12. Daycare For Goats
12
Daycare For Goats
We didn't tackle well today, but we made up for it by not blocking.
-John McKay
Dylan
Natalie and Ellie were napping together when I got home.
Natalie was curled up in a tight little ball, her head on the arm of the couch and her arm hanging off and down into the pack-and-play where Ellie was sleeping. Natalie’s hand rested on the baby’s back, rising and falling with every breath. Neither of them stirred when I opened the door.
I stared for a moment, just taking in the scene. Natalie had her dirty blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, but strands had gotten loose while she’d slept and now haloed around her face, giving her an angelic look. Not that she needed help looking like an angel, she was beautiful. Her mouth opened slightly and she sighed in her sleep. I held my breath, not wanting to wake her or the baby.
A fierce protective pride washed over me. It was primal and deep, a masculine urge to fight a hungry lion to keep these two women safe. They were mine .
Which made me scoff at myself. I didn’t own either of these two women. Definitely not Natalie, and I had just told Alex that I was thinking of giving Ellie up for adoption. Since the DNA test wasn’t done yet, I wasn’t even sure if Ellie truly even was mine.
Still, the feeling remained. Not possessive, but protective. I wanted them both safe and happy and I knew deep in the core of my being that I would do just about anything to make sure that happened.
“You’re back.” Natalie smiled at me, her voice still rough and full of sleep. She sat up, rubbing her eyes and attempting to smooth her hair back into the ponytail. “Looks like we were having a good nap.”
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” I said, dropping my gym bag at the front door and heading to the kitchen to make something with protein for a snack.
She looked at her watch and shrugged. “We actually just had a very good two hour nap. It was time for me to wake up anyway.”
From the pack and play, Ellie gurgled, letting us know that she was also awake. I stopped making my snack and went to pick her up. She smiled at me and my heart melted as I snuggled her into me, her little hands fisting into my shirt. Suddenly, I wasn’t nearly as cranky about all the missed sleep last night. How could I be when Ellie so obviously wanted me to hold her?
“Aw, I think she missed you.” Natalie swung her legs off the couch and stood, stretching her hands over her head. I had to turn away so I wouldn’t get caught staring at her lithe body and the little strip of skin between her shirt and shorts.
“I’ll make her a bottle,” Natalie said, heading toward the kitchen. “You sit and rest.”
“I can do it,” I said, but the couch did seem to be calling my name.
Natalie smiled at me. “You worked today. I got to nap with a baby. I can make the bottle.”
I wasn’t about to complain or fight her on it. I was tired and sitting on the couch sounded amazing. The whir of the bottle maker hummed as I smiled at my daughter and enjoyed the quiet of the house.
Which suddenly made me very nervous. The house should not be this quiet.
“Where’s Penelope?” I asked, hoping my voice sounded calmer than I suddenly felt. I had images of the goat roaming the apartment hallways or perhaps she was sleeping in my bed. She was a nice goat, but I did not want her in my bed and my sheets smelling like barn.
“On the roof.” Natalie handed me the bottle.
“What?” The roof was not a place for a goat either.
Natalie laughed. “She’s with Marnie.”
“Who?” I needed better one word questions because I was just getting more confused. Ellie fussed and I realized I was just holding the bottle, not giving it to her. I quickly stuck it in her mouth and she made a happy sigh.
“My Aunt Marnie,” Natalie finally clarified. “She owns half the building and has a very nice garden up on the roof attached to the penthouse suite. She said she’d love to have the goat up there to eat all her dead plants.”
I just stared at her.
“Marnie is obsessed with that garden,” Natalie continued. “She has been talking about renting a goat for months to get the ‘all natural’ weeding experience, although I don’t know how a goat is going to be better at pulling weeds from planters it than just doing it yourself. Maybe in a real farm setting, but in planters?”
“So you gave her mine?” I managed to break into the monologue.
“I told her I had access to a goat through someone at work,” Natalie explained. “You were not mentioned in any way. She will keep the goat for one week from sunrise to sunset. She’s sent me pictures, and I think that Penelope is having the time of her life.”
She handed me her phone and I scrolled through over a dozen pictures of an older women with the same shape nose as Natalie posing with Penelope. Her garden looked like something the local botanic gardens would grow. It was a lot more than just a couple of planter boxes filled with petunias.
“It’s only for the next week and a half though,” Natalie explained. “She’s planting her mums and late autumn plants, so the garden will be off limits. But we’ve got goat daycare for the week!”
“Definitely better than hiding her in my bathtub,” I agreed.
Goat day care. There was something I never thought I would have to deal with in my life, yet here we were.
