While it was nice to visit home now and again, getting stuck with chores on the ranch was his least favorite thing about coming back. It was like he was a teenager again, roughhousing with his brothers as they fed the horses, trying not to make too much noise. It was a good time to catch up on the local gossip. For example, Ben did not know that Christy Bartman (Andrew’s old girlfriend) was knocked up and ready to push out kid number two.

Sometimes it was nice to not be so involved with the local chatter. Heaven knew Ben had made enough headlines over the years to not need it now.

Danielle was supposed to get in that afternoon. According to Bell, Dani had been nothing but elusive since landing her big job back before the summer began. She was always busy working on something, but could never divulge what that was. Not that Ben really wanted to know. He’d probably fake interest while focusing on the good food in front of them. Just thinking about it made his stomach grumble.

After the animals were taken care of, the boys had gone back inside for a quick wash up. Ben took the time to rouse Emily after his quick shower, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her neck. “Good morning, sleepyhead.” Even if it was just eight in the morning. The smirk was playful and loose before he pulled back, lying down on the guest bed beside her. His old room had been turned into the guest room, much to Ben’s dismay. There were pastels that didn’t belong in a man’s room, no matter the fact that he no longer lived there.

Ben scratched at his beard, which was coming in just in time for winter. With November nearly done, he would have to start preparing his own home for snow and cold nights. Hay was stacked and wood mostly chopped, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be a little more concerned with his food stockpile, or his minimalist plumbing. The outdoor shower was not an option, once fall was in full de-bloom.

“Today is all about cooking.” He grinned as his hand pat his stomach. His second favorite holiday, next to the firecrackers of the Fourth of July. “Breakfast is buttermilk biscuits and gravy, bacon, eggs, and coffee.” He’d already snuck a piece of bacon after distracting his momma with tales of the morning.

Emmylou had never actually been woken by a rooster, however much of a universal sign for 'alarm clock' it happened to be. She had always smiled it off as a thing in stories about the old days, or something in the quaint lives of herbologists and beast keepers. Not that there was much quaintness about a man who wrestled beasts for a living. Or rode them. And the quaint things she had discovered— his taste in showers, the perfect, unfancy standard of coffee, and the blush that she sometimes caught in his cheeks— were things that made her grin like an idiot.

But full-on rooster mode was a new one. And the complete opposite of ‘quaint.’

It had been equal parts hilarious and devastating to be stirred from a sleep at three in the morning by a cocky bird. The young witch was only lucky that she had barely fallen asleep in the first place. Pre-gaming for Thanksgiving was a real thing, and so was American whiskey. After the initial shock— bolting up and nearly bruising Ben with an elbow in the process— it had been easy laugh, settle back down, and fall right back into a slumber, mumbling into his skin about eating other sorts of birds for the holiday. Brits didn’t have Thanksgiving, so why couldn’t she start the tradition of rooster roasting?

At five, when he left to do those quaint farm things, Lou rolled over into his spot to soak up the warmth in the girly sheets he’d generously shared with her. She didn’t understand why the things they did before dawn couldn’t be done in the sunlight, but she’d been too tired and a little hungover to ask.

But now, the third and final wakeup seemed to be the real deal. And Emmylou was still fighting it.

“Mmm,” she answered, shaking her head, eyes still closed against the sun pouring in at an angle that seemed offensive. “You smell like soap,” she added, popping one eye open to look at him. “The good kind.” She turned toward the pillow— convenient for his lips on her neck— deciding that even if she was groggy, it was a nice annoyance. Scratchy beard and all. She grinned, shaking a bit with laughter as it tickled her. “I think you’re a fraud. No mud or anything,” she said, bucking up a little against his weight.

Slowly she turned her face away from the pillow and up toward him. “The words buttermilk or bacon will always summon me.” Arms slid around the back of his neck, hanging loose. “Buttermilk bacon turkey for lunch? After breakfast…” Her brows rose and she leaned up quickly to peck his nose. But she really wanted to brush her teeth and splash water on her face. He had her beat, with that shower-y feeling. “I brought a few gifts for the feast,” she added wickedly. “But first we'd better let your mother enlist us, since she’s probably been slaving away trying to feed 800 boys and horses. And that terrible person you call a rooster.”

So far, everything about Benjamin Dover’s mother had been completely endearing. From her questions, to the way she and her family had reacted to Emmylou’s accent, to her accent, that sweet Georgia sound that nevertheless held words and phrases that reminded Lou of her Montana-bred son.

