No Egrets (Tuft Swallow)

1. Paige

Chapter 1

Paige

“ S hit, shit, SHIT!” I check the hand-drawn map my father drew for me before I left, annoyed with myself that I didn’t simply plug Aunt Rosie and Uncle Javan’s address into my phone instead. “I had to have made a wrong turn somewhere.”

It’s nearing that time in the evening when I don’t love to be out driving, especially in the countryside, and especially in an area I don’t know very well. It’s still light outside, but it’s just dusk enough that it’s harder to see the deer when they’re about to run out in front of my car. At least that’s what I tell myself. Yeah I might drive a Volkswagen Beetle that’s probably as old as I am, but Daisy has been good to me because I’m good to her. We’ve had an understanding since the day I purchased her from the used car lot almost ten years ago. Though I’m not originally from a metropolis kind of area, city driving has always been much easier. Streetlights abound and there are less deer, or other woodland critters, willing to sacrifice their lives in order to dent my fender. Back country roads are always riskier. It would also help if it weren’t currently raining.

“Sorry, Daisy, girl. You’ve been telling me it’s time for new wipers and I didn’t listen. I promise I’ll do it tomorrow, okay? Now let’s get us where we need to go.”

I look down to squint at Dad’s map one more time, hoping to figure out where I went wrong, but when I look back up at the road again I gasp so loudly there can’t possibly be any air left inside the car.

“FUCK!”

My tires squeal as I slam on the brakes and turn the wheel, nearly running myself off the side of the road, in order to not hit “What the?—”

Daisy finally comes to a halt and I take a deep breath thanking all the Gods that I’m still breathing and Daisy isn’t any worse for the wear because I didn’t hit the “Goat?” I ask nobody but myself. “Is that a goat in the road?”

In the middle of the winding country road, with several long pieces of grass being chewed in its mouth, stands a moderately sized goat. His dirty white hair hangs in wet and matted ringlets though it would probably be curly and somewhat soft on a dry day. Even with his horns, the amount of wool on his body makes his head appear small, his cute lop-ears hang from the sides of his aged face. He’s definitely not a baby. And he could definitely use a good sheering.

“Poor guy. I wonder where you came from.”

Also thank God, I didn’t hit him.

Daisy would’ve gotten a nasty dent from that guy.

And I’d be left sobbing at the idea of killing an animal even if it were an accident.

I look out my window and turn to look behind me, wondering where one lone goat could’ve come from. There are no other goats milling around and nobody is walking along the street calling for it.

“He must’ve strayed from home.”

I look down the road a bit, spotting what looks to be some type of white house in the distance. I can only hope it’s a farm and Mr. Goat’s home. For a moment I contemplate driving on. I’d love to be able to make it to Aunt Rosie and Uncle Javan’s before it’s so dark I can’t see a thing. But on the other hand, if I almost hit the goat, that means someone else could just as easily, and if something were to happen to him, I don’t think I could live with myself knowing I could’ve helped him but chose not to. Plus, what if some kid somewhere is crying because he’s lost?

“Ugh! You’re breaking my heart Mr. Goat.”

I want to say I can’t believe I’m about to get out in the rain and walk this goat back to his home, assuming the house up ahead is indeed his home, but Ella, my college roommate and best friend back home, would tell me she’d believe it any day of the week.

“Girl you couldn’t hurt a fly if it landed and shit in your pancakes or mated on the edge of your drinking straw.”

Yeah, she’s said that to me more than once.

Also, she’s not wrong.

With a resigned sigh, I brave the cold rain and push open my door. Mr. Goat watches me silently as I step out of the car, leaving everything I brought with me inside, and slowly walk toward him.

“Please don’t ram me, Mr. Goat. I’m nice, I swear. I just want to help.”

Mr. Goat continues to chew the grass he’s holding in his mouth not seeming to care in the slightest that I’m standing a few feet from him. Cautiously I step toward him. He’s got a bell around his neck so I have to assume he’s not just a stray goat.

Do stray goats even exist?

“Are you lost Mr. Goat? Can I help get you home?”

“Maaaaaaaaaa.”