I held out the phone for Natalie to take back. She slipped it into her back pocket before joining me on the couch. Even though she sat a respectable distance apart from me, it still had my heart speeding up. I wondered if it was just my imagination or if I really could feel the heat of her from this far away. Was that her perfume? She smelled amazing.
“So, any luck on finding Ellie’s mom?” Natalie asked, oblivious to the sudden tightness in my chest and the fact that I was sure my voice was going to squeak coming out like I was twelve years old and talking to my crush again.
“No.” Thank God my voice didn’t crack. I also decided not to mention the Cinderella boob option. I wanted her to like me. “All I know is that she said something about a ‘damn player’ to the front desk person. That’s our only clue.”
“I knew that you weren’t the city’s favorite player right now, but that seems harsh,” she replied, crossing her legs. I noticed that they crossed in my direction and I prayed that the “body language expert” from the day time talk shows was right and that meant she was into me.
“I get the feeling that you aren’t really a football fan,” I said, remembering how she’d reacted to the sport when I’d met her.
She winced, then covered it with a nervous smile. “It’s not you. It’s...”
“It’s a spectacle for the masses. Bread and circuses of the millennial man. A modern day gladiator fight in which tribal alliances can have a safe outlet for violence,” I offered, using my snootiest voice.
She gaped at me.
“I get it,” I said with a shrug. “It looks violent and brain dead.”
“I wouldn’t say it quite like that...” But her blush said otherwise. “You don’t seem brain dead.”
“Given the entire goat and diaper debacle of yesterday, I would beg to differ,” I replied with a self-deprecating chuckle. “But there is a mental part to the game that I do love.”
“There’s a mental part? You sure?” She raised her eyebrows, obviously making fun of me. “Sorry. That’s mean.”
I laughed, liking her teasing. “It’s a simple game, but the simple things are usually the most difficult to get right,” I replied. “There’s a fair amount of strategy that goes into every play, and a lot of that depends on the team and utilizing one another’s strengths.”
She raised her eyebrows again. “Utilizing one another’s strengths?” she repeated. “That sounds like jargon.”
I grinned. “Have you ever worked with a group of people that just get it? That absolutely understand what the goal is and are all working toward it in a way that helps the group?” I asked.
She nodded solemnly. “It’s the best days of the job.”
“It’s a rush,” I agreed. “Between figuring out the best path and working with people that also see that path, it’s the best game in the world.”
“You’re making it sound a little less awful,” she admitted, bumping me gently with her shoulder. I caught a scent of her shampoo when she did it, something light and coconut. It was fabulous.
“What about you?” I asked, trying to keep my head on straight. “Why do you work at a hospital?”
“Well, your whole spiel about working with people to accomplish something? That’s a good day in the ER,” she replied. “Also, it’s an adrenaline rush. There’s always crazy stuff going on. It is never boring, and I really like getting to help people.”
She lit up as she spoke, her entire body becoming animated. Her eyes sparkled and she gained energy as she smiled and explained herself.
“You love it,” I said, watching her sparkle. “Which is why you don’t want to quit to be a full-time Ellie-sitter.”
She laughed at the new word. “I wouldn’t mind being a full-time Ellie-sitter, but I have a scholarship and dreams. I have to have a certain number of hours to qualify for the scholarship, but once I do, the hospital will pay for school.”
“And you’ll become a more professional nurse?” I asked.
“Kind of. I’ll be a nurse practitioner which will mean I can do a lot more to help my patients,” she explained.
“And I’m guessing that kind of schooling is expensive?”
“Very. Especially the school that I was accepted into,” she agreed. “But the hospital has ties with them, so I can get the entire thing covered. I can’t afford it without their help, even with the very generous salary you’ve offered.”
I nodded. “That’s why you don’t want to call in sick.”
“Yup. I’m registered to start school in a few weeks, but if I don’t have the hours, the hospital won’t pay. That’s why I can’t call in sick. I can’t even call in dead.”
I laughed and realized that our legs were touching. Not much, just our knees bumping together without either of us noticing it.
I felt like I was twelve and sitting next to Jennifer Lynston at lunch. How did Natalie have that effect on me? It wasn’t everyday that a woman made me feel like I could go back in time.
“I should get going,” she said, clearing her throat and standing up. I wondered if she’d noticed our knees touching like I had.
“Thanks for this morning,” I replied. “I’m glad this is working out.”
She grinned at me, and it was Jennifer Lynston all over again. Suddenly I could smell cafeteria food and craved chocolate milk.
Hopefully it didn’t end with her breaking up with me via passed note during fifth period. I don’t know if I could live with that kind of heartbreak a second time.