Page 34 of Cabins Cows Critics
I laugh. “I would have loved to have seen that.”
“Looks like it might snow soon, so doubt he’ll be keen to go rolling around out there for a while. You should see this place in the spring, though. The grass is so green, and the fields have patches of clover, and the woods behind the ranch have whole sections covered in purple and yellow flowers. If you think this place is magic now, you’d be certain seeing it then.”
“Do you really think it will snow?”
“Yeah, the forecast says tomorrow or the next day, just in time for you all to get your perfect white Christmas on the ranch.”
“I’m not sure what a perfect Christmas even looks like,” I say before I realize what I’ve said.
“Since you don’t have your family to spend it with? Is that why you brought Wendy here this year?”
“Kind of. Her plans fell through, so she sort of invited herself, but I don’t mind. I should have invited her before.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“She was supposed to see her family.”
“And you didn’t want her to feel like she had to stay with you just because you don’t have family?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I’m glad you both came.”
“You won’t be glad when Wendy tries to steal a piglet to take home with her.”
“She’s seen their mum, right?”
“Yeah, but she thinks it’s like a goldfish; if she keeps it in a small space, it won’t grow that big.”
“That’s not even remotely factual.”
I shrug, the cool air whips around us, and his arms tighten, warming me through.
“Just be sure to count them before we leave.”
“I’ll do that. Hey, you dodged the question about your book. Please tell me. I promise I won’t tell anyone.”
“It’s not that I’m worried you’ll tell anyone, I guess… I’m worried you’ll hate it, and suddenly I won’t be able to write anymore.”
He shifts, unwrapping me from his arms.
“Turn around,” he says, and I wriggle myself around between his legs, holding my knees to my chest.
“Closer,” he says, taking my ankles and lifting my legs to hang over his, then pulls me close enough that my ass is now in his lap and his hands are pressed against the small of my back, radiating heat through my whole body.
“I could never hate something you wrote.”
“Why not? Plenty of people have before.”
“Who?” he asks in almost a throaty, overprotective growl that I don’t hate.
I shrug. “Just people, you know, for the articles I’ve written before, some people don’t like them.”
“Then they can go and get fucked. You aren’t other people’s opinions of you.”
I lift my head for the first time since turning in his lap and find his kind, glistening blue eyes waiting for me.
“You really want to know about my book?”
