The Bequest
Chapter 35—Amanda

"You take yours black?" I ask him.

He shrugs. "I'm lazy and not very organized. I kind of got used to it by default."

I shouldn't care, but for some reason, drinking his coffee black makes him seem even more manly. Stupid, I know. "So where are we walking?" I'm speaking at barely above a whisper. "You don't have to keep your voice low," he says.

"But you still are," I point out.

"Apparently it's only my 'strident tone' that agitates her John Cabot roses. You could probably screech like a banshee and she wouldn't mind."

"Terribly grating voice." I pretend to write a note on something. "I'll have to remember that." I scribble again. "Kills plants."

He bumps me with his hip.

"Whoa," I say. "Don't make me spill. This town may have a vet, but the closest human doctor is forty-five miles away, apparently." "Nah, Steve's right around the corner."

I stop walking. "So you knew he was a doctor?"

Eddy frowns. "Everyone knows that. They call him the Horse Doc, as in, even though he's a doc, he still loves horses more."

"Yes, that was very clear from the name." I roll my eyes.

"I guess I didn't think much about it-I'll strive to be more clear. I'm a vet, which is short for veterinarian. That's like a doctor, but for animals."

"And you're also the local comedian, I take it."

"Sadly, most people don't find me very funny."

"Do you tell them you'll call and then not?" I arch one eyebrow.

He slows down. "I did call."

"You know what I mean." I sigh. "But I actually had an ulterior motive in calling you today. Normally I wouldn't have dreamed of calling some guy who didn't call me." "An ulterior motive?" His eyes look almost hurt.

"My nephew begged me," I say, and this time I'm speaking softly because it's hard to admit.

"I'm glad he did."

"Here's the thing," I say. "We got a letter, almost ten days ago, but we're just now checking the mail. It hadn't really occurred to us that we were in charge of that sort of thing."

"Okay."

"It looks like a computer-generated notice, but it basically said that our permit was canceled, and now we can't send any cows up to the Forest Service land."

"And good old doctor Steve told you to ask for my help." Eddy frowns. "I don't know whether to punch him or thank him."

"Why would you thank him?"

"Isn't that obvious?" He locks eyes with me and I forget my own name. "But I hate when people use me to get to my dad."

"It's strange that you say 'people,' as in, this has happened before. Lots of people have used you to get to your dad, the park ranger?"

"It's a cow town," he says. "I remember the very first time it happened. I was sitting in the cafeteria in third grade, eating a very dry, very gross peanut butter sandwich my mom had made, and a kid showed up with a cup of noodles, piping hot. It smelled so good."

"You're kidding."

He shakes his head. "His parents had clearly made it and rushed it to the school. The kid, someone I'd known for my entire life, handed it to me, and then he asked me if I would talk to my dad about increasing their permitted numbers by twenty." "Did you?"

Eddy grimaces. "I'm an idiot who was paid with a contraband cup of noodles, so of course I did."

"It didn't work?"

He shakes his head. "I got a whipping for it, but otherwise, no."

I'm not loving his dad. "Really?"

"Dad's a real stickler."

"But in this case, the person who should have applied died, and we weren't even here yet. That letter was postmarked the day before Abigail even arrived. Surely there's some kind of exception for, I don't know? Death and clerical errors or something." I narrow my eyes. "And in case I haven't yet mentioned this, I make a mean cup of noodles."

He shakes his head. "Alright. I'll ask."

"You will?" Something occurs to me. "But you said the last time you tried to help, you got a whipping and they didn't get the approval."

"Oh, that was the first time, not the last time. I'm quite a bit smarter about it now. I never tell my dad I got paid to ask." He winks, and then he pulls out his phone. "Whoa, are you going to call him right now?"

He tilts his head. "Did you want me to call him, say, in a month? Or perhaps a year?"

"Don't you think this might be better done in person?"

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"Well." He leans in closer and presses a finger to my nose. "When you're as beautiful as you, yes. But when you're a son asking his dad for a favor? The phone is just as good. Maybe even better, as long as the dad doesn't hear the voice of, say, a gorgeous woman prompting him. I'd hate for him to know there's something far better than a cup of noodles involved."

I swat his arm as he presses talk. At first he wanders away-a dozen yards or so. He's kicking anthills while talking, and it's so cute that I can't help snapping a few photos. I'm shocked that there's actually reception here, so I edit one and upload it.

'Still a kid at heart,' is my caption. I tag it with #KickingAntHills #GiddyUp #AlwaysABoyInside #SweetCowboy #Stirring UpTrouble and #MyHotCowboy. With his phone obscuring his face, you can't see anything clearly but his hair: a little tousled, a little overgrown, and perfectly shiny in the morning sun.

"Okay." He slides his phone into his pocket. "Do you want the good news or the bad news?"

"What does that mean?"

He smacks his forehead. "I almost forgot the subject of payment," he says. "I can't possibly tell you how it went until we've worked that out. You might stiff me." "Payment?"

"Obviously my fee has gone up since the cup of noodles incident, and I want more than a walking coffee date." He grins.

Oh.

"I was thinking two dinners and a hike."

"A hike?"

"You drive a hard bargain, Mrs. Brooks." He shoves his hands in his pockets. "I would be willing to nix the hike."

"What if you're awful and I hate you?" I shake my head. "One dinner."

"Done."

"That was fast," I say.

"You got taken." He bites his lip. "I'd have settled for just this walking coffee date."

I roll my eyes. "Just tell me what he said." I'm surprised by how badly I want to be the hero back home.

"The good news is that he's going to renew the permit."

I whoop a few times before I realize we aren't that far from the scowling gardener.

"The bad news is that it had nothing to do with my call."

"Nothing? Really? Why did he renew it, then?"

"Apparently some horrifyingly scary woman called and cited a dozen regulations and then sent a follow-up email that included an applicable exception to the rule, and the penalties for not granting a renewal after the death of a permit holder."

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Abigail.

Of course.

It's always Abigail who does everything.

"I'm not obligated-"

"Ah, ah, ah," he says. "Not how it works. A cup of noodles was offered, a cup of noodles will be paid."

I huff. "I'm not sure"

He sidles closer, and my heart races. "Now, Miss Amanda, I'd hate to think you weren't a lady of your word."

I back up a step, but he keeps coming, his scuffed boots grinding against the gravel.

"My father was called, and I groveled, just as I said I would. You even got what you wanted. The fact that it wasn't because of me "

I've bumped into a large tree, and I can't really get around it-there's an entire forest of pine trees behind me. I hold out my hand to keep him from running right into me, and as he moves toward me, my palm flattens against his chest. And his clearly defined, rather large pecs.

Really nice muscles on a man may be my biggest turn on. "Well."

His bright green eyes never leave mine. "You're not backing out, are you?"

I swallow. "I suppose not."

He exhales gustily. "Oh, good."

"But I do have one question."

"Shoot."

"With all that talk earlier, I just want to be sure."

He lifts his eyebrows.

"We're not actually having instant noodles for dinner, right?"

His laughter is one of the most beautiful sounds I've ever heard.