“Well, it’s not safe for you out here in the middle of the road. You could get yourself…” I swallow hard when it dawns on me that I’m a single female in an unfamiliar place standing alone in the middle of some country road in the dark and in the rain. “Killed.”

Smart, Paige.

Real smart.

I take a deep breath and throw caution to the wind. “Come on Mr. Goat. Let’s go see if that’s your house up ahead.”

Stepping past him, I take a few more steps down the pavement and turn back to check on my new four-legged friend. To my surprise, he turns and follows me, his hooves clickity clacking on the pavement as he takes his slow sweet time. The tiny cowbell around his neck clanks every couple of steps. “That’s it, Mr. Goat. We’ll be home before you know it.”

Eleven minutes.

That’s how long it takes to walk about a quarter of a mile when you’re going at goat speed, which, of course, includes stopping every twenty-five feet or so to grab a new mouthful of grass or to enjoy the view of…well, basically nothing now that we’re losing even more daylight.

On the verge of being drenched and slightly annoyed that Mr. Goat doesn’t walk at warp speed, we finally turn onto the road where the white farmhouse sits just up ahead of us.

“Sparrow Lane?” My brows shoot up in surprise. “Oh, my gosh! I found it! Sparrow Lane!” I turn to Mr. Goat ready to give him a high five when I quickly remember he is, in fact, a goat. So, I pat him on the head instead. “Thank you, Mr. Goat! You helped me find where I’m going. I was looking for Sparrow Lane before I found you.”

Aunt Rosie and Uncle Javan live somewhere on this road and with any luck, Mr. Goat’s owner will know which way to direct me. Not seeing anyone milling about in the front yard, because who would do that in the rain or the dark, I step up to the front door and knock three times.

No answer.

I knock again. “Hello? Is anyone home?” Hearing several other goat noises coming from the small barn next to the house, I feel quite certain this is Mr. Goat’s home.

I knock a third time. “Hello? I think I found your goat!”

Finally, I see a figure walking to the front door. He pulls the curtain to the side and peers outside and hooooly hell. If there was an award to be given for the world’s sexiest farmer, he would win Grand Champion, hands down. No contest. He opens the door and my jaw nearly unhinges from my face. Standing in front of me now is a man at least a foot taller than my five-five frame, wearing what looks to be nothing except a pair of dark denim overalls. No shirt underneath giving me plenty of brawny muscle to look at, and judging by the way they hang on him, I’m pretty damn sure he’s not wearing underwear. Unless he’s sporting a thong under that denim, and he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who would enjoy a constant wedgie, the man is buck-naked. Not even a pair of socks on his feet.

His darkened hair is wet and mussed as if it was just recently towel dried, a few stray water droplets still dripping down his face. For a second I feel bad—he must’ve been out in the rain like me, looking for his lost goat, but when he steps forward and I get a whiff of his soapy scent, I realize he must’ve just stepped out of the shower.

His crystal blue eyes peer back at me in a bird-like stare and he says nothing, making this first meeting between us extremely awkward.

“Uh…hi.” I give him my friendliest smile. “I’m…uh…I’m Paige. Paige Starling.”

You would think this is where the hot guy says something like “Hello Paige Starling. Thank you for finding my goat. You’re sexy as hell and dripping wet so why don’t you come in and let me give you a proper thank you until this rain passes?”

Wishful thinking, eh?

But alas. He doesn’t say any of that.

In fact, he says nothing.

I guess he’s a man of few words.

“Um, anyway, I think I found your goat?”

I wait again for him to say something…anything…but he doesn’t. He merely stands in the doorway watching me. Listening.

“It’s a funny story, really.” I laugh nervously. “I was driving down the road lost because I’ve been trying to follow the map my father drew me instead of pulling up directions on my phone, and when I looked up I almost hit Mr. Goat here.” I gesture to my new friend. “I pulled over into the dirt and got out to check on him. It seemed like maybe he was lost and then I saw this house. Uh, I mean your house, and so I hoped maybe he belonged to you.”

The hot farmer opens his door wider and I exhale a thankful breath that he’s about to invite me in.

“Winston,” he says. His face is expressionless as Mr. Goat walks right into the house like he owns the place.

Does he own the place?

Can a goat own a house?

Goats live in houses now?

