I got a letter from Minty today:
Timber,

Sorry I haven't written yet, but Bucksfield is so cool. Almost all of the buildings are touching, there are hardly any places to walk between them! A lot of the ponies here are nice, with a few exceptions. We're making a lot of bits, ponies really like my ice cream, and mom met a guy who bakes cakes! They work really well together. His name's Fondante, but I call him Fon, he's really funny.

Speaking of funny guys, how are you? Churner tells me you're working for him now. How is that? Making a lot of bits?

Well, I gotta go. Write back soon!
Love you,
Minty Swirl

The whole thing makes me sad, for Churner mostly. She doesn't call him "dad," she never even had a nickname like "Fon." But I'm happy she's reading his letters. I write back, telling her eloquently about my time at her old creamery. I don't tell her about my feelings for him, or about the hug. I don't want her to think I've taken his side. I pretty much have, but I don't want her thinking I've betrayed her. I don't make the letter too long, ending with asking her if she’s made any cool friends, but cutting it shorter than usual. The mood of her letter left me a little bitter toward her.

Besides I had to get to work.

It's a pretty slow day, only two pounds of butter sold pretty early, like someone forgot the most important part of breakfast, for a family of ten. With the rest of the short time, Churn decides to give me a lesson on churning butter. He lets me do it the "easy way," so I don't have to get the perfect rhythm while focusing on a steady cream flow. He pours the salted cream into the second mill, and sweet cream into the first, setting me up behind the salt one. Just before he starts, he grabs one last thing from his bag; a hair net. Brushing my hair back, he stretches the net over my head. I have to fiddle with it, it gets stuck on my glasses, and then we get started.

I'll be honest, at this point I'm really just hoping it gets to that point... like how Churner met Frosty.

I shake my head, then readjust my glasses. I haven't had thoughts like that before. Sure, I had once before stolen a glance between his legs while he was up on a stool, but it's not all like that. To be honest, I was slightly intimidated by the size of his sheath, but almost drooled at the size of his jewels. And I've mentioned his ass before, right?

I pay close attention to his churning lesson, mimicking his movements as closely as possible: clockwise, counter, vertical, clockwise, counter, vertical. Now a bit faster. The motions were awkward, especially with him watching me, grading me. I didn't look at him; half refusing to get stuck on how he looks while churning, half afraid of messing up if I looked away. I'm so focused on churning I don't notice he's moved closer to me.

"You’re doing great," he compliments, "try this." He grabs the churn stick and moves with me, yanking it up quickly then pressing down slower. My face is hot, the way everything's happening...

"Like this?" I ask dumbly.

"Yeah, awesome," he steps back to watch some more. I feel stupid, like some filly flirting with a colt through deception. Except I'm not trying to. Still, I wasn’t trying not to.

He steps close again and behind me, eyeing my stance. At least, I hope that's all he's eyeing. Suddenly I wish I didn't trim my tail so short. Without warning, my hind hooves split up. I lose my balance for a second, almost spilling the buttery cream. I had kept my stance pretty close together, kind of out of habit. He kicked my hooves apart, saying "Stand like this, makes it easier."

Him standing behind me and moving my legs makes me feel even more nervous. I'm afraid that if he looks at my face he'll catch on to me and he'll never talk to me again. Then again, I tend to think of the worst case scenarios first.

My brain starts dancing as I find a rhythm. He's telling me I'm doing great, but in my mind he's embracing me. We're going slowly and he lifts his body over mine. The curve of his abdomen fitting perfectly into my spine. His loin dancing inches away from my backside. I feel the heat from it.

"Hey, are you feeling all right?" I don't realize he's standing right in front of me. "You look a little warm."

"Oh, really? Huh... I guess I'm a little dizzy." It's not a lie, but it doesn't feel true.

"You need to sit down?"

"I think I should," I say, stepping away from the butter. I'm starting to get a stress headache, I'm blowing up on the inside. This shouldn't be happening. I realize my stallionhood is a little excited, keeping my hind legs together so he doesn't see. Not that he'd look down there.

"All right, here," he brushes up a spot by the door, then props it open. "The fresh air should help, but stay out of the sun."

"Thanks," I step over to the spot he prepared for me, sitting, then lying down in a way that hides my awkward semi-erection. I hate myself right now for getting so far out of control.

"I'll get you some water."

He goes to get me cold water from a tap in the back and I relax, trying to quell any more thoughts of him by thinking of Minty. Turns out it works too well and I fall into a mental ditch. I spiraled deep, fast. Thinking about how devious they seemed to act toward each other. Then, how it was mostly Minty, but really only Minty’s mom. I feel sorry for Minty, but I can’t seem to grasp why.

When Churner gets back, he notices my slump. Leaving the glass of water by the door he says, "Don't worry pal, it's just butter. It ain't as easy as I make it look."

I smile, acting like that's actually what's wrong. "Yeah, sorry... I guess it's not for me."

He pats my shoulder, and I fix my glasses. "You wanna sit out the party?"

I smile gratefully, "I thought you said it wasn't a party."

"Well..." he trails off.

"Or did you just mean it'll be a party if I'm not there?" I smile cheekily.

He waves his hooves frantically, "No no no! That's not what I meant."

"It's fine, I get it."

"No, really I... kind of wanted to surprise you." He blushes, too cute.

I'm speechless. Surprise me with what? That he lied about the party? Big deal.

"Well it'll still be a surprise when we get there,” he settles. Why bother saving it? What was it? Why even bother surprising me? I couldn’t be that special to my best friend’s dad, and my boss.

This stallion is a mystery to me. At least I don't feel hot anymore.