fence posts behind them, stretching up the hill and off toward the back fields. “You can literally see which ones I did and which ones you did.”
“You always hit my fingers, though.”
“I’ve never once hit your fingers.”
“And besides, being straight has never been a particular strength of mine.”
Whit just grabs Cooper’s wrist, sets his hands around the post, and raises the hammer. “Hold it still.”
“My fingers!”
“You’re fine.”
“You’re going to be real sad the day you do hit them.”
Whit gives the fence post a solid whack and ignores him, his abs flexing above where the waist of his pants sits flat against the V of his hipbones.
“Cooper,” Whit says.
“It’s straight!”
“I’d send you over to Drew to help him with the clapboards except, oh wait, then the outside of the house’d be crooked too.”
“This lane is my genius idea if you’ll remember,” Cooper says.
“You tell me”—Whit brings the sledgehammer down—“every”—another whack—“day.”
“’Cause it’s great.” Cooper lets go of the post, and when it stays where it is, driven far enough into the ground to hold, he steps back. “You know, if we had a hydraulic post pounder, we’d have been done last week.”
Though, then he wouldn’t have gotten glorious day after glorious day of Whit lifting the sledgehammer, triceps tensing, his back flexing, and his pants slipped low on his hips. But on the other hand, they could still be in bed, naked and sweaty, in the early morning heat. A toss-up.
But as far as having his cake and eating it too…
Cooper slips his hand into Whit’s back pocket. T-minus three seconds until Whit sighs, pulls Cooper’s hand away, and points to the next fence post, but hey, Cooper can enjoy that firm curve of muscle until then.
Whit kisses him. Softly, once, then pulls back and looks over his shoulder toward the barnyard. From here, the whine of Drew’s saw is barely noticeable, and wherever Penny is, she’s not outside where she can see them. Cooper squeezes his delicious handful and Whit kisses him again, walking him backward into the side of the pickup truck, the metal already hot from the sun.
“Here I thought you were our taskmaster for the morning. What happened to your work itinerary?” Cooper bites at Whit’s lower lip and squeezes again. “Or is this a yes to getting a post pounder?”
“Is that an attempt at a joke?”
“If you like dirty talk, you can just say so.” Cooper kisses Whit again, a pleasant hum beginning to light low in his stomach.
Insatiable, he’s thought more than once, and apparently today’s only difference is they’re not waiting for the privacy of nighttime and their room. Whit licks into his mouth and Cooper spreads his hands over Whit’s chest, all firm muscles and soft skin.
Already, Cooper’s breath picks up, blood pulsing in his ears over the soft smack of their mouths, and Whit’s low grunt as he hooks his hand beneath Cooper’s thigh and yanks their hips flush. Somewhere, Sadie barks and the circular saw spins. Cooper tips his head back and winds his arms around Whit’s neck, letting Whit hold him off balance, the truck against his back and Whit’s body pressed in close.
Sadie barks again.
“S’just Socks messing with her,” Cooper murmurs as Whit sucks on his neck.
Whit presses their foreheads together and hikes Cooper’s shirt up to his ribs and says, “Good.”
“Yeah, good, like that.” Cooper pushes into Whit’s fingers on his fly.
They’re not really going to get each other off in the middle of the pasture, are they? Whit edges Cooper’s zipper down. Oh, fuck yeah, they’re really going to get each other off in the middle of the pasture. This is a goddamn dream come true.
Good news, fifteen-year-old me, life turns out to be truly excellent, Cooper thinks and shoves both his hands between Whit’s ass and his boxers.
Sadie barks again. She follows it with a yip, and then her deeper bellow that isn’t her years-long war waged with Socks but an announcement of a car arriving. Cooper peels his eyes open and peers around the back of the tailgate. A truck, actually. And climbing out of the cab—
Cooper jerks his zipper closed. “I didn’t invite him.”
“What?” Whit wipes the back of his hand across his mouth. He looks dazed, a little dreamy, until he blinks, and there’s his normal coolness and a pinch on his forehead as he cranes his neck to look. “Is that Brad?”
“Hey guys!” Brad shouts, waving his arm over his head.