After living away from home for so long, it always took Ben a night or two to get used to the roosters and their horrid noises that started long before dawn would come. He’d been so tired after finally passing out, however, that they only disturbed his sleeping partner. The elbow had him twitchy, but he grinned, sleepily, before his arms wrapped around her. The windows were shut against the freezing temperatures, and the heaters were kicking out warmth that didn’t quite reach the wood floors. Under the blankets and curled around Emmylou, however, had kept Ben cozy for the short sleep he got.

Getting up before the sun in the winter time was the worst. Everything tried to shrink up into his warm body as he danced about for clothes on his tip toes, being quiet as possible so that Emily could get some more sleep. The coffee brewing in the kitchen was just what the doc ordered, and the first scalding gulp instantly began warming him up.

An upside to getting out when it was cold was that you worked extra hard to build up the sweat and heat of movement. With three grown men working on the feedings, it allowed his folks to take it easy while preparing food for the day’s thanks.

Back in the room with Emily, hard labor a distant memory, he laughed and pressed himself down into her a little more. What soap wasn’t the good kind? “I’ll show you mud later.” The snow and dirt with a little tough love from the family farm truck could turn an afternoon into something a lot messier than expected. Eyes trailed over her face and down what he could see before slowly making their way back up. “I want a side of Emily for breakfast.” He bit down gently into her shoulder, laughing before shifting off her slightly.

“Oh?” Eyebrow rose in consideration, smirking. His mother could feed all those boys and horses and still have time to straighten up after them. “The rooster makes the hens happy, which in turn... makes breakfast.” Ben poked at her side; just in case she didn’t understand how chickens and eggs worked.

He pulled himself up and stretched before assisting the woman in his bed. “For food, then.” A fresh pair of jeans were pulled up. Ben tucked everything in before wrestling on a mostly clean white shirt, which he checked first to make sure it was breakfast suitable with a quick sniff. “Maybe we should make you milk the cow before you can eat. Some farm skills might be handy.” Ben grinned as he sat down on the side of the bed, pulling on some fresh socks, followed quickly by some boots.

Lastly, he pulled his flannel on, feeling warmer already.

They had traveled by wings, wheels, and winding mountain roads in the past couple of days alone. The hop across the Atlantic and then across the US had come with a kind of time zone magic that tested both Emmylou’s energetic spirit and love of laziness. Her first plane trip had been an ordeal— one captured grandly to make George jealous. But by the end of it, Lou had never been happier to stretch her legs. Babies on planes were a rival for roosters.

Luckily, portkeys were a bit quicker than planes. But a little less fun than trucks. Already Lou had played passenger to her gruff gentleman friend while he drove in an oversized truck on the wrong side of the road and showed her the various landmarks of his childhood. Finding new and creative places to ‘claim’ in such a big little place was a shockingly hard creative undertaking.

They had some catching up to do in Ben’s hometown.

Now, in the warmth of the covers and his arms, she felt plenty content. She wasn’t sure how many epic things had happened in his mum’s floral sheets, anyway.

“Oh, really? Are you going to take me ice-skating in it?” Lou had never seen so much cold looking mud, and that included London sidewalks after the occasional snow storm. Her question came breathy and daring, but the young man pressing down into her was a distraction from any wild plans outside of the bedroom.

Still pushing teasingly up toward him, she watched his eyes. Just before he found a weak spot— her neck— her own eyes said she knew what he was on about. The thrill of his mouth had Emmylou shivering… and scrunching up in hushed laughter. Hands shot up under the pretty blanket, cupping his cheeks with cheeky reproach. He looked so good trapped in the bits of blanket. “Emily,” she said, mimicking him— if Ben happened to be a very strict motherly type. “Is only for after you clear your plate.”

But not really. That sounded like some rule Nolan would come up with.

She dropped the blankets and began to shift a bit under him, sitting up a little and letting the softness pool between them. “I don’t need a lesson on the birds and the bees and the chickens,” she insisted, suppressing a laugh from the poke, and shifting legs out from under the blanket. Sitting up fully now, she settled arms around his neck. “Just a good Silencio.” The word was said with dramatic sluggishness, a whisper with exaggerated mouth and eyes as she let him drag her out of bed. As if she didn’t have the heart to be any louder. Not for Ben, but for his sweet mum who might have loved the rooster. Who knew.

She was sure, though, that the eggs would be worth it. They smelled worth it, and everything Lou had happily stuffed into her mouth since setting foot in Montana had been worth it. Her sleepy stance in front of him didn’t last long. She raised a hand to her forehead and saluted him with a wink. “Anything for food.”

While he pulled on clothes, Emmylou enjoyed the view from a mirror as she absently ran a hand through her hair— and then disappeared into the little bathroom to brush her teeth and scrub her face. “Maybe we should make you sleep on the sofa.” She threatened, popping her head back out and pointing a toothbrush at him. “My honor needs to be protected if I’m a milkmaid.” A tongue poked out, full of toothpaste bubbles.

