TWO

Stone

There was nothing more peaceful after a hard morning of chores than kicking back in solitude.

Just a man and his chickens.

Or rather chicken, singular, since the rest were outside scratching in the dirt and grass. Only one remained in the coop, diligently concentrating on her egg-laying duty inside the nesting box.

I leaned my back against the wall, bent one knee and planted a boot on the bale of straw where I sat. 

Propping the iPad on my thigh, I scrolled idly through the Mudville community bulletin board.

I was surrounded by blissful silence except for the soft coos of the hen. In heaven . . . until I stumbled upon one post that ruined that peace.

Bronxboy: I swapped out the bulb that came with the heat lamp for my chicken coop for an LED. Chickens are happy and I get to save on electric costs. Win-win.

I couldn’t frown hard enough at what I’d just read. I generally tried to not comment on the forum but when I saw something this ridiculous, I had to intervene.

Shaking my head, I started poking out a two-fingered reply.

Anonymous: Bronx Boy, you do realize that unlike the bulb the heat lamp came with when you purchased it, an LED bulb won’t provide any warmth at all for your chicken coop, right? If you just want light to extend the laying season then fine, use an LED, but if you’re thinking you can keep your coop warm this winter with an LED, your IQ equals that of your chickens.

I stared at my comment and then thought better of that last part about his IQ. My main goal was to save the poor chickens that had the misfortune of belonging to this idiot from a dangerously cold winter. Not to insult him.

Deleting the last half of that sentence, I replaced it with you’re wrong and posted my comment.

Satisfied I’d done my civic duty, I scrolled on. 

One post caught my eye. It was obviously from a fellow supporter of the Mudville High School Football team, the Hogs. As an alumnus and past member of the team myself, I had to read it.

GoHogs!: So I told my girlfriend I was going to the hunting cabin with the guys for the weekend of the big squirrel hunt and she said fine. But now she’s acting all ticked off. Chicks. Am I right?

I actually laughed out loud at this guy’s ignorance. He must be young, judging by how little he knew about women.

Shaking my head, I let out a sigh and hit the screen to comment. 

Anonymous: Dude! Never believe a woman when she says everything is fine. It’s a trick. She expects you to know something is wrong even if she pretends it isn’t. Then when you don’t figure it out, because we’re not flipping mind readers, she gets extra ticked off. You hear that word fine again, go on high alert. Assume she means the opposite and then kiss her ass if you ever want to get laid again.

I reread my reply before posting, checking for errant auto-corrects and spelling and grammar.

That’s what dating a professional author will do to a guy. I loved Harper but damned if her correcting my grammar isn’t the quickest boner killer ever.

It happened only once and I never let it happen again. Now I was so careful about choosing my words you’d think I was a damn college professor rather than a farmer.

Finding nothing obviously wrong—at least to me, though Harper might have other opinions—I posted my comment.

I was about to keep scrolling to see what other idiocy I could find—and correct—when I heard the crunch of boots outside.

Shit. I looked around for somewhere to hide the iPad. There weren’t a whole lot of choices inside the chicken coop. I could slide it behind the bale, but with my luck, whoever was coming could be here to grab some straw. Then I’d be exposed. 

My gaze landed on the nesting box, and the salt and pepper colored Brahma sitting inside.

“Sorry, girl.” With that apology, I shoved the iPad under her and the straw she nestled in and spun to face the door just in time to see my brother Cashel walk in.

“Here you are. I’ve been looking everywhere. What in blazes are you doing in the chicken coop?”

“Just checking for eggs,” I lied.

The truth was, our coop was nicer than some people’s houses. Bright and airy because of all the windows. High enough that even at six feet tall I could stand up inside. 

And during the day when the chickens were all out grazing, it was the perfect place for me to hide from my brothers and my work for half an hour or so. The bales of straw stacked along the wall made a good enough seat. And the WiFi from the house reached here so the iPad could connect to the internet.