Cooper ducks behind the bed of the pickup, straightening his hair and pulling down his shirt. Brad can’t really see them, not with the truck parked how it is, but fucking hell, this is awkward. “I don’t know what he’s doing here.” Cooper grabs his hat where he’d set it on the tailgate, jamming it onto his head like it’s any sort of real barrier between him, Whit, and their apparent audience.
It’s fine. Brad didn’t see anything. And neither did Drew, who walks around the side of the house, lifting a hand in hello, or the other man who gets out of Brad’s truck.
Huh.
“Travis?” Cooper asks.
Whit pushes his arms through the sleeves of his T-shirt. He already looks cool as a goddamn cucumber, while Cooper’s skin is still buzzing. “Yeah, that’s Travis.”
“And I thought you were stuffy as all hell. He gives you a real run for your money,” Cooper says, squinting at the neat tuck of Travis’s crisp button-down into his slacks. Even from here, his shoes look shiny.
Up close, those shiny shoes are even more out of place in the dust and gravel of the barnyard, the toes clean and the laces neat. Cooper shakes Travis’s hand and probably leaves a smear of dirt behind, his hands grimy after a morning of milking, chores, and fencing…and Whit’s ass that he could still be grabbing right now.
Cooper forces a smile. “So good to see you again.”
“Yeah, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Travis rocks back on his heels, looking around the barnyard. “Penny around?”
“No,” Drew says.
“What’re you two working on over there?” Brad shields his eyes against the sun with a cupped palm, cracking his gum. “New pasture?”
“Just a lane between the pastures and the barn,” Cooper says.
“What a great idea, Coop, I should’ve thought of that. Saves some time, yeah?”
See? Cooper could ask Whit. Dig his elbow into Whit’s ribs, toss him a smile and tease, Brad gets it.
Instead, he just shrugs. “That’s the hope.”
Brad claps him on the arm and Cooper shifts away, though his shoulder bumps into Whit’s chest. “Sorry,” he mumbles.
Didn’t know Whit was standing right there and now it’s just awkward, crammed between the two of them. Cooper backs up a step and bends to rub Sadie’s ears.
Brad snaps his gum again and says, “Thought I’d pick up this week’s order for the market, if you’ve got it ready.”
“Brad’s politely not mentioning that I dragged him over here, wanted to see if I could get a bit of cheese too.” Travis turns in a small circle as he looks around. “And I wanted to see the place. It’s looking pretty good, Drew. Things going well?”
Drew shrugs, his hands deep in his pockets. “It’s going okay.”
“Well, I picked up some of your Camembert from Brad when I was up here the other day, and let me tell you, I think it helped sell a three-bedroom weekend home over near Albany. Real into local food, a lot of these buyers are.”
“How is it local if they’re only up here for the weekend?” Whit asks.
Stay in the city, Whit probably thinks whenever he comes upon leaf peepers and skiers. Hell, he probably thought that a dozen times at Cooper himself, freed from the city for the summer and heading upstate as soon as he could.
“That’s real great to hear,” Drew says.
“Thought I’d stock up while I’m visiting my mom,” Travis says. “I’d keep buying out the supply at the market, but I think they’re down to just some blocks of cheddar.”
“Yeah?” Drew asks. “Well, sure, I’ve got more. How much do you need?”
“How much you got that Brad’s not picking up? I’m telling you, an initial meeting with buyers in my office, where I set out a plate of cheese and crackers and tell a story about growing up down the street from here? Hook, line, and sinker, don’t tell the competition.” Travis lets out a loud laugh.
Cooper scratches beneath Sadie’s collar, trying not to grimace. All he can picture is an entire office full of Travises, all of them with too-white teeth, holding out perfect platters and celebrating the chime of dollar signs. Fucking hell, Travis spending his life holed up under fluorescent lights in a stuffy office building when—if he wanted to—he could be working his mom’s land, not leaving it for Drew to hay every summer.
Though, maybe someday that house will be Travis’s “weekend home.” Or, God, he’ll sell it to some equally polished city-weekender, who’ll complain every time a cow makes a peep, let alone wanders over after staging their latest escape and rooting through the lawn for a snack.
The door to the house squeaks open and Travis grins, his arms spread wide. “There you are!” he says.
“Oh.” Penny looks between Travis and the rest of them. “Hi.”
“Hi, you.”