Minutes later, she was joining him in the task of dressing, taking more care than she might if they were alone. Since today was a holiday and she had a boy’s parents to impress, she’d been careful to hang up a few garments from her overstuffed suitcase. The new sweater was perfect for the time of year, and brought a touch of ‘family party’ to her casual attire. With a scarf, she’d look ready for autumn pictures.

But it was still jeans and boots weather.

After yanking on the aforementioned layers and brushing her hair a bit more properly, she crawled back onto the bed on her knees and settled behind him. Arms slipped around the back of his neck as Lou stole a kiss from his cheek. Her hair slipped over his shoulder as she moved to focus on his jaw, where her mouth was much less chaste. Hovering a breath from his skin, she bit her bottom lip and eyed her path, wondering how she’d been lucky enough to bag such a delicious first Thanksgiving. “Come on, I heard they ride animals around here.”

His smirk was anything but innocent. “I wasn’t thinking of ice skating in it.” Then again, ice-mud wrestling was probably a little too reckless. They would just have to settle for taking the farm truck out; he’d show her a little Montana hospitality then. Eyes skated over her face, from her eyes to her lips to... areas that made his smirk deepen. Fingertips grazed her softer skin at the top of her shirt. “There’s a pond farther back if you want to test your skating skills.”

Not that it was cold enough or deep enough into winter yet for that to be a real possibility. Perhaps a game amongst daring, stupid boys (and some girls) who knew they had a cup of hot cocoa to run home to, teeth chattering and all. His mom had had plenty of chances to lecture her children on the importance of common sense and the elements outside the house (and plenty on the dangers of rough housing in small spaces). If she had a few extra gray hairs from each of her children, then they were well earned.

Eyebrows shot up at her cheeky hands. That was definitely his favorite English slang. He ran his tongue over his lips before winking down at her. “I don’t think that’ll be a problem. I always have a healthy appetite.”

Ben gave her a half shrug. “You get used to their roosting after a while.”

Shock overcame him at her words. “Honor?!” Wait, no, wrong thing to be shocked over. “I think maybe you need a knight to watch over you while you sleep, young milkmaid. That, or you need a room out in the barn, where all the other milkmaids sleep.” He laughed and waggled eyebrows at her.

He sat on the side of the bed as he did his buttons up, a warmth spreading through him as her arms wrapped around him. It had been a while since Ben had let someone get so close to him for so long. It was both terrifying and thrilling. His cheek bunched up against her lips before he turned his head and had a taste. As she moved away, he tilted her head for easier access, the small beard he had grown out tickling as she moved along it.

Arms wrapped behind him and around her. “I already rode an animal!” He tickled her before lifting up, hooking arms under her thighs for a short piggy back ride to the door. Ben let her walk the rest of the way out to the kitchen, greeting family as they made their appearance.

Rebecca was waiting for them with plates and a warm smile. Her accent filled the room as Ben accepted both plates, filling both with eggs, bacon, and a couple of pancakes each. “Aren’t you just precious! Bless your heart.” She put an arm around Emmylou and steered her to the table where Ben’s brothers were eating. They paused long enough to shuffle around for an easy seat, a Good morning greeting, and a friendly smile before digging back in.

Ben brought Emmylou her plate, settling himself down beside her before Rebecca brought over a couple cups of coffee. “Don’ll be back in later, eat on up! Plenty more where that came from.”

A stomach full later...

Ben grinned as his breath came out in little clouds, holding the door open. “Hop on up, little lady.” The truck was already splattered in various stages of mud, from dried to starting-to-dry. The seat was a bench style, easy to lounge across if one felt so inclined. “Don’t forget-” He handed her the thermos and small bag of snacks once she’d settled in, shutting the door once all limbs were safely inside.

He strode around to the driver’s side and pulled himself in, door slamming shut. “Do you think you’re ready?” His smile widened as he strapped in and pushed the clutch in, turning the car on. The older engine roared to life, and Ben was quick to turn the country station down to a softer level.

The feel of his eyes on her made her question her ability to hold another person’s gaze without cracking. They were as much a draw as the big November sky that had welcomed her to this little corner of the world, this cozy house. She managed, somehow, for all of a few seconds.

 “No, no, forget the pond, tell me more about what we’re going to do in this mud,” she said, having successfully melted under the weight of his kisses, beard, and promises. She thought she knew the answer, but the details… well, coming out of that mouth, she could listen all day. (Or cut him short, so that they could get there faster.)

