“I didn’t creep. I was specifically trying not to interrupt your conversation, if you were still on the phone. That’s what we call politeness.” He rolled his eyes. “Now get your damn phone and come eat before all the burgers are gone.”
I looked from the farmhouse—where the food was—to my phone, lying face-up and still shining on the far side of the fence—where the cows were—and bit my lip.
Knox folded his arms over his chest. “Are you trying to call it back to you with the power of your mind?”
“No! I’m… I’m strategizing.”
“Strategizing. M’kay. I’ll let the others know your plate is up for grabs.” He turned on his heel and walked two paces, but when I didn’t follow, he groaned and walked back to me like it was literally costing him two arms and a leg to do it. “Fine, then. What are you strategizing?”
“We don’t have cows where I’m from. I mean, we do. Obviously, there are cows in Florida. But I’ve never had to meet one. So I’m trying to think about the best way to get the phone back… but, like, respectfully.”
“Respectfully?” He tilted his head and looked at me fully.
“You know.” I swallowed. “Being respectful of the animal’s territory. Not provoking the predators to aggression.”
Knox rubbed his palm over his mouth. “You… are aware that cows are vegetarians?”
I blinked. “Obviously, yes.” No. I’d had no idea. “But they could still gore me.” I made horns on the top of my head in demonstration.
He made a strangled sound. “Is it true that you graduated at the top of your class in college?”
“Yes, but I don’t think my intelligence is going to keep them from stampeding me, Knox.” I rolled my eyes.Nowhe wanted to do the whole getting-to-know-you thing? The man had shit timing.
Knox closed his eyes and shook his head slowly before opening them again. “Okay, brainiac, here’s a lesson in cows. First, cows are female. They don’t have horns. A bull might chase you. A single cow generally will not, unless she’s got a calf she’s protecting or you act particularly stupid.”
“Hey! Unfair.”
“For example, this cow here—” he went on, motioning behind me.
I twisted my neck and saw an enormous bovine face mere inches from mine. “Gah! No! Go ’way!” I yelled, jumping around Knox so I could use him as a human shield. My heart beat wildly in my chest.
Knox looked back over his shoulder at me, and the muscle at the corner of his mouth twitched. “Excellent example of stupid behavior. As I was saying,” he went on mildly, “this cow is Stella. She’s maybe a week away from going into labor, so she’s not chasing anything these days except a decent night’s sleep. Isn’t that right?” He stepped toward the fence before I could stop him and rubbed the top of her head.
Stella gave a little huff that might have been agreement… or a warning of an attack.
But Knox didn’t seem to recognize the danger because, after another over-the-shoulder look at me, he reached right through the slats of the fence, picked up my phone, and handed it to me.His fingers brushed my palm, and it felt like I’d stolen something—a little illicit and a little delightful.
“Still working?” He nodded down at the device.
“Huh? Oh. Screen looks fine.” I unlocked it… and gave both of us an eyeful of my Grindr “nearby” dashboard before I immediately turned the phone off again and shoved it in the pocket of my shorts.
Damn it.
I felt my face going hot for no good reason. Who cared if I had Grindr? Who cared if I was chatting with a million guys?
He wants you, precious Gagelet.
Except he didn’t.
“Er… yeah. Seems no worse for wear,” I said belatedly.
“Uh-huh.” There was a distinct thread of amusement in Knox’s voice, which gave me all kinds of conflict-y feels. “Nowcan we eat?”
I nodded silently. My cheeks burned as I followed Knox to the house and then into the big kitchen with its hardwood floors, white cabinets, butcher block counters, and giant oak farmhouse table. Sally Ann, the Sundays’ golden retriever, shook herself up off the floor and showed her love for Knox by nearly tripping him.
“Evening, Gage,” Uncle Drew said cheerfully from his spot at the head of the table. He had his broken ankle propped up on the bench next to him, but otherwise the man was so healthy and fun, he could have passed for Knox’s slightly older brother… if Knox had exponentially less hair, significantly more belly, and a penchant for Jerry Garcia T-shirts. “You remember Marco, right?”
“Sure. Hey, Marco,” I said with a smile.
