They’re kinda cute to watch for the first couple of minutes, but then they settle down, sniffing at the roped-off fence in between playful bouts with each other.

“This is rather anticlimactic,” I tell Jude when he approaches us, watching the baby bovines frolic.

Jude is unconcerned. “They’re adorable though, aren’t they?”

The one in the blue bell is right next to us, and it decides at that moment to drop a steaming pile of crap.

In one of the squares I selected.

“Yes!” I crow. “I have a U.”

“That’s one letter for Fitz Moreland!” Jude calls out.

Reese purses her lips for a second, then stalks over to the other side of the tarp and starts talking softly to one of the calves and whistling at it.

“Hey, no interfering with the cows, that’s cheating!” I call over to her.

“Jude never said we couldn’t entice the calves to one of our squares.”

“She’s right,” Jude says. “Cows are stubborn creatures, anyway, she won’t get it to—”

“I have a J!” she calls out.

“Well, I’ll be.”

And so, we spend the next twenty minutes cajoling the cows to various squares in the hopes they’ll poop and get us the letters we need. We’re at a tie, each only needing one final letter.

“If you come over here, cow, I’ll never eat veal again,” I say to the cow with the red bell.

“Moo,” he responds.

“Stop bribing the calves.”

“You started it.”

Our bickering gets the cow all twitchy and then he poops. And it’s right in the square I need.

“I have a D!” I lift both hands in the air.

“We have a winner for the fourth round of Bedlam!” Jude announces into the megaphone.

People cheer and crowd toward me. Jude hands off the key, and I catch a glimpse of Reese’s back as she disappears toward the house.

Where is she going?

A few guys clap me on the back with offers of beer, but I wave them off and follow the path Reese made. I don’t want her to leave. I want to talk to her more, see what she thinks now that we’re tied in the competition. And I just . . . want to be around her.

I catch up with her near the back door. “Hey, I know I interfered with your time in the room when you won, and I wanted to let you know I’m willing to share.”

Her cheeks flush before I realize how that sounds. “I mean, not like share like that, but you know the way we did . . . before.” I grimace and rub the back of my head. “This isn’t coming out right.”

She laughs. “I get what you’re saying, and while I appreciate the offer, I think I’ll take the floor if it’s okay with you.”

“The floor?”

“Yeah. I can scrounge up some extra blankets and pillows, make it real cozy. You’ll have to make sure you don’t step on my head.”