A big, apple-pie loving appetite? Was as a good sign. At his wink, she bumped her chin up, just above the hospitable scruff of his neck, and caught that appetizing bottom lip with teasing teeth. It was the least she could do to show her thanks and give on such an important day— and before he rendered her absolutely unwilling to leave bed, with the way he went at her neck.

“Do you think,” she whispered quietly, so that anyone else in the house mightn’t hear, “They want a rivalry? We could just keep them awake. I mean, I really want to keep on your mum’s good side, but…” Milkmaids could sing a little, couldn’t they? “It’s not like the roosters could tell her what shut them up.”

If the whole house didn’t hear first.

Emmylou wouldn’t really… not unless there were some serious sound barrier charms on the doors and walls. If it were her flat, she wouldn’t care, but Ben’s family seemed to like her, and she wanted to keep it that way. She knew how some of her family would react if he’d suggested the idea.

“Here I am worrying about roosters, and you’re keeping a whole stash of milkmaids to replace me as your pillow. I see how it is,” she warned, as she disappeared to get ready. Only after laughing at the idea. “You’re just jealous my honor is still in tact.”

Somewhere. In a parallel universe.

A little bit of it came out to play as she kissed his cheek— a sweeter moment than competing with roosters for the louder wakeup call— and then they were off: a journey into the American kitchen. “Overachiever,” she murmured, shuddering happily under his tickle. “If I see a wild buffalo, I’ll show you some real riding.” And ankle-breaking to go with it. She could join George on the break-every-bone-in-the-body bucket list.

His mother managed to make her grin even wider than Ben had a moment ago. “This looks and smells delicious,” she greeted, sliding off her ride’s back and looking appreciatively over the spread on the stovetop. She slipped into a seat and grinned at the others while Ben gathered their plates. She wished them a happy Thanksgiving and inquired about their pre-meal plans as everyone passed around pitchers and pots of coffee and salt shakers. “Homemade orange juice, I could cry.” Her eyes fluttered happily over the brim of her cup as Ben sat down across from her.

---

Breakfast had tasted even better than it had looked, and Emmylou had been sure to tell Mrs. Dover as much before they layered up and ventured out for the morning.

Before climbing up into the truck, Lou ran a hand over the door, not minding the dirt a few inches below or the cold of the metal on her palm. As often as she saw cars in London, it was still a novel thing to ride one— least of all because it was huge compared with most of the vehicles she’d seen parked along the roads. She’d had several experiences on the Knight Bus, but she’d never ridden passenger. (Unless sitting on the back of Ben’s motorcycle counted.)

“Thanks, cowboy,” she said, grinning over her shoulder as she teetered on the truck’s ledge. She plopped into the seat and let her palms trail over the material, then raised her knees a bit to accept the little feast into her lap. The tactile pleasures of the soft, worn seat, a warm thermos, and the ghost of scratchy beard kisses made her glad they’d gotten out of London for a while. As much as she loved the city, she was excited to explore the great wilderness.

Or at least the open road.

“Oh, yeah, I’ve waited all my life for—” The engine and boom of music made her sit up a little, raise her brows. “Not that, exactly, but I can go with it.” Lou looked to Ben with a grin, then bit her lip and shook her head a bit to the now-faint music. “Take me down the wrong side of the road.”

As they began, the crunch of the gravel under the wheels was an all-together different experience from being on horseback. Emmylou sat up, peering over the top of the truck. Their vantage point was pretty lofty, as far as she was concerned. She felt higher than she had in the plane, mostly because she could see out the front. The sky was endless, only mountains in the way on either side of the valley. She could see the appeal in a vehicle this huge, even if she couldn’t easily picture it on cramped London streets. “You’re lucky I’m not the carsick type,” she told him, thrilled, and so sure.

She reached for one of the little knobs, trying to turn the music back up, but instead the high note of a church organ crackled into their ears. “My kind of jam, obviously,” she said, cocking her head to the side to watch him drive. She hit the button again, and a classic rock song came on. “I bet I can spot more cows than you.” She leaned back and smiled at the road ahead.

“I think I’ll just show you.” He bit his lower lip and smiled around it. Ben really hoped she enjoyed the romp through muddy trails. If she didn’t, at least he’d enjoy it. So far, though, she’d enjoyed everything he’d shown her. Or she acted like it, anyway. That was good enough for him.

That was the first time he’d ever thought of rivaling the roosters. Eyebrows climbed his forehead before laughter escaped. He quieted himself down and whispered back. “Maybe in the henhouse, then? That’ll really get to them.” The smug grin slipped out. Not that his family wouldn’t come out to see where the coyote was, but for that moment... it would be hilarious.