When Harper had given me her old iPad because she’d gotten a newer, bigger, better one, I’d thanked her and then tossed it aside, figuring I’d probably never use it.

So fine. I’d been wrong about that. I could admit it to myself, but no way in hell was I going to admit it to my girlfriend. Just like I didn’t want my brothers to know about my hiding spot or my new obsession with the Mudville forum.

Speaking of annoying brothers—I moved toward the coop’s door where mine still hovered with the dog at his heels. “Why were you looking for me? What’s up?”

“Boone called a family meeting.”

I frowned. “Since when does Boone call family meetings?” 

Boone was the youngest of us, if we didn’t count Bart, the foster kid we’d taken in recently.

Compared to Cash and me, Boone was far less invested in the Morgan family business. He’d get his chores done as quickly as possible, but after that, he’d rather pick up odd jobs in town than stick around and help do anything extra on the farm or at the market.

Hell, he’d even taken a job as a damn nanny. Although we all knew that had less to do with his trying to get away from the farm and more to do with the hottie who’d hired him to watch her three-year-old nephew.

Cash shrugged at my question. “Who cares who asked for it? A family meeting means Mom will have baked something and she’ll have a fresh pot of coffee on. We get to sit around in the kitchen doing nothing for a bit without Dad scowling at us like we’re lazy.”

I bobbed my head at that truth—which was one of the reasons for my hiding spot in the first place.

Well, that, and so my brothers wouldn’t see me playing around on the little pink iPad Mini that used to belong to my girlfriend. 

Okay, so the color was actually called Rose Gold, according to Harper.

Whatever. It looked pink to me and it would to my brothers too. There was no doubt in my mind about that.

After one last glance back at my chicken-camouflaged hiding spot, I turned and said, “All right. Let’s go.”

Side-by-side, Cash and I walked toward the house.

The few leaves that had already fallen crunched beneath our work boots, reminding me that we were already in autumn, and winter was just around the corner.

That thought reminded me of the idiot trying to keep his chickens warm with an LED, which made me want to check the forum and see if city boy had responded. And that reminded me I had better remember later to retrieve the iPad from where I’d hidden it under the chicken.

By the time I’d finished all that thinking, we were at the door of the house and Cash was halfway inside, just steps behind Romeo, who’d trotted in and headed directly for his food and water bowls on the floor. 

Following, I saw we were the last to arrive. Mom and Dad sat at the table where there was, as Cash predicted, what looked like apple turnovers.

The aroma of fresh brewed coffee sent me in the opposite direction, toward the coffee pot on the counter where Boone leaned.

“You called a family meeting?” I sent him a sideways glance as I reached for a mug in the cabinet.

While Boone stretched to grab another mug from the high shelf in response to Cash’s outstretched hand, which I’d ignored, he nodded. “Yeah. Why? I’m not allowed to call a family meeting?”

I lifted one shoulder and didn’t comment. I’d leave it to Mom and Dad to decide if whatever Boone had to say was worth halting all work on the farm.

Moving toward the table, I leaned over to claim a turnover before Cash got to them. Fresh baked goods moved fast in our house. 

While I was there, I pressed a quick kiss to the top of my mother’s head. “Thanks for baking, Mom.”

“Sure, sweetie.” She smiled. “I can give Harper the recipe, if you want.”

I stifled a laugh. “Uh, yeah. Sure. If you want.”

I kept my real comment to myself. That my mother was delusional if she thought Harper was going to make homemade apple turnovers.

She wasn’t the type to wander into the kitchen, throw on an apron and whip up some pastry from scratch. And with a professional baker as one of her best friends, she didn’t have to. 

Since I’d never lacked for something sweet at Agnes’s house where Harper lived, I wasn’t worried about my girlfriend’s lack of interest in baking.

I took the empty seat at the kitchen table next to my mother to wait for Cash to sit and Boone to start talking. This was his show, after all.

