I drop the lead rope, prepared to admit defeat, when my ringtone slices through the stillness. I peel off a glove and swipe to answer the video chat, Gemma’s face filling the screen.
She’s sitting cross-legged on a bed, painting her nails. Her black hair is pulled into a braid that hangs over her shoulder, and her oversized sweatshirt swallows her slight frame.
“Morning, Gem.”
“Oh, good, you’re standing. That means your ankle’s better, right?” She purses her lips, giving me a slow, suspicious once-over. “On second thought, that’s kind of a bummer. I had my heart set on a dramatic mountain rescue so I could be there to check out the medics. Figured one of them would be hot.”
“Glad my prolonged suffering wouldn’t have been wasted and might have scored you some eye candy,” I deadpan.
She lifts her left hand, blowing on her freshly painted nails. “Can you blame me? Vermont isn’t exactly overflowing with good-looking men who have stable jobs.”
“What about Crew?” I ask smugly.
She’s been keeping me up on all her holiday drama over text, while I’ve been dodging questions about Shep.
Her family’s close friends who live across the street had plumbing problems, so they’re crashing at her parents’ place. She’s been forced to bunk with their adult son—their rich and handsome son, might I add. They’ve been rivals since childhood, and with their next-level holiday prank war that’s gone on for years, he’s far from boyfriend material in her eyes. Although I secretly think they could make a good pair if they ever managed to stop tormenting each other long enough to actually talk.
“That man should be counting his days,” she mumbles under her breath.
I pace through the crunchy snow as we chat, an old habit I’ve never managed to shake.
“What did he do now?”
“Yesterday he covered all my clothes in wrapping paper and spent breakfast grinning at me from across the table.” She glances across her room like she’s making sure he’s not around before leaning in and whispering, “But he won’t be so smug when he logs into his laptop and sees a warning about a catastrophic North Pole Virus. Extremely serious stuff that can take days if not weeks to repair.”
I give an exaggerated shiver. “Note to self: Never cross you if I want my computer intact.”
“Don’t worry, if you did, my revenge options would be limited since you’re my boss. Someone’s gotta pay for my Hermèsaddiction.” Gemma winks before her expression shifts into one of shock. “Is that a Highland cow behind you?” she squeals.
I frown, glancing down to see Maple rooting at my coat pocket, the rope dragging behind her. I take a few steps back,and sure enough, she trots after me. It seems walking away is what gets her moving.
“This is Maple,” I tell Gemma, crouching to angle the camera so she can see her better. “I’ve been trying to leash train this one so I can take her back to the cabin, but apparently the trick is to ignore her.”
“She totally has to join a podcast episode,” Gemma exclaims as she blows on the nails on her right hand.
I bite back a laugh. “Sure. She can dish on all the barnyard drama. I’ve heard it puts reality TV to shame.”
Honestly, it’s not even close to Gemma’s wildest ideas. There was the time she suggested I interview a professional clown to share confidence tips, or when she pitched having an influencer to come on the show who matched women with prisoners.
“Haven’t you seen the guy on social media who films videos at home with his pet cow? Chaos always ensues, and he goes viral every time. That’s just a dairy cow—Maple’s even more adorable with that fluffy little head. No one watching your live stream would survive the cuteness overload.”
I playfully cover Maple’s ears. “Don’t listen to her, girl. I’d never use you for fame and fortune.”
“You’ve gone full Snow White, except the woodland creatures have been replaced with farm animals.” Gemma caps the nail polish bottle and puts it on her nightstand. “Did that silver fox cowboy finally have his way with you?” She waggles her brows. “It would explain why you’re strolling through the woods wearing his clothes and that goofy grin.”
I duck my head, pretending to adjust my sleeve.
Gemma lets out a delighted gasp. “Oh my god. You totally got laid, didn’t you? You’re practically glowing.”
“I might have,” I say, laughing softly.
She bounces on the bed, waving her hands in the air. “This is the greatest news ever. My best friend was finally fucked by a real man. Hallelujah.”
My cheeks flush, and I quickly look around to make sure Shep isn’t nearby to overhear.
I shake my head, giving an amused snort. “I’ll never get over how proud you are of my sexcapades.”
“Only when it means you’re probably going to move to the middle of nowhere, exclusively wear Carhartt, and have adorable cowboy babies,” she explains cheerfully, reclining on the pillows propped up against her headboard.