There were quite a few stories that wouldn’t have existed if he thought things through. “A few don’t talk as much as you, that is true.” He laughed as he poked at her - as if they could keep milkmaids out in the barn all winter. “That is why I’m jealous. Because my family already knows about me.” Though that didn’t bode well for her, since she was with the troublesome Dover.

“I’ll get you up on a bull yet!” If it happened to be mechanical, then that would just be more entertainment for him.

---

He smirked and nodded. Ben could get used to that nickname from her. It made him square his shoulders. Once he was settled in beside her, it didn’t take long to get the truck roaring to life. Ben let it idle there, warming up, as he pulled out his tin from his back pocket, staring down into the nearly empty container. He used the last of it, settling it between his lip and jawline.

“Wrong side of the road?” He laughed and slipped his sunglasses on. “You act like you drive all the time.” His boot pushed in the clutch as he slid it into gear, fish tailing at the start as he pushed down on the accelerator a little too fast. Ben laughed as they started down the gravel driveway.

“Is that so? If you were... there’s a window.” As she fiddled with the radio, Ben picked up an empty drink from the cup holder, shifting them to a steady pace down the country road. “You didn’t like my music choice?” He grinned and glanced over to watch her, admiring how great she looked. The cup was sat back down and his hand moved over to her thigh, fingers spreading across her skin before hooking inside her leg with a gentle squeeze.

Ben gave her a wink. “I bet I can name more than you.” He pulled his hand back and shifted down as he turned them off the main road and onto a much smaller, more worn ditch. Once he made sure her seat belt was clicked, he took off down the road, hitting every puddle he could find, twisting the steering wheel this way and that along the trail. It opened up into a wider meadow, which he quickly turned into, hopping little bumps along the way as he narrowly avoided getting them stuck.

“See any cows?” His voice was a little louder and full of mirth as he grinned, pulling his cap down a little lower. This was his kind of fun!

She watched his fingers go for the tin, which had an old-fashioned feel about it, and something that reminded her just a little of trips to Honeydukes. If chewing was a bad habit, it was also attractive when he did it. Something about tasting him, the lingering scent, even the cute, promising little bulge at his jaw… Combined with the whole package, it drove her a tiny bit crazy in a good way.

“Even someone who doesn’t drive—” Or ride in cars, or generally live among them— “Knows the proper side is the left,” she pointed out, with a sweeping gesture of her right hand. That was aided by their sudden acceleration. Emmylou’s eyes might have widened just a little. Her head whipped to Ben, to the road in front of them. It was a different from a broom, but decidedly brilliant. A nice little scare was a great way to start a new mode of transportation. “I’ve been on the Knight Bus,” she offered, half lame plea, half ha, gotcha! “And George and I almost took a spin in a car once.” A long time ago, as kids below the legal age, let alone ones without licenses. “I think I could manage the stick part just fine, anyway,” she settled, feeling a little more confident playing passenger as she caught his eye from the side. (As if she wasn’t already brimming with confidence.) They’d gotten to know one another over beers and stick shifts.

She had no plans to use the window to be sick. Her face said so. But her shaking head turned into a nod as she grinned at him. “I like a good country bumpkin song,” she admitted. It was mostly his doing. “But right now…” Her eyes suddenly fell to his friendly hand, which despite the cold outside, and the still-thawing steering wheel, felt warm to that sensitive bit of her skin. “Is more rock n’ roll, isn’t it?” She asked a little more softly, biting her lip and letting her own fingers dance about his, if only for a few playful seconds.

“What a cute achievement,” she laughed. “That just proves that you were secretly good boy you were.” But now she wanted to know what he’d name them. “Or how lonely a kid you were…” Her grin was kidding, and a little dangerous. Neither of those things was true, exactly, she knew.

“So who’s that?” She demanded, pointing at a near-flash of brown and white as they barreled past it. It had taken her only a handful of seconds to spot a cow after he’d asked. She was a pretty thing, the sort of gentle, vaguely regal creature Emmylou envisioned alongside the the kid version of Ben his mother had told stories about.

But by the twelfth cow, she could see how keeping track of their numbers, let alone their name, was a tall order for farmers. They all sort of looked alike, and the tags were microscopic if one was charging at you or refusing to move out of a herd. Or… whirling on by on an empty road.

By the time a little town was on the bright blue horizon, she could feel the now-toasty truck slowing to a pleasant crawl. But before the buildings got any more discernible, they took a turn, and it wasn’t cows or quaint shops, but stray ducks and a keen-eared deer who dotted the sides of an old dirt road. As they wove along it, a glossy dark pond stream out ahead of them, laced with bare trees. “Is that a moose?” She asked, her mouth parting in true surprise. As if it had heard her, the great beast looked up at the slowing truck. “You don’t think he’d like being called Custard Cream?” She asked, throwing out one of the ridiculous rejected names she’d bestowed on the roadside cows.