My brows shoot up in surprise over what I just witnessed. “Oh. He lives…in…wow…he lives with you? I mean like with you , with you?” I shake my head knowing how judgy that must’ve sounded. “I mean, yeah, of course he does. That’s so cool. Winston? His name is Winston? Your uh…your pet goat, Winston.”

I rock back on my heels not knowing what to say because this super-hot but either extremely arrogant or ridiculously dumb farmer doesn’t seem to have anything else to say to me even though I’m still standing outside getting wetter and wetter as the seconds tick by.

“Great. Well, I’m glad you have your pet goat back, Sir. I’ll just…” I hitch my thumb behind me. “I’ve got to get back to my—Oh wait!” I snap my fingers. “I almost forgot. I’m supposed to be staying at my Aunt Rosie and Uncle Javan’s home while they’re away traveling. They’re on Sparrow Lane but it’s so dark now I’m afraid I might miss their house number. They’re at seventeen Sparrow Lane. Do you happen to know where that is? Is Sparrow Lane a particularly long?—”

He interrupts me with a lift of his arm, pointing to a small cottage-like house on the other side of the street and up about fifty yards. “There.”

“Oh.” I raise my brows. “Seriously? I’m really that close?” I chuckle, smiling at him even though he doesn’t return the gesture. “Wow. Okay. Well, that’s lucky isn’t it? I guess we’re going to be neighbors for a little while then. Thank you so much for the uh…for the help. I should get back to my car so I can…” I gesture to my aunt and uncle’s house. “You know. Get settled in and what not.”

“Thanks for Winston.”

I almost gasp.

Holy shit Winston’s hot dad said three words!

In a row!

“Yeah! Of course! Anytime! I guess I’m lucky I almost ran into him.” My smile falters and my eyes go wide. “I mean I’m glad I didn’t. You know. Hit him, I mean. I would’ve spent the whole next month sobbing had I hit him.” I wipe my hand across my brow as I step back from the hot farmer’s door. “Phew. Anyway, thanks again. I’ll uh…I guess I’ll see you around.”

Once again, Winston’s dad says nothing. He merely lifts his chin, watching me before closing the door and leaving me to walk back to my car in the cold dark rain by myself.

I know.

What a gentleman.

Since I don’t have a goat to keep track of, I jog back to my car and make it in about five minutes. I squeeze some excess water from my shirt before hopping into my car and then rub my hands together trying to warm up. I start the car and put it in reverse to get myself out of the dirt and back onto the road, but when I step on the gas, Daisy goes nowhere. Her tires spin and spin but there is no movement.

“You have got to be shitting me.” I moan, throwing the car into drive. “Okay, let’s go forward then.”

I step on the gas again and move forward only a little which puts Daisy even further into the mud trap I unknowingly drove into when trying to dodge Winston the goat.

“Fuuuck!” Laying my head back on the headrest, I squeeze my eyes closed and take a deep breath. “What the heck am I supposed to do now?”

I pull out my phone but know in the back of my head that I don’t know anybody in this town. My parents and grandparents are hours away and Aunt Rosie and Uncle Javan are already out of town. Nobody would be able to get here to help me anytime soon.

Maybe Winston’s dad?

I could walk back to his house and kindly ask for his help. I mean, it’s the least he could do for my returning his lost goat. But he also doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy who would be willing to drop everything just to help little old me, the new stranger in town, out of a ditch. Sitting in the warmth of the car, I take a few minutes to think through any and all strategies but come up with nothing that’s going to get me out of this ditch before morning. I could either lock myself in this car and sleep in here for the night, or I could grab a bag or two and walk back towards Sparrow Lane so I can spend the night in a warm house with a phone and internet connection.

“Definitely option two. A hot shower would sure be nice too and then I can call someone for help in the morning when I’m thinking more clearly.”

The rain falls harder now and I watch in despair knowing I’m going to have to walk in this mess one more time.

It’s not the end of the world.

Just get to the house and you’re golden.

Taking a few breaths to bolster my bravery, I grab one rolling suitcase, my purse, and one duffle bag. I say good night to Daisy, promising her I’ll take good care of her in the morning, and begin my walk back to Sparrow Lane.