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“She’s very nice looking,” Owen admitted, a smile creeping up the corners of his mouth. He liked shooting the shit with the guys again. He’d missed this part of the brotherhood of the service. Plus, it felt good to quit sulking about Paige.

*

“Nice. Banberry needssome new blood.”

“You say that because you’ve plowed your way through most of the eligible women already,” Brad chimed in.

“Don’t forget the ineligible ones,” Steve joked.

“You’re a dog,” Brad said, sitting down on the bench on the edge of the barn.

“That’s not saying much for canines,” Owen added. He patted a breathless Penske as he rejoined the men, also seemingly happy for the company.

“Touché,” Steve said, shaking his head, hoisting two twelve-footers overhead. He was a beast. Too bad he didn’t do the farm thing. He was built for it. “I’m just sayin’, if your sister chose Owen instead of me, maybe I have a shot with her friend.”

“Hopefully my sister’s friend has the same good taste to steer clear of you as Paige did,” Brad said. “You know if you ever dated Paige we’d have to settle this in the old-fashioned way, right?”

“Hey now, why’s she good enough for Owen and not for me?”

“She’s too good for you, man. Besides, she made her choice.”

Owen cleared his throat. “Yeah, apparently none of us made the cut.”

Brad sighed, patted Owen on the shoulder. Owen just smiled weakly, shook his head.

“Speaking of the women in our lives, have you heard anything from Julia since last night?”

Brad let out a slow exhale but didn’t make eye contact with either of them. “Nothing. Just a voicemail telling me if I wanted to stay out all night with the guys it was fine by her, but just not to bother coming home tonight either then.”

“Even with your dad?”

“Yup.”

Steve whistled. “That’s cruel, man.”

“Sure is.” Silence closed in around them, everything that needed to be said out there, swirling around them like the fall breeze.

Like the men he’d served with, Steve and Brad knew when it was time to put their personal issues behind them and buckle down. Also like the Marines, they did good, steady work with no further complaining about their hangovers or headaches, or the women that caused them.

The three men hammered and sawed to the sound of grunts as heavy loads dropped at their feet, to the squawks of the frequent flocks of ducks and geese starting their months-long trip south to warmer climates. They worked until the sun crept over the hillside, taking the heat of the day with it.

“It’s looking good,” Steve said, standing back to admire the work they’d accomplished so far. They were halfway through the brace Owen had envisioned and gotten approved from Brad. If the guys could pitch in again tomorrow, they could finish everything up.

“Thanks for your help, fellas,” Owen said, clapping them both on the back. “I couldn’t have done all this without you.”

“Nah. Thankyoufor helping out my old man. He’ll be so surprised to see this fixed, he’ll think he hit his head harder than he did.”

They all chuckled, faced the barn siding, and admired their work.

“Not bad, not bad at all,” Owen muttered, half to himself.

“See you tomorrow?” Steve asked.

“Can you spare another day at the shop?”

“Please. What good is it being the boss when you don’t get to call in a couple days to help a friend?”

“Thanks,” Owen said, and Brad echoed it.