“Shit,” he mutters, staring down at his feet. “These boots cost more than most people’s rent. Why does the countryside have to be so fucking messy?” He looks up at me, replacing his scowl with his trademark grin. “Surprise!”
Behind him, Nikko unfolds from the passenger seat.
“You’re early,” I say, but I’m already moving to meet them, the post driver forgotten in the snow. Stone pulls me into a hug that smells of expensive cologne.
“Mom’s redecorating again,” he explains, grimacing. “And you know I’m not compatible with dust. And this one”—he jerks a thumb at Nikko—“was wearing a hole in his apartment floor.”
Nikko shrugs. “Empty calendar makes me twitchy. Plus, your mom’s cooking beats takeout any day.” Then he points at Gouta. “Who’s that?”
“That’s my new workplace supervisor. Pretty useless. Has an attitude and a fashion sense more exquisite than Stone’s,” I joke. Stone leans over to mock-punch me in the gut. “But she’s cute, I guess. Her name’s Gouta.”
As if summoned, Gouta descends from her resting place and comes over like the lap dog she thinks she is.
“Oh my god, she’s adorable,” Nikko says.
Stone gets one look at Gouta and takes a deliberate step backward. “Nope. Absolutely not. I don’t do farm animals. They’re unpredictable and they smell.”
But Gouta has already zeroed in on him like a heat-seeking missile. She trots right up to his expensive boots and begins investigating them with the thorough interest of a customs agent.
“Get it away from me,” Stone says, his voice climbing an octave. “These are Italian leather.”
“She’s just being friendly,” I say, trying not to laugh as Gouta starts nibbling at Stone’s bootlaces. “She has excellent taste in accessories.”
Nikko crouches and extends his hand. Gouta immediately abandons Stone’s boots in favor of Nikko’s attention, nuzzling against his palm like she’s known him for years.
“Traitor,” Stone mutters, then looks around at the scattered fence posts and tools. “So this is what you’re getting busy with these days?”
“I am a farmer,” I say, sounding more defensive than intended. “This is my life now.”
“Right. Well, your life now needs coffee and central heating, so can we go inside? Or even better, let’s hit Joe’s. I can feel my extremities going numb.”
I pick up the post driver and throw it into the back of my truck. “Where’s Fox?”
Stone looks at Nikko and then back at me. “We thought he was here.”
“Here?” I laugh. “Why would he be here?”
“He left California two weeks ago,” Nikko says, his usual swagger dampened by concern. “Like he had ants in his pants that were busier than mine. Just packed his bags and took off.”
The uneasy feeling in my gut grows. Fox is many things, but unpredictable isn’t one of them. Twenty-five years of touringtogether, and I’ve never known him to make an impulsive move. Everything he does is calculated, considered.
“Did he say anything else?” I press, watching Nikko’s face for a tell.
“Just that he’d see us at Thanksgiving,” Nikko admits. “So he should be arriving any time now, I guess.”
“I bet he’s hooking up with someone,” Stone says.
Nikko snorts. “My brother?”
“Just because he doesn’t talk about the guys he fucks, like the rest of us, doesn’t mean he’s not getting any,” Stone says, and I nod my agreement. Some people just happen to be private about their sex lives.
“Weren’t we going to Joe’s?” Nikko asks, changing the subject.
“Man, I’m starving. You know I don’t do plane food, and the thought of Joe’s wings is giving me a boner,” Stone says, heading back to the rental. “We’ll drop this at the house first. No way I’m paying the insurance deductible if someone dings it in Joe’s parking lot.”
I leave Gouta in my cabin, much to her protest, but I tell her it’s the warm cabin or the barn, so she soon settles on the pillow that now lives on my couch just for her Goaty Highness. I drive over to pick up Stone and Nikko from the farmhouse.
I haven’t been in town since the night I ended up bringing Taylen home, so I’m surprised to see Main Street’s Christmas lights already strung between lampposts, despite it not even being Thanksgiving yet.
