for the cow’s nipples or whatever, but every time Kerry used the term, I was basically transported back to junior high, squashing the urge to laugh and make fun.
It took me a couple of tries, as well as Kerry reaching over my shoulder to show me how, before I got it down. I found myself smiling like some fool who’d just won the lottery instead of someone who’d learned to milk a cow. Ridiculous.
Once the machine was on her and we stood back to give her space, I marveled again about the fact that I was on a farm in Wyoming, when only yesterday, I was getting a hot dog from a street vendor in Columbus Circle.
“I remember visiting you, on your ranch, when you and Sienna still lived there,” I said out of the blue, and I noticed the slight tightening in his jaw. “I was only a teenager.”
“I remember. You were a skinny, awkward thing.”
“Thanks a lot,” I scoffed.
“But look at you now. You could probably take me in a fight.” When he grinned, I couldn’t help grinning back, shaking my head in the process because he was likely right. But he’d give me a run for my money with those hard guns, that was for sure.
He had a nice smile—straight teeth, except the very front one was slightly crooked, which only made him more real. Appealing too.
“You miss it—life on the ranch?”
“In general, no.” He shrugged. “It’s hard work, but there’s a certain camaraderie you develop when you’re on horseback together moving cattle all day. It’s like a common goal, and being with my family all the time…well, it had its perks as well as its faults.”
“I can see that. I developed the same sort of solidarity with the guys in my squad.”
He nodded. “Bet you refer to them as your brothers?”
“I do.” I felt that familiar pang in my gut that some of them were still serving our country and I was stuck here. It was a special sort of guilt, and I wondered if Kerry ever felt a similar sort of pang. Though it wasn’t so black and white. I could feel two things at once, and so could he. A deep nostalgia about certain rituals and also relief that it’s come to an end. But what did I know? I would certainly never put words in his mouth.
“I still ride.” He looked toward the open barn door as if picturing it, and it reminded me of the first time I saw all the brothers ride up on horseback on the ranch. Good God, they were hot and buff, and yeah, I was definitely up in my gay fantasies by that time. “We brought our horses with us because no way we’d want to be without them. But now it’s just for recreation—or transportation, if somethin’ needs a quick fixin’ on the land.”
I thought of Ainsley and her excitement over her horse, Piper. We never had pets growing up, and I suddenly wondered what it might feel like to have that connection to an animal. Did it bring a certain sort of contentment I was missing in my life? I knew some vets who were on waiting lists for therapy dogs for severe PTSD or physical disabilities. I’d bet they were a huge comfort in times of need. Maybe I’d look into a cat or dog when I headed back East. Or a pig. I nearly snorted out loud.
“You ride?” Kerry asked, bending beneath the cow and pulling the machine away.
“Me? No, never.” I smirked. “City boy, remember?”
He glanced back at me. “But most of your adult life was spent in the desert, yeah?” He shook his head. “Sorry if I’m being too nosy. None of my business.”
“No, you’re right.” I took a deep breath, remembering the conditions in a duller way so that I didn’t feel so connected to those emotions. It was easier that way. “There was mostly mountainous terrain, and the air was hot and dry. Felt like my throat was parched most of the time. Except in the winter, when it felt like my balls would freeze and fall off in the middle of the night.”
He laughed. “Oh, it can get cold round here too.”
Suddenly there was a loud snort as Phoebe nudged her nose through the barn entrance with Hamlet hot on her heels.
“There you two are. What’ve you been up to?” He peeked at them accusingly over the top of the enclosure. And the way the two pairs of