Travis holds out his arm for a hug, but Penny turns her side to him, letting him only squeeze her shoulders quickly as she cradles her coffee mug in both hands. She steps back as soon as he’s done.
“Didn’t know you were in town,” Penny says.
“I texted you.”
“Let me grab that cheese for you,” Drew says.
“Yeah,” Travis says, still smiling at Penny. “Whatever you’ve got on hand.”
“Why don’t you come look?” Drew asks.
“You know, if this works, maybe I could swing by more often, grab more cheese as I need it, yeah?” Travis throws another smile toward Penny. “Be great to see you guys more.”
Go away, Cooper thinks. That’d be nice, if he and Brad just disappeared back down the road, some extra cash filling Drew’s wallet, and the farm quiet and peaceful again.
“Get cheese from your own damn shop,” Cooper whispers to Sadie. Then, he straightens. That’s not a half-bad idea. “Hey, Travis, rather than running out of our cheese all the time, is there a place near your office we could set up a wholesale account?”
Travis laughs again. It’s really too loud a sound and his mouth opens too wide, like he’s practiced in the mirror to figure out the perfect angle for his jaw. “I don’t know much about the cheese world, I’m afraid,” he says.
“C’mon, there’s got to be places near you. You’ve got your office near Fulton Street, right? What about Annabelle’s Market?” Whit glances at him and Cooper shrugs. “My mom works near there.”
“Annabelle’s buys from a distributor, but you might have luck with Cedar Street Markets,” Brad says. “They own our market too.”
Cooper turns toward Brad. Don’t start, he wants to whisper to Whit, ’cause that’s some damn helpful information. “They do?” Cooper asks. “You know anyone there?”
“Well”—Brad snaps his gum—“you gonna tell my boss if I say yes?”
“I’m gonna give you a dozen fresh eggs and some of Drew’s Parmesan.”
“Well, yeah, I might’ve been chatting with them recently.” Brad shrugs. “They’ve got some job openings and I’m not sure I don’t want to move somewhere more exciting, if I’m not going to be farming.”
Exciting. Cooper nearly laughs. “I think I call predawn cow escapades as much fun as I need.”
“Come down to the city with me, Coop, I’ll introduce you,” Brad says. “Myra is who you want to talk to.”
“No.” Whit’s arm brushes Cooper’s. Again, standing so damn close, like Whit somehow doesn’t know it’s already a million fucking degrees and the morning’s not half-over.
“God forbid we change the plan for the day, you mean.” Cooper hitches his thumb over his shoulder toward Whit. “Six fence posts by ten o’clock or Whit’s eye starts twitching.”
Whit shakes his head. “No, I just meant—the account, if you’re setting something up, Drew should go, or I should, not just Cooper.”
“I can do it,” Cooper says.
“The discounts,” Whit says.
Cooper scoffs. “I can do math.”
“Can you?” Whit asks.
Cooper pokes him in the ribs. “Fuck you.”
He pulls his hand back quickly. He didn’t mean to touch Whit, with everyone standing around. Argue with him, like they’re alone in their room. Flirt, a small voice whispers to him and he frowns, his cheeks heating. Embarrassing, all of it. Just sex, he thinks. Fucking focus.
“We’d love any chance to talk to them. Myra, you said? Is she around today?” Cooper asks.
“Yeah, I can definitely take you down.” Brad looks over at Whit. “Though I’ve just got the truck, so it’d probably be more comfortable if only Cooper and I go.”
“I could follow you.” Drew casts a look toward the barn. “The milk’ll keep.”
“I’ll go,” Whit says.
Cooper blows out a breath. “I can make a damn sale. And I’d like to see my moms if anyone is going down to the city.”
“No, I know, I just meant—” Whit licks quickly at his lips. “Coop, we can head down together. No need to interrupt your day, Brad. And, Drew, you can work on the cheese.”
“What about the fencing schedule?” Cooper asks. “Kind of a drop-of-the-hat redirect to your day, Mr. Morales.”
“Yeah,” Brad says. “Wouldn’t want to throw you off, Whit, seems like you have plenty to do around here.”
“Da pena verlos1.” Penny claps her hands together. “Whit and Cooper, you two go. I have today off, I’ll take care of milking this afternoon, yeah? I wouldn’t mind a day on the farm.”
