“Argh,” she replied.
“When we finish up at the dairy, I want you to get some eggs for Shay.”
“I don’t need eggs.”
“Obviously you do,” he said.
“I don’t even like eggs for breakfast,” I said.
“I don’t like bare eggs,” Gennie said. “But Noah mixes up the eggs with cheese and bacon and all the other good stuff, and puts it on a sandwich, and that’s good shit.”
The four-wheeler was loud enough to drown out my laugh. “Bare eggs,” I repeated.
“The first time she said it, I thought she was sayingbeareggs. Like grizzly bear. I tried to explain that bears don’t have eggs and she told me bare eggs are real and disgusting, and, well, we got donuts that morning. Those first few weeks together were unreal.”
“It must’ve been hard,” I said, low enough that little ears wouldn’t hear. “Being thrown together like that.”
He nodded and shot a quick look over his shoulder. “I didn’t know what I was doing. Still don’t.”
“Yes, you do. You’re just fishing for compliments.”
A smile passed over his face. “I would never.”
“Are you sure about that? You weren’t fishing for compliments when I tried to tell you that your friend Christiane won’t stay away because you’re rocking that hot uncle vibe real hard?”
“I—no.” He shook his head, and if I wasn’t mistaken, his ears were turning red.Interesting.“That’s not what happened.”
“Good clarification.”
He reached over as if he was going to touch me but then fisted his hand and dropped it to his thigh. “I don’t think I thanked you for everything. At the game.”
“You did.” I watched that blush climb up his neck.Very interesting.“Two loaves of bread is more than enough thanks.”
He drove over a rise and down a gentle slope, and a long blue-gray barn came into view. Several other buildings stood nearby, along with at least twenty of the same black-and-white cow trucks I’d run across on my first day in town.
“Cows ahoy,” Gennie called.
“Remember the rules,” Noah said to her.
“I know. I know, I know,” she sang, bouncing in her seat.
To me, he said, “You too. Wander away from me and there will be consequences.”
I stared at him. I wanted to say something but no words could be found.
High school Noah was sweet.Sosweet. Quiet, helpful to a fault. He never made growly demands or bit off orders. High school Noah would sooner break-dance naked in front of our entire graduating class than warn me about consequences for not following his directions.
And yet, I didn’t mind the bossy vibe. It was like that sweet, quiet boy had found a rumbly, grumbly voice. And some seat belt snapping and an absurd insistence I couldn’t be trusted in his barn.
Shy. This man was shy. While also being enormously bossy.
So very interesting.
The four-wheeler bumped onto pavement and we cut a wide loop around the parking lot before stopping at the main doors to the barn. From here, we could see the distinctive black-and-white of the cows munching on hay.
“We have a hundred and eighty-four cows,” Gennie said. “And they’re milked twice a day. At four and four.”
Noah trailed his hand up my hip, releasing the seat belt. I glanced down, staring at the spot where his knuckles pressed against my sundress.
