Page 17 of Cabins Cows Critics
Nial brushes his hair back with his fingers, a cheeky grin on his face.
“They can write about me if they want. I’ve got nothing to hide,” he boasts, and I realize just then that what I said could sound really suspicious.
“Oh, I don’t either, I just think it would do heaps more for the ranch to focus on the guest experiences rather than the guys running it,” I say, trying to explain myself and not draw attention to the fact that I really don’t want some reporter digging into my past.
Atlas raises his hand like he’s in middle school.
“You know what would get rave reviews,” he starts, but Dean interjects.
“No nudist weekends on the ranch.”
“Seriously, it would be so much fun, though. Can you imagine how nice it would be to go swimming in the pool naked under the stars?”
“Gross, dude. We’d have to triple the salt levels to kill off all your naked germs,” Nial says, and I laugh.
“You know that people are naked under their bathing suits, don’t you? Like the same parts of their body are in the water even if they are covered from view?” I say.
He frowns as that realization sets in.
“I’m never swimming with you guys again.”
Atlas points his fork in my direction.
“Okay, Connor is on board—“
“I never said that.”
“Come on, it will be fun.”
“It would be cold, and I don’t think people should be cuddling cows or riding horses in the nude.”
“They won’t be doing those things naked,” he tries to explain, and I notice how he talks about his nudist retreat like it’s a when, not an if thing that will happen. He’s been trying for years to get the Beakers to agree. Atlas is a nudist himself, which is whyhis trailer is the furthest from everything else out here. A guest would have to cross the horse paddock to even get close.
“No nudist anything,” Dean says dryly, then turns his attention to me.
“Any ideas of who it could be?”
“I’ve only seen a couple of the guests check in so far. There’s the young couple in twelve, the sisters in seven and eight has that family who insisted they booked two cabins when we know they only booked one and wanted to try to get another one for free for their older kids.”
“I gave the two older kids cabin ten,” Nial interjects, and I shake my head.
“Should have given them a fold-out cot instead. I doubt they’re the ones reviewing this place.”
Nial rips open his bread roll and dips the torn end into the gravy on his plate.
“We had the room. Besides, five kids in one small cabin, how is that a vacation? Maybe they couldn’t afford to book two.”
“You’re starting to sound more and more like Dean. Better watch out, baby Beaker, or you’ll start people thinking you actually care.” I laugh, and he scoffs.
“The eldest of their kids is twenty and fit as fu…” he stalls, everyone’s gaze moving to Sally-May. This house might belong to the Beaker Brothers, but the dining room and kitchen are Sally-Mays.
“Firemen,” Nial continues, and I shake my head.
“Well, if it isn’t them that just leaves the couple from today, and the single guy, Larry something, in cabin three,” Dean says.
“The guy in the couple is writing a book,” I say.
Atlas waves his fork in my direction, flinging a remnant of chicken onto Skye’s plate. Skye picks it up and drops it on the table.