“You sure?” Drew asks.
“Well, you’re making me dinner as a thank you, and Whit and Cooper are bringing me back some sort of overpriced, delicious treat, so yeah, I’m sure.”
“Yeah, I’ll make you dinner.” Drew’s cheeks turn a little pink. “Yeah, cool. And let me just grab that order, Brad, and I can get some cheese for you too, Travis.”
“Awesome, so are we doing this?” Cooper asks. “Yes? Getting while the getting’s good? Hey, Drew, put some cheese together for us to take down to the city!”
Drew waves a hand to show he heard as he disappears into the barn, Travis and Brad trailing after him.
Whit glances toward the field and the truck still parked there, the bed stacked full of fence posts and the roll of wire glinting in the morning sun. “It’ll take all day to get down there and back.”
Cooper grabs Whit’s arm, steers him after Penny as she walks towards the house, and says, “And yet, opportunity beckons. I swear, if you start in on the schedule for getting the fencing done, I’ll remind you, this doesn’t have to take as long if we get a post pounder to—”
“Rentals cost money.”
Cooper spreads his hands wide, walking backward toward the house. “Which is why I’m bringing home the bacon with cheese sales, babe.”
Oh, fuck.
Babe.
Cooper wants to crawl under a rock as he follows Whit up to their room, pretending texting Terry takes more time than it does just to be able to mess with his phone. Just sex, just sex, just sex—Whit has no problem keeping that damn fact straight.
Sorry, he nearly blurts out as Whit shuts the door behind them. But maybe Whit didn’t hear what Cooper said. Or maybe he’s just politely ignoring that slip of an endearment, his head too full of the work they’re not getting finished today and the discomfort of the spontaneity of heading down to the city spur of the moment.
Cooper tosses a clean sock onto his bed and kneels to root through his duffle bag for another. “I really can handle going down to the city,” he says, “if you don’t want to come. I promise I can even count to ten, and all the way to twenty if I use my toes.”
“I was just messing with you about the discounts.”
“And I’m not—whatever. Look, I know the farm is really yours and Drew’s. I’m not trying to horn in on that.”
Since his first summer here, acne all over his chin and punch-drunk in love with Whit, Cooper’s known it’s Drew and Whit, Whit and Drew, and then Penny, too, when she moved in after Drew’s aunt and uncle retired. So no, he doesn’t need a reminder.
“Hey,” Whit says softly.
“Really, you don’t have to come.” Cooper jams his arm into the far corner of his bag.
“I want to.”
Cooper straightens, his knees digging into the floorboards. “Don’t lie.”
“I do.” Whit shrugs. “And maybe I want to meet your mom.”
Cooper huffs a laugh and tips his bag upside down, shaking it until the sock finally falls out. “Don’t hold your breath. We’re competing for her time with her sacred meeting schedule.”
“Hey,” Whit says again and nods toward the bathroom. “Come here, would you? You smell like a cow.”
“Cows smell great.” Cooper lets himself be tugged up to his feet. “You’re the one who fed the stinky-ass pigs this morning, bucket by agonizingly slow bucket.”
Cooper tosses his phone next to the sink and turns the shower up hot, like Whit likes it. The dial’s always set to a temperature ready to scald Cooper’s skin lobster-red, whenever he showers after Whit. Though he’ll take it now as Whit steers him under the spray of water.
Cooper shoves Whit’s arm so his bandaged hand sticks out past the shower curtain. God, Whit feels good. All the better with the hot water billowing steam around them, and the slippery flow of Whit slicking soap across Cooper’s chest. They should shower together every day, should’ve been doing this for weeks now. Saving on hot water, or some such reasoning, when the truth is Whit’s cock is stirring against Cooper’s stomach.
Cooper sucks lightly on the ridge of Whit’s collarbone, all fresh water and the faint bite of soap. Lower, across the plane of Whit’s pecs, Cooper bends to lick the water streaming off the bulges of his abs. A vein runs down the flat of Whit’s stomach beneath his navel, and when Whit presses his shoulder, Cooper kneels, tracing the course of water with his tongue.
Whit grabs Cooper’s head as Cooper kisses the tip of his cock. Dark eyes, water streaming over his nose and chin, his lips full and parted—damn but Whit’s a sight. Cooper leans forward and kisses him again, his tongue just barely darting out.
