Page 28 of Cabins Cows Critics
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“Hayden, you have to see this one,” Wen calls from the mini goat section of the cuddle cove. She’s got a spotted baby goat in her lap, circling like a cat. “They’re so cute.”
“I’m good over here with the calmer cows, thanks,” I tell her as I brush down Miss Milky. She’s a huge White Park that apparently belongs to Dean, the head guy on the ranch. He and his brother Nial run this place, and she was the first cow he ever bought himself. After knocking out another chapter of my book with coffee this morning, I started on the review article, though it’s reading a little like a list of facts rather than a review. If I want this to read more like my other pieces, I need it to tell the story of this place. That’s how my restaurant reviews alwayswere. Stories of my journey through the courses, the flavor profiles captivating my senses. That is what this needs to be. I close my eyes and focus on the sounds of the ranch. Children laughing as rocks skid along the gravel path. They’re coming for the session today, I’m sure, as their voices grow louder. The snorts and brays of the mini goats and the moo of the Highlands, and then the sweetest sound of all. Connor’s voice is there like a melody floating toward me on the cool winter breeze.
“I see you’ve found a new friend,” he says, and I open my eyes, the smile on my lips growing as I take him all in.
He’s resting one foot up on the fence rail in his worn denim jeans and leather chaps. His muscled chest bulges through a blue flannel shirt and is wrapped in a worn leather jacket that’s the color of fine whiskey. If that wasn’t enough to already send my heart racing, his devilish grin directed my way under his tipped cowboy hat would have certainly done the trick.
“I told you, I’m great at making friends.”
“I remember.”
“So what about you?” I ask, and he lowers his foot and leans his back against the rail.
“What about me?”
“Do you have lots of…friends?”
He shrugs. “I wouldn’t say lots, but I’ve got the ones I need.”
“Here on the ranch?”
“Yeah. This place has become my home. I can’t imagine living anywhere else.”
“I used to feel that way about the city, or at least about the part of it that I live in now.”
“What’s it like?”
“My place?”
“Yeah. What is it about the city you love?” he asks, folding his arms over his chest, biceps bulging and his piercing gaze totally focused on me.
“The familiar noises are a constant hum in my mind. Like a lullaby helping to send me off to sleep. My place is small, not as small as the cabins here, but small enough to feel cozy. I’m not great with wide-open spaces, and being able to see all four walls helps me feel safe, I guess. Secure. I’m not a hermit or anything. I go out all the time, for…work.”
“Writing your book?”
I pause, wondering how much I should tell him about me and why I am here. If I talk about the food reviews, he might ask if I am reviewing the ranch, and I don’t think I could lie to him.
“Yeah, but it doesn’t pay yet, so I take on a few articles here and there, enough to pay the rent and keep me in coffee.”
“Have you tried the brew in your room?” he asks.
“No, I’m no good with the press thingy, so I’ve been using the instant in the room. It’s okay. I can wait until I get back into town to grab a real coffee from the cafe there.”
“I can make you one, up in the house. Preston and Dean have a machine installed,” he says, reaching down for my hand and pulling me up to stand.
“You don’t have to. I mean, you are probably really busy here, and the session is starting soon, isn’t it?” I ask, acutely aware that he hasn’t let go of my hand, and the warmth of his large fingers surrounding mine spreads through my arm.
Connor shakes his head. “Nial is taking a group to see the bigger animals first, like Chewie. You know he was in the pool again this morning when Skye went to feed them.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, no clue how he’s getting out, though.”
“Probably jumped.”
“If he did, then we’d have the new Guinness world record; those fences around the pen are six feet, the highest ever jump is just under four.”
