Of course, he says very little. How does the farm look to him? Our place isn’t as tidy and professional as our neighbors’. We have a nice barn, but my dad built the wonky outbuildings. Still, they’re all precious to me.
Mr. Too Cool for Life doesn’t say a word as I point out all the farm highlights. The only time he seems interested is when I show him the animals. I hope he’s not an animal lover because then I might have to like him. Noah is confirming my theory that really good-looking guys are conceited jerks. Not that I have a ton of personal experience in this area, but I’ve seen enough movies.
“This is Hammy.” The big pig lurches towards us.
“Hey.” Noah reaches out a hand. Hammy sniffs it and then raises her face in an expression that almost looks like disappointment.
I laugh. And Noah smiles for the first time. If I thought he was attractive when he scowled, it’s nothing compared to this. The smile softens the angular planes of his face and gives him a boyish sweetness. I feel an actual thump in my chest, then shake my head. Noah Goodwin is a big jerk, and I’m not going to get a crush on him.
Still, we have to get along. I snag a couple of windfall apples and hand them to Noah.
“Hold these out with an open palm.” He does this, and Hammy eagerly gobbles them down. Noah looks innocently pleased, and again I feel that strange tug inside.
“Got a friend for life now,” I say. Which, in Hammy’s case, is only a couple of months more. We tour the barn, a solid structure that was here when we got the place. It’s too big for our needs, but we keep the goats in here and store hay.
“What’s all this?” Noah points to an ancient weight bench, weights, and a second-hand rowing machine in a former horse stall.
“My brother set up a gym in here. So he could train for hockey.”
Noah’s lip curls at the idea. He probably has a state-of-the-art gym back in his palatial home on the Pacific Ocean. “Isn’t there a gym at school?”
“Yeah, but it takes time to go back and forth. This is an easy way to get a workout in. If you don’t mind the smell of goat.”
A flare of Noah’s nostrils indicates that he does mind the smell of goat.
Our cat twists his way between his legs and lets out a loud meow.
“Hello there.” Noah crouches down and rubs the cat’s head. The tabby immediately rolls onto his back and exposes his striped belly for more rubs.
“His name is Katmandu. Katman for short. Do you have pets at home?” I sound like a ten-year-old trying to make friends. Next I can ask him what his favorite flavor of ice cream is.
Noah shakes his head. “Nope. We’re too busy.”
“I never had any either,” I say.
“What’s this then?” he asks, as Katman shamelessly wriggles in ecstasy under Noah’s long, tapered fingers. I can’t help but notice how pretty his hands are. They look like the hands you see demonstrating things in commercials. Whereas my hands with their broken nails and reddened skin look like the “before” hands in a moisturizing ad.
“He’s a barn cat. He doesn’t come in the house. Same as Pete.” I incline my head towards the dog roaming the goat pasture. “They’re working animals.”
“I guess if you live on a farm, you get enough time with animals,” he said.
Wait. Are we having an actual conversation? “You can’t get too attached to animals on a farm. That’s why my father used to say to harden me up. A few months after we moved in, an owl killed a dozen chickens in one night. I was ten and had raised them up from chicks.”
“That’s rough,” Noah says.
I shrug. “We learned the hard way how to keep chickens safe. I’ll introduce you to the goats later. Milking them is the biggest chore you’ll have to do when I’m not here. I’m going to start dinner now.”
He nods. As we turn to go back inside, I look up at him. There’s a brief zing as his dark brown eyes meet mine.
“Noah, I want to apologize for what happened today. I should not have lost my temper and thrown you out of the car. And thanks so much for not ratting me out to my mother. She would have flipped out.”
Noah lifts one shoulder in a lazy half-shrug. “Not to worry. I know what that’s like.”
What does he mean? Having a parent get mad at you? Because I cannot imagine the icy cool Noah ever doing something rash.
5
Noah