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“No wait,” he said. “It’s not an insult. He’s this little bantam chicken. Russell Crow. Really beautiful but mean. He attacks me every morning when I come in the yard.”

“Oh yeah, that sounds like a compliment,” I said sarcastically.

“Let me finish. That guy’s my little buddy. I love him. He’s just protective. He’s taking care of his family. And he’s mostly mean when he’s hungry.” He paused. “Are you hungry?” he asked carefully.

I was hungry. And maybe I was a little crabby too. Things hadn’t exactly been great the last few weeks.

I didn’t reply.

He dug in his pocket and pulled out another Snickers and handed it to me.

“Thanks,” I grumbled, taking it.

“You want some lunch?” he asked. “I was going to make some. My house is just over there.” He nodded to his left.

I narrowed my eyes at him like there was some ulterior motive.

“It’s just lunch,” he said. “If you’re thinking of eating in town, hardly anything’s open, just an FYI. Plus it’s a mile back.”

“You said you have a petting zoo?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

“What’s in it? A bunch of tiny cocks?”

“Russell Crow’s the only tiny cock on my farm.”

He managed to get a laugh out of me.

He was grinning. “I’ve got a miniature donkey, some hens, a couple of rabbits, a baby goat—”

“Let’s go.”

He had me at baby goat.

Doug’s farm was actually adorable. It looked like the kind of place where you could get married. I think some people did.

He walked me around the outside first, showing me the barn and the wood-fired oven he used to cook pizza on Friday and Saturday nights for tourists in the summer. He said people brought their own wine and blankets and lawn chairs and made it a picnic thing.

Doug was kind of a hustler.

Besides the pizza and the petting zoo, he sold eggs and milk to the restaurants in town. He did odd jobs. Kevin Bacon had Doug’s Venmo handle on his vest.

I liked hustle. I respected anyone with a good work ethic.

Doug put Kevin Bacon into the barn.

“Let’s do lunch first,” Doug said, walking me up the steps to his house. “I’ll show you the petting zoo after.”

I didn’t know what I expected, but his house wasn’t it.

It was nice. Like, farmhouse chic but an actual working farmhouse, not the kind someone re-creates in their rambler in a suburb.

He took off his boots at the door and hung his jacket on a nearby hook. When he took the jacket off, my suspicions about the farmer’s body thing were confirmed. Solid muscle. Large biceps and a nicely contoured chest under his black T-shirt.

I could still kill him though if I had to.

He went straight to the kitchen, and I peered around the open floor plan. You could tell a lot about someone by how they lived. The cozy living room had a stone fireplace. There was a buffet table full of pictures behind the sofa. I spotted a framed one of Doug in a military uniform.