She sat up a bit as the truck stopped, and looked over the majestic scape of pale blues, white-gray, and earth. Having learned how to roll down the window the rebel’s way, while they were going 60 in the freezing cold, Lou pressed the button and let the chill seep in just a little. She sighed and let her head hit the seat. Her eyes closed a little as she smiled, and then one popped open and stared at him with teasing suspicion. “I can’t believe you traded this sky for Soctland.”

Undoing her seatbelt, and she scooted to the inner edge of the seat and hooked a finger through the belt loop of Ben’s jeans. “Have you ridden a moose?” She asked, giving a tug, leaning in toward his side. She was close to jaw now, but tilted her head so that it nearly rested on his shoulder. Eyes rolled up to study a view she hadn’t tired of yet. She tilted her chin up, let her lip tickle his jawline. Her fingers had snuck across his abdomen, soaked up the heat under the hem of his shirt. “Or you could get me on that bull now.”

A half smirk settled on his lips as she critiqued which side of the road he drove on. Eyes scanned the road ahead before stealing a glance over her, his right hand wandering to her thigh for a brief caress and squeeze before moving back to the gear shift. He wasn’t sure what it was, but Ben couldn’t get enough of Emily Louise Carter. Her mischievous energy was infectious.

He’d been on the Knight Bus too, once or twice. And a few other modes of transportation... Some were more luxurious than others, but all got you somewhere faster than your own two feet. And he’d walked plenty to get where he needed to get. “Were you wizard kids worried about almost spinning it?” Ben grinned at the thought of a rebellious younger Emily stealing a car for a quick spin in it.

“Oh!” Country bumpkin song, was it? She dug that one in nice and quick. He laughed and shook his head. Eyes met hers after a turn, agreeing with a grin and small nod of his head. “Good point.”

The laugh that escaped him was unexpected and loud. Ben knew he wasn’t any sort of good boy; the kids minded their manners when they had to, but otherwise... they were all a handful in their own rights. The boys just tended to do a lot of stupid and dangerous stunts that the girls knew better than to attempt. “Lonely?!” Ben frowned teasingly before shaking his head. “City girl.”

They went too fast past the cow for him to actually look, but he knew enough names off the top of his head to shout out one as convincingly as possible. “Betsy!” Though to be fair, when the kids were younger, they named at least a quarter of the cows Betsy. It didn’t make it easy to get one to come, though. When you called them by name, a bunch would come all at once. Add in apples or carrots, and you could bet even ones not named Betsy would crowd around.

By the time they turned off for the pond, he’d spit out his chewing tobacco and focused on going a little slower. Ben didn’t want to mess up the family truck by hitting a skittish deer. Or moose, as Emmylou was so kind to point out. “Uh...” He glanced to where she was looking, squinting for the antlers. “Yes.” Eyes turned back to the road as he smiled. Ben thought about explaining the differences between moose and elk, but since she got it right... there wasn’t much point. “I think you can call him whatever you want.”

Rolling to a gentle stop, he popped the car into neutral and put the emergency brake on, allowing the heater to keep cranking out. “There is beauty in Scotland that I can’t find here.” Other than his family, this life was a closed door. He didn’t need to go back to it. All the growing up he’d done had taught him that.

His arm snaked out over the back of the bench, curling around her frame. “I have not. I don’t want to get bit.” Eyes fluttered closed before he let out a breath. Fingers roamed gently, softly, lightly over her jacket, lifting the back of it just so until he could get his hand under the material, sliding down under her trousers. “You think you could ride the bull?” He shifted until he was out from under the steering wheel (having propped it up as high as it would go), fingers working on the zip of her jacket after helping her up and over his lap. “You just have to hold on for a wild ride. And don’t let go.”

---

Fresh tobacco was pushed around his jaw, jutting his lower lip out as he leaned against the side of the truck as the gas pumped in bit by bit. He’d had to adjust his jeans when he got out, fixing his belt and shirt under the jacket, tucking messy hair under his hat.

That was when he heard the high pitched voice cut through his day dreams. Blinking, he glanced over his shoulder briefly, did a double take, and then turned around. Standing just outside of a shiny SUV was another petite blonde, only this one was his age and had destroyed his world years ago. Benjamin frowned briefly before lifting his hand in greeting. “Hello Kim.” And around the other side came the other stab in the back. An old best friend. This time his small frown stayed. “Jessie.”