“C’mon,” Whit grunts. His grip tightens.
“C’mon, what?”
Whit inhales, his chest rising. Gently, he presses and Cooper lets himself be pushed forward, taking Whit’s cock in his mouth. He tastes so good. He always does, but this is all the more fun with water streaming over Whit’s skin, the slipperiness of the shower, and the humid rise of steam.
Cooper grabs the back of Whit’s thighs and sucks just how Whit likes it, drawing his tongue up the length slowly and dipping back down quicker. Whit tilts his head back, his hips pushing forward. Yeah, fuck yeah, just like that, Whit’s cock bumping the back of Cooper’s throat. Cooper could do this all damn day, until his knees go numb and the shower runs cold, Whit clawing at his hair and Cooper catching the rhythm of the tiny flexes of his hips.
Whit’s breathing speeds up, like it always does just before he comes. Cooper flicks his tongue faster and looks up the length of Whit’s body. He could stop. Pull off Whit, tease him and mess with him, and see if this morning’s frolic doesn’t involve getting shoved facedown onto his own bed, Whit climbing behind him, just how Cooper likes it.
Though Whit shakes his head, a tiny, short gesture, and Cooper would laugh if his mouth wasn’t full of that gorgeous cock, sure that Whit knows what he was thinking. Whit’s hand tightens, holds Cooper there, and Whit comes with a hard gasp, fingers flexing on Cooper’s head and flooding his mouth.
Cooper pulls off Whit’s cock, pokes a finger into his thigh, and says, “You keep your other hand dry?”
“Fuck you.”
“Please.”
Whit hooks a hand beneath Cooper’s arm and hauls him upright. Whit’s mouth falls to Cooper’s neck and their skin slides together, and Cooper tips his head back and guides Whit’s hand to his cock.
“Like that,” Cooper says.
“I think I know how to do it.”
Cooper tugs Whit into a faster pace. “C’mon.”
“Shut up and let me—”
“No, like that, I—”
Whit kisses him. Slows his pace further, elbows away Cooper’s hand, and presses him in to the side of the shower stall. And fucking hell, that’s something, to be held so still, water beating at them, and Whit jerking him slowly.
Which works so fucking well. Cooper bites back his whine, and when he starts panting, frustrated and so goddamn turned on he wants to crawl out of his skin, he turns his face away from the curl of Whit’s mouth. This shouldn’t be so good. It can’t be so good, slow and just with Whit’s hand, but it is, and Cooper wants to scream or squirm or fuck blindly into Whit’s fist, but every time he moves, Whit just holds him tighter.
Cooper comes on a high, keening cry he’s going to be embarrassed about later. Oh God. Oh, fucking hell dammit, that was better than any hand job has any right to be, the hot blaze of pleasure, the burst low in his stomach, the chase of his hips in Whit’s grip.
Whit kisses Cooper before he’s caught his breath, and he smacks at Whit’s back, trying to grab purchase on Whit’s slippery skin. But Whit just keeps holding Cooper, kissing him even as Cooper’s lungs burn, and he comes down off the high of his orgasm, slumping into Whit’s body.
Good. So, so good. And he could just stay like this, Whit kissing lazily over his skin, his arms hooked around Whit’s neck, and their world shrunk to the flow of the shower and the rise of steam curtaining their bodies.
Above the patter of the shower, Cooper’s phone beeps. He blinks water from his eyes.
Right, his phone.
The city.
Cheese, he thinks dimly and nudges the curtain aside to tip his phone so he can read the screen.
Your mom’s around if you’re here by lunch, Terry texted.
So probably, he still won’t see her. But maybe. Maybe.
Whit bends and kisses the back of his neck.
Cooper shrugs him off. “We gotta go.”
“Right now?”
“I’ll give you a shampoo hairdo another time. C’mon, get a move on.”
Cooper jumps on one foot to tug his jeans on over skin he dried too hurriedly. Whit fusses with his hair in the bathroom, his eyes drooping with that post-sex haze he gets. Cooper smacks the flat of his palm against the doorjamb and jerks his chin toward the door. They have time later to linger over a longer shower, and he ushers Whit toward the stairs, yanking the keys out of Whit’s hand and checking his watch.