Page 171 of Checking Out the Librarian

“Hmm. Yes, his house.” Her carefully neutral voice didn’t fool him for one second, not even one.

“Here.” He handed her a roller. “Be quiet and paint.”

She tapped the soft fuzzy side to her forehead and knocked her heels together. “Yessir. Right away, sir.”

After his morning chat with Jess, Connor enjoyed a day riding fence with his sister while his father did equipment maintenance.

In near ninety-degree heat, they took it very slow and easy and gave their mounts long breaks in the shade. Jess hadn’t minded that he kept sneaking looks at his phone, but eventually they ended up back at the house as dinner approached. Jess volunteered to finish up the watering and left him to help Mom in the kitchen.

“Holding up under the hardship of all this honest work?” His mother must have spotted his wince as he reached for a water glass in the upper cabinet. Her grin was more amused than concerned.

“Yep.” Running around as a soccer ref and squatting behind home plate to ump were in no way equal to hours in the saddle interrupted by fencing work. Arm curls were good for the way he looked, but repairing fences damaged by elk or weather or stupid heifers was another level.

“So, you want to take charge of the flank steak?”

Had he been promoted to the grill position? “What about Dad?”

“He’s fixing the screens on the coop. Slowly.” She rolled her eyes. “I don’t want the potatoes to be finished before the grill is even heated.”

The pecking order must not be yielding space for his father today. Given that his dad preferred talking to animals over people, it would be funny to eavesdrop on him and the hens.

“You’re calling up the minor leaguer to be the starting grill tender?” He pressed his fist to his chest and then pumped it in the air. “I appreciate the confidence, and I’ll try my best to be worthy of this historic moment.”

“Don’t forget to season them.”

“I got it. Salt, pepper and the Connor special worstsure—worster—wooster—whatever sauce. That stuff. With soy and garlic.”

“Look at my city boy. Fancy steak!” She flicked a fresh green bean across the space between them.

“Hey!” He caught it in the air and tossed it right back. “It’s your marinade!”

They were both laughing as he went out to start the grill. The light feeling buoyed him through dinner, and the familiar give and take about ranch life and local people and all the nothing-much that his family batted around happily. Day after tomorrow, it would be time to rotate the head into a different pasture, then after that, a light harrowing of the empty pastures to break up and spread the manure the herd had left.

All very predictable, even comfortable, until eventually he was stretched out on his old double bed with the nine p.m. twilight filtering through his window, amazed he could be this sore without having ridden fifty miles on Jonathan’s damn bike.

He was also tired. And needy. And so, it seemed, was his Jonathan.

Jonathan

I need another photo

Connor

Need is a strong word

Jonathan

You’ve been away for days. I have strong needs

Connor

Two days

One pont five days

Point 1.5 you know what I mean

But here