He turned his head and spit, trying to let them know without saying anything that he didn’t want a reunion right now.

The female voice assaulted his eardrums again. Closer this time. “Oh my gosh, how long has it been?” He looked around and ran his hand over his mouth, resisting the urge to do something stupid. Maybe Emily would be quick and the gas wouldn’t take so long. His brain exploded when the woman wrapped him in a bear hug, swaying them both side to side unexpectedly. Ben pulled away quickly, putting some distance as he held out a hand. “Wow there, that’s enough.” He looked from Kim to Jessie, who was still standing by the SUV and watching the encounter with his own frown. "I'm just visiting family."

Emmylou reached witchily for the dashboard as they turned into the gas station, this time choosing a knob with confidence. She got it right, and a twangy undercurrent of country indie softened the sound of the motor as they idled into a vacant spot. She was still smiling stupidly, pink cheeked from the ride into the wild that Ben had provided. She peaked at him from the side.

As he turned off the ignition, Lou leaned in quickly and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek. “I’m never giving Betsy grief again. She knows a good thing when she sees it,” she said with a grin, as she slipped off the seat and did an it’s-really-really-cold dance-like jog toward the service station.

She was glad he could handle her jokes about country music and bumpkins both. Some of them had been rough for sure.

A few minutes later, with a plastic hanging from one arm and a souvenir clutched in the opposite hand, she shuffled back into the cold. What she’d expected to see— Ben waving a muggle gas pump at her in leering gallantry— was replaced by cold reality. Her pupils seemed to dilate before she registered what was happening. Emmylou slowed to a stop and watched, her breath coming out in fog that was not kind enough to obscure the sway of sunny hair and the small female form clinging to the expat cowboy.

Remembering her feet (or finally feeling the cold pinch and burn at her exposed skin), Emmylou closed the gap between herself and the trio. The young man was momentarily dismissible, summed up as the human extension of his oversized, impressive car. It was the woman, her cheery voice that took center stage: a blonde bombshell she could easily imagine in Daisy Dukes, despite the polar-bear-friendly weather. Though Lou wasn’t a self-conscious girl, not exactly, Kim was plainly beautiful, both in a small town beauty queen way and a sporty, beachy, hold-her-own-in-a-rodeo way. It made her all the more grating, somehow, as she pouted at being pushed away.

Lou’s eyes moved from Kim to Ben, and she mustered a close-lipped smile. And then, catching herself— she was not jealous!— she lifted the bag with an apologetically late introduction. “Er, sorry, we had to load up on snacks. You’ve such a selection!” The you obviously referring to Americans. But it was meant in a friendly, impressed way (and truly, she had gone a bit overboard on the haul) and now paired with a wider, more confident grin. “I’m Emmylou.” She shoved out her hand, realized quickly what it held, and shoved out the other. Her tourist find swung at her side, foil packaging catching in the sun: a pack of rubber novelties stamped with a grizzly bear, the Montana state animal according to the chuckling attendant who’d sold them to her. Save the… cowboys and the horses bears forests. Her smile became close-lipped again, this time falsely demure.

Ben turned his head and gave Emily a grateful smile that quickly morphed into mildly mischievous. Eyes danced over her, her new belongings, and back to her face before giving the ever polite-to-your-face and quite conniving Kim a raised eyebow. Kim had a momentary slip of her face as she took in the accented female who obviously was with Ben. She quickly stood up and gave her the biggest smile, eyes widening as she took it all in. “Oh, Ben, she’s absolutely precious.” The hand out made her pause, only getting a brief look at what was held in it before the hands changed.

Ben frowned and took a deep breath. “No, she’s my girlfriend. Emmylou, this is Kim-” stopping the obnoxious woman from introducing herself, just as her mouth opened to do so, “-and that is Jessie.” Nodding his head towards the silent and sulking man at the SUV. Jessie straightened his shoulders and inclined his head towards the English woman, who he had taken the time to appreciate and ogle from the safety of his vehicle.

While Ben put the gas pump back where it belonged, Kim continued to talk. She was always full of hot air. As she rattled on about the weather and the holiday and asking Emily if she knew what Thanksgiving was, Ben had already put the cap back on and walked around to save Miss Carter. His arm slipped around her shoulder, pulling her in closer. Ben lifted the pack of Bear condoms out of her hand and chuckled before tucking them into his front pocket, lazily blinking back to the slightly red-faced Kim. “We just never realized that our Benny Dover would bring back his own little souvenir!”

