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I step to the side to watch as Marcos gives his undivided attention to the task. He’s frowning, and looking far more serious than the chore warrants. I take a picture with my cellphone, and text it to Max. It’s not fair that I’m the only witness to this.

“How often does he need to eat? He’s acting like he hasn’t eaten in days,” he asks, watching Tuna in concern.

“Well, first couple of days they eat every hour, almost. Now, it’s about once every four hours, although he’s old enough that it’s time to slowly taper that down.”

“Oh my god,” Marcos says, glancing up at me. “That much? So, somebody always has to be here with him.”

“Yeah. That’s why we’d hoped Shrimp would take over, but she hasn’t had enough milk to keep the little monster happy. I don’t mind doing it, though.”

Tuna, having finished his breakfast but not believing it, sucks forcefully enough that he almost pulls the empty bottle from Marcos’ hand.

“All done,” he whispers to him. Swallowing painfully, I reach out to take the empty bottle. Marcos looks at me. “What does he do now? Sleep?”

“Nope. Now he acts crazy,” I respond, just as Tuna takes a turn around the stall before crashing into me and falling down. I grunt. A baby horse is still a lot of horse. “We can bring them outside.”

Shrimp waits patiently for me to clip a lead rope on her bridle and open the stall door. Marcos makes a soft noise of distress when I don’t do the same for Tuna.

“He’ll follow us,” I tell him.

Marcos walks beside me as we lead them from the barn, but glances over his shoulder at Tuna every thirty seconds as though waiting for him to run away. He doesn’t, but follows alongside Shrimp as we bring them to a round pen.

Here, Tuna manages to keep his feet underneath himself when he makes a second attempt at zoomies but is distracted halfway through by a patch of tall grass.

He nibbles on it, tail flicking rapidly.

Marcos, standing close enough to me that his arm brushes mine, pulls up the timer on his phone. I watch as he sets it for four hours.

“That way we won’t forget what time we need to feed him,” he explains, tucking the phone back into his pocket. “Are you sure you can leave him out here? What about wolves?”

“They wouldn’t come in this close. That’s why he stays in this pen and not out in one of the far pastures. And Shrimp would kick the shit out of a wolf if one got in here.”

Marcos, frowning as though he doesn’t believe me, glances around, apparently in search of wolves. I rest my cheek against the top rail of the pen, grinning at him helplessly. Oh yeah, I definitely love him.

“Maybe we should stay close by, just in case,” he suggests cautiously, still looking worried.

“Sure,” I agree. I’d been planning on spending today doing nothing more strenuous than blowing him, so it’s an easy promise to make. I hold out a hand. “Let’s go get some more coffee and make breakfast.”

Unfortunately, the entire day cannot be spent naked in bed, because, as Marcos puts it, the baby needs to eat.

Fully clothed once more, we leave the loft and head back out to check on Shrimp and Tuna.

I let Marcos handle feeding once more, and spend the time making sure I’ve got sufficient photographic documentation.

“Uh-oh. Incoming,” I warn Marcos when I catch sight of a familiar figure in the distance, heading our way. He looks up at me before following my line of sight. “That’s my uncle.”

I hold up a hand in greeting, letting him know we can see him coming. Marcos watches silently as he approaches, hands clenched around the bottle that Tuna is attempting to suck dry.

“Morning,” Uncle Jes greets us, propping a foot on the bottom bar of the pen and resting his forearm across the top. In his other hand, a scratched and dented tumbler is steaming—I’ve never seen him use another mug after I gave that to him for Christmas one year. “You boys got in late last night.”

“Yeah, you know how traffic is near the airport.” I shrug, moving a step closer to Marcos. “Jes, this is Marcos. Marcos—my uncle Jesper, but most people call him Jes.”

Marcos, temporarily waylaid by the fact that he needs both hands to hold the bottle, looks a little panicked. Before I can take it from him so he can introduce himself properly, Uncle Jes chuckles .

“No need to shake my hand—we’re not so formal on this side of the fence.”

I snort, understanding the inside joke and making a mental note to explain the property lines to Marcos later.

“It’s nice to meet you. Thank you for letting me stay,” Marcos says before he’s distracted by Tuna once more. He pulls the empty bottle away and brushes a hand down the foal’s neck. Tuna walks away, moving over to sniff at Uncle Jes’ boots.

“Oh, any time, son. I’m happy to have you here. Nathan, your parents will be here tomorrow afternoon. Figured maybe we could have dinner at the house.”

I grimace, glancing over at Marcos and back at my uncle, who has a knowing smirk on his face.

“Sounds good,” I agree. He nods, clapping a hand down on the railing and startling Tuna, who moves back over to Marcos, apparently deeming him the safer option.

“You taking some horses out today?” Jes asks.

“Not today. Marcos doesn’t know how to ride.” I glance over at Marcos, smirking. “Yet.”

As intended, these words earn me a severe glare from Marcos and a laugh from my uncle. He pats the rail again before taking a step back.

“You’ll handle the feeding tonight?” he asks with a nod toward Tuna.

“Yeah. We’ve got it.”

“All right. Nice to meet you, Marcos. Come over to the big house if you boys need something.”

I wait until he’s well out of earshot before turning to Marcos. “Easy one down, two to go.”

He laughs and comes close enough that I can kiss him, which I do. I intend to kiss him so much this summer, the taste of him will never leave my mouth.

“He seems nice.”

“He is. Not much for talking. That’s the most words he’ll say today, probably. Honestly, I think the only reason he’s so eager to have me take over from him is because I’ll be the one talking to people.”

Marcos snorts. “So, your parents tomorrow?”

“Yeah. I’m glad they aren’t here already. I’m too selfish to make the effort today. I want you all to myself.” I reach for him, but he crouches down to pet Tuna. I put a hand over my heart. “Wow. Already replaced.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, you’re a very, very close second.” Tuna pushes his nose against Marcos’ cheek, making him laugh. I pull out my phone, because obviously I need another picture. “Any more chores need to be done?”

“Nope. Well, yeah, but not by us. Our only job is to fuck like rabbits and feed Tuna.”

“Oh maldita sea, Max was right. You really are like Luke,” Marcos says on a groan.