And then his father had died, and he’d had Johnny and Danny to think about. And he’d still had Megan, even if their relationship had been on-again, off-again. During his single periods, picking up women was safer and easier, not just because it was more within his comfort zone, but because he was doing it in the various small towns within driving distance of Trace County. He was fairly certain that if he flirted with the wrong man in rural Nebraska, getting into a fistfight was a real possibility.

Anyway, it’s natural for him to register that Lance is attractive. Perfectly natural, even if it would be wildly inappropriate for him to act on that attraction. Even if they didn’t have their particular history—even if they’d just met—Lance is Robbie’s utterly dependent house guest, trapped with Robbie with no means of escape. He couldn’t even hitchhike off the ranch at this point, given the snow and his lack of anything as basic as a coat.

Just because Robbie’s noticed that Lance has grown into a beautiful adult doesn’t mean that Robbie has to do anything about it. Thoughts aren’t actions. He has nothing to feel ashamed about.

His ruminations are interrupted by his cell ringing again. He might have ignored the call, but he recognizes the number as his newest neighbor’s. Even though all of his neighborly advice has been ignored in the past, he still can’t resist the opportunity to suggest, again, that he either fix his fence or move his cattle. So, he answers.

“Hi, Ed. I got a few of your cows back in a half hour ago. Saw them out on the road by my mailbox.”

“Thanks for doing that, Robert! I’m out of town this weekend, actually, so I appreciate you keeping an eye on things.”

Robbie pinches the bridge of his nose. “I wouldn’t go that far, Ed. I just walked them back through the fence they stepped over. I’m not exactly farm-sitting.”

“Still, puts my mind at ease knowing you’re there! Thanks for doing that. Those new cows don’t know the lay of the land yet. I bet they’ll settle in after a week or two.”

“You got someone setting out hay? We’re getting a hell of a lot of snow.” As soon as Robbie says it, he sees the trap he’s laid for himself.

But, miraculously, Ed doesn’t ask him to do his chores or check on his cattle.

“Oh, yeah, my nephew’s staying at the house. He’ll make sure they have the essentials. Thanks, neighbor.”

Just five or six seconds after the call is over, Robbie hears mooing.

When he was a kid, Robbie’s dad ran cattle at Riverside, just like his father did before him. Robbie has fond memories of riding through the meadows to check the herds, and he remembers the cattle as gentle, docile creatures.

But either his memory isn’t as reliable as he thought or Ed sources his cattle directly from hell, because the animals that wander on and off of his property are absolute pests. Robbie comes out of the shed to find a trio of cows. Two red cows are flanking the familiar black, white-belted cow, who has her head wedged determinedly through what had before been a small crack between the closed doors of the metal hay shed up the hill, pushing with all her might.