Page 16 of Cabins Cows Critics
“Did you always want to do this?” I ask, and he shakes his head, running one hand down Miss Moo’s spine.
“It sort of came about by chance, really. We rescued a calf from a storm a while back, and people from the town and even further away started to pop in and see her, to you know, check she was okay, and she loved the attention, and the cuddles, and then a few months later, we were hosting our first cuddle session, and it just took off from there. What’s the pencil for? Don’t writers all use computers now?” he asks, and I worry for the slightest second that he knows I am here to review the ranch, but then I remember Wen telling him about my book.
“Yeah, umm, they do. We do. But you never know when inspiration will hit, so keeping a pencil and notepad with me helps to jot down ideas and stuff, you know, so I don’t forget.”
I reach back and pull the notepad from my back pocket, my ass cheek grateful to be resting now on the soft straw-covered ground.
“Has Beaker Brothers been an inspiration to you yet?”
“In more ways than one,” I say, and it comes out way flirtier than I expect.
“Ohh, can I see?” he asks, and it’s not like he reached for the notebook or anything, but I clutch it to my chest like he might and shake my head.
“Ahh, no. I…”
“It’s cool. I’ll just wait for the book to come out and read it all then. Feel free to write in a strong, handsome cowboy into the story. He could be named Cooper or Carter.” He chuckles.
“Or Connor,” I reply, and his cheeks flood with pink, and he lowers his head, letting his hat shield him from view.
“Sure,” he says, still petting Miss Moo. “That would be cool, too.”
Sitting in the section set up for Miss Moo, it’s easy to forget that we’re actually on a ranch full of people. The team that works it, plus the guests staying for the same Christmas Experience I am. Is that all this is? Part of the experience. Maybe one-on-one sessions with cutie cowboy Connor are all part of the package. But then why would he tell Wendy he had too much work to do, and then come sit with me? Fuck. I have to stop calling him that. He’s just Connor, the cowboy who runs the cuddle cove, just one aspect of the ranch I am here to review. Because this is work. Not play. And as much as I would love to take him into the barn back there and blow him so good he screams my name, that is not what I came for. I shake the image of his hard-toned body and try to focus.
“So, did you grow up here?”
“Ahh, no. Umm. I should get back to it,” he says, climbing and heading out of the cuddle zone before I can even blink. Miss Moo lifts her head for the first time since she set it down.
“Is it just me, Miss Moo, or was that weird?” I ask, but she just nudges my hand with her head like, how dare I stop petting her, and then rests her head in my lap again.
I can’t be sure, because he really could have stuff to do, but my gut is telling me he was dodging the question, or at least dodging whatever direction our conversation was now going in. Maybe this Cowboy Christmas might be an interesting story after all.
Chapter seven
Connor
FAMILY DINNERS
Sally-Mayplacestheplateof roast chicken in the middle of the table. I don’t remember a time before she was cooking for the Beaker Brothers, but apparently, there were more than a few microwave meals involved.
Sally-May used to run the diner in town and sold up to retire, only she didn’t like not doing anything with her time, and so she cooks meals for the guys on the ranch and the guests who stay here. Both Sally-May and her husband, Perry, live in a trailer home designed by their grandson. It sits at the back of the main house, beside the vegetable gardens, and is connected by a covered porch and stairs.
She serves Perry a helping of chicken, and that’s our cue that we can all dig in.
Skye is quick to grab a couple of drumsticks, but I make a start on the sides first. Grilled corn, garlic broccoli, and cheesy cauliflower are taking up half my plate. The table is a buzz ofenergy, arms crisscrossing, plates and cutlery clattering, and it’s second only to when I am alone in the cuddle cove with the cows on my list of favorite places to be.
Dean, the oldest of the Beaker brothers, passes his brother Nial the bread rolls.
“So who do you think is the critic?” Dean asks, and Nial shrugs.
“No clue. Maybe your tip was wrong, and none of them are.”
“What about a critic?” I ask, finally grabbing a few pieces of chicken from the middle of the table to finish off my plate.
Dean loads extra helpings of the grilled vegetable mix onto his boyfriend Preston’s plate as Preston adds a few helpings of green beans to his. It should be totally corny, but I think it’s sweet the way they just naturally do things for each other. Preston is the only vegetarian on the ranch, except for the city slickers in cabin twelve. But they’ll check out after Christmas. Preston is here to stay, at least I hope he is. I’ve never seen Dean happier.
“We got wind that there would be a critic staying with us over Christmas, to review the experience. If they review it well, we’ll hopefully see an uptick in bookings and can run more experiences next year,” Dean goes on to explain.
“They’d just be reviewing the ranch, though, right? Like they don’t want to know all about us, do they?” I ask, a nervous swirl in my gut. I ran for so long from the spotlight, from the mess I made of my life. The people who called themselves my family only to turn their backs on me when they learned who I really was. It’s been so long, I’m sure none of them would recognize me if we were standing face to face, so hopefully whoever this critic is, doesn’t see the old me either. I wonder if it’s Hayden. No. Wendy said he was writing a book.