“Do you know what Boone wants to talk about?” my mother asked.

“No. You don’t?” I glanced up from the flaky remains of my turnover crust.

“No.” She shook her head.

Cash pulled out the chair next to me, scraping it against the floor with a loud noise before he collapsed his body into it.

He reached for the plate in the center of the table and pulled the whole thing toward himself, looking like he might hunker down and finish it all.

I raised my brows and stared at him. I received a scowl in return as he took one and then shoved the plate back to the center of the table.

Boone had cleared his throat and, still standing, hovered nearby.

Dad, seated on the other side of Mom, tipped his head. “Go on, son. What’s on your mind?”

My youngest brother cleared his throat. “So you know Sarah’s awards dinner was Saturday—”

“Which was why Cash and I had to cover your chores all last weekend so you could spend Saturday night and all day Sunday at her place,” I pointed out.

“Yes. Thank you.” Boone rolled his eyes, which didn’t exactly lend a whole lot of sincerity to his thanks.

“She was nominated for an award, wasn’t she?” Mom asked. “Did she win?”

I wasn’t sure if Boone’s girlfriend winning some advertising award last weekend was just cause to call a family meeting, but since I was here, and there was coffee and pastries, I decided to keep my mouth shut.

“Her company did win.” Boone nodded.

“How nice for her. She must be so excited.” Mom’s exuberance was cut short by Boone raising one hand.

“That’s not why I called the meeting.”

“Thank goodness for that,” Cash mumbled.

I echoed Cash’s opinion with a sniff of my own as Boone continued, “I, uh, asked Sarah to marry me. And she said yes.”

Silence met that announcement.

Of all the things I thought Boone might say, that wasn’t one of them.

Even Mom seemed out of things to gush about. But Cash wasn’t without words.

“She knocked up?” he asked.

“No. Jeez.” Boone glared at Cash.

“Then why get married? You’re only twenty-six.” I pointed out.

“Twenty-seven,” he corrected. “And that’s older than Mom and Dad were when they got married.”

“Things were different in the old days,” Cash countered.

Mom shot him a frown. “Old days? It wasn’t that long ago.”

I gave up on arguing his age and switched to my next objection. “You haven’t even been dating a year yet.”

“Yes, we have. We were already dating for last year’s Autumn Fest.”

Mom finally recovered from her shock and stood. She walked to Boone and wrapped her arms around him. “That’s wonderful news, baby. I’m very happy for you and Sarah.”

While Cash and I both stayed glued to our chairs, Dad stood and shook Boone’s hand. “Congratulations, son. I wish you all the luck in the world.”

“Can you let me tell Bart when he gets home from school? I want him to hear it from me, but I didn’t want to wait too long to tell you all. We'd planned to get you all together for dinner or something this weekend and make the official announcement. But you know how this town is. Sarah's back in town today and I figured one of the gossips might see her ring and then everyone would know before I had a chance to tell you myself.”

“Jesus. He even got her a ring?” Cash mumbled.

“Frigging show off,” I hissed under my breath, which was answered by a short humph of agreement from Cash.

“Of course you can tell Bart,” Mom said, still too involved in her conversation with Boone to notice her two eldest sons were not on board with this whole thing. “Have you thought about a date?” she asked.

That was my mother, right on top of organizing everything.

“Maybe Christmas,” Boone supplied one more detail to ruin my day.

Meanwhile, I couldn’t get past thinking about how this would affect me. As Boone, Mom and Dad discussed dates and locations and whatever else weddings entailed, I didn’t hear most of it as my mind spun.

My little brother was getting married. Before me. Before Cash. And after only dating Sarah for a year.

Meanwhile, I’d been with Harper for twice that. And Cash had been dating Red for just a few months less than us.

Crap. This was not going to go over well.

“I’m screwed,” I said, mostly to myself.

Cash let out a snort. “Good chance we both are.”