Ben’s face quickly turned into an irritated frown. “I forgot to explain, Emily, that Kimberly here decided to start a relationship with Jessie,” his free hand waving in the SUV’s direction, “while we were still together. Best thing that could’ve happened to me. How many kids do you guys have now?” He turned his attention to Jessie, who was fuming even more, eyes narrowed and lips pursed. Kim stammered, eyes wide, finally choking out “Two.”

Giving the top of Emily’s head a kiss, Ben sighed. “I’ve seen the world, I’ve made love with a gorgeous English woman, and I’ve brought her back to meet the family. I have my own home, a horse, a job, and a fantastic life. I really do owe Kim for that. And Jessie, too, I suppose.” He waved to Jessie before turning towards the passenger door, opening it for Emily. “If we don’t leave now, Kim will try to talk you into joining her PTA. Have a nice holiday, Kim, Jessie.” Ben didn’t spare them another look as he helped Emily up into the seat, giving her a wink before shutting the door and walking around the other side.

“Do you want to see my high school too, while we’re at it?” He grinned before sliding into the truck, a playful smirk on his lips. Really, he just wanted to see what snacks she picked out.

Precious?

In no imagined scenario of her American Thanksgiving adventures did Emily Louise Carter envision herself being called precious by Ben’s ex— as she swung plastic bags of muggle junk-food and bear-stamped condoms around in the rugged air of a diesel service station, no less.

Jealousy Hesitancy to trust her aside, Emmylou could tell from the honied tone of the small-town blonde that they wouldn’t be friends in another life. The fact that the woman appeared to still have designs on Benjamin Jack Dover was an added weight, something that tipped the scales against this Kim woman when they already dismally low from first impressions.

Yes, that was it, it was just her voice. Not that way she looked him up and down. Not that her paws had been all over him, trapping him there in place, a moment prior, before Lou had approached.

Be nice, Emmylou.

All of these thoughts zoomed around her head in a matter of seconds. And it took a moment for her brain to register what Ben was saying— not what she was trying to tell herself. She shot him a sideways glance, eyes brightening, a renewed smile tugging at her lips. His girlfriend. She liked being called that. Especially in the face of an ex.

Her eyes flew back to Kim, then beyond her, to the man behind her. He looked like he probably did whatever she told him to. It might just have been more bad first impressions— colored by Ben’s hesitant, dry tone, and stories they’d mumbled to one another at late hours of the night— but the pair seemed to match one another, in a strange way. She didn’t know too much about Kim or Jessie, but she could infer from what Ben had been guarded with that it had all ended badly, that they were part of a past he’d wanted to leave behind.

Her arm, the one with the bag of snacks, moved reflexively (and a little possessively) around his back as he pulled her to his side. She pressed her palm into his jacket, meaning to offer comfort and thanks. The cowboy had saved her; she needed to return the favor. The state pride prophylactics passed between them like a gift, Ben’s small laugh washing the sound of Kim’s annoying voice out of her ears. Emmylou had really lucked out, serving this one coffee once upon a time. “Hopefully enough for later,” she murmured— loudly— unable to help herself, and not really wanting to. Her eyes moved from his delicious jaw, to his shirt pocket, to Kim’s vaguely sour, vaguely embarrassed face.

“We just never realized that our Benny Dover would bring back his own little souvenir!”

Precious was one thing. Souvenir was entirely another. Her formerly friendly face darkened, and she did not take her eyes from Kim’s.

Her heart careened up, and then back down toward her stomach as Ben explained what he had been careful to avoid discussing before. She’d suspected his new life in Scotland had had something to do with a girl— the mysterious Kim, even— but he’d never told her what a terrible human she’d been. Not until now.

“Yikes,” she said, her mouth looking pained and regretful as she bore her teeth in an animated, cringey frown. “You sure picked the wrong horse, huh?” Her voice dripped with sympathy as she shot Jessie another look. “You must be gutted.” What kind of dense woman picked that over this?

Lou stood a little taller as Ben confronted them about their sad fate. (She couldn’t help it, she was feeling especially spiteful now.) Her own face flushed a little for the first time during the exchange as he described his life— including her in it.

She gave him another squeeze as he turned toward the truck. “Nice to meet you,” she called over her shoulder, purposefully mocking Kim’s tone, meeting her eyes even as Ben had chosen not to look back. “We’ve got some souvenirs to play with, so.” She smiled a smile that would put George to shame.

“Do you want to see my high school too, while we’re at it?”

“Is that American Wizard speak for Hogwarts’ little sister?” She asked, maneuvering in her seat to watch him round to the driver’s seat. She upended the bag of snacks as he closed the door. Choosing a bag of something crunchy, cheesy, and positively unhealthy, she popped it open and peered inside. This gorgeous English woman wants to shag your brains out on every landmark in the wild west.” She looked up at him, returning his wink.