Chapter 8 Pig and Goats and Burros, Oh My!
pig and goats and burros, oh my!
DUKE
What the hell was I thinking, touching that woman during yoga?
Now, my fingers are itching for more of her toned, soft skin. At first, I thought it was silly that Roxanne showed up to sunrise yoga in a mock neck cropped sweatshirt, but as she moved, I caught delightful glimpses of her slender waist.
I pause as I disinfect the last yoga mat.
The class has been over for ten minutes, but I couldn’t stop thinking about Roxanne.
She had no right looking as good as she did stretching in the morning light.
She was stunning with her long, lean body, stretching into those poses, her muscles flexing, and her hair slipping over one shoulder.
Nope.
Not going to waste thoughts on her. I’m especially not going to think about the whimper that escaped her … mercy. I loved hearing her make that sound, and the way her skin bloomed pink after she caught herself falling apart from my touch.
The worst part is that when Roxanne stormed off in a huff, instead of being relieved she was gone, I missed having the fight.
You’re in deep shit, Faraday.
I clench my jaw, forcing myself to move, to do something other than stand there like an idiot, obsessing over a woman who has the warmth of a winter squall.
After a quick shower and a change of clothes, I hustle back to the lodge so we can go on a tour of the animal areas before we sign our paperwork and officially start the contest.
I hear Allie giggling while Leo chats in his signature baritone. Before my eyes can sweep the room for Little Miss Sunshine, both Topper and Rusty grab each of my arms and pull me to the side.
“Boy, I’m warning you,” Rusty growls.
“I’m begging you to be nice,” Topper insists.
“I haven’t done anything!” I say, wrenching my arms out from their grasp.
“You will,” Rusty says.
Topper leans in. “You’ve got that look in your eyes.”
“Whoa, are we on a date?” I push Topper back. “Back up, brother.”
Rusty puts his hand up. “He’s serious, Duke. You need to be on your best behavior, starting now.”
“I—”
“Promise us,” Topper pleads.
“I promise,” I reply. “Listen, one of you can lead the tour. I’ll hang in the back.”
“Or.” Topper shrugs. “You could ride into town … for the summer.”
“Both of you relax, okay.” I take a step back from them and straighten my sleeves. “I solemnly swear that I’ll be on my best behavior.”
“If you aren’t, you’re on stall duty for a week,” Rusty warns.
I follow Topper and Rusty out into the lobby where Allie, Leo, and Roxanne are waiting.
As soon as I see Roxanne, I bite my lip to keep from shouting.
Allie and Leo are dressed in jeans and respectable shirts with sturdy shoes.
Roxanne, on the other hand, is still dressed in her yoga pants, cropped sweatshirt, and flip-flops.
Fucking flip-flops.
“Wow, that yoga was something else,” Allie says, turning to me. “Thanks for a great class.”
“My pleasure, ma’am,” I say, tipping the bill of my cap.
Roxanne remains seated, bobbing her crossed leg up and down, the damn flip-flop dangling off her toes taunting me. Her face is buried in her notebook.
I can’t stop staring at her. Rusty and Topper’s words echo in my brain, so I decide to ask Roxanne about her poor choice of footwear as nicely as I possibly can.
I clear my throat. “You may want something other than those flip-flops when we walk through the animal areas. There’s a lot of uneven terrain, mud and manure out there.”
“I’ll be fine,” she says without meeting my eyes.
I sit beside her hoping that might get her attention. “So you’re going to wear those through active pastures, horse paddocks, and barns. You know what that tells me?”
She rolls her eyes before glancing up and pinning me with that fiery gaze.
My chest tightens.
“What? What does it tell you?” she asks.
“That you don’t give a damn about what you’re doing here.”
“Excuse me?”
“You show up underdressed and unprepared, like this is some vacation, not a project that could change lives. If you don’t even care enough to put on the right shoes, why should I believe you care about making a pitch that will help us win the money?”
She shoots up from the leather sofa. “I can do my job no matter what shoes I’m wearing.”
Roxanne’s elevated voice gets Rusty’s attention. “What did I just say to you, Duke?”
I stand slowly and close the gap between us. I know she doesn’t need a lecture and truth is, I’m more worried than mad. The last thing I want is her getting hurt. Still, I can’t shake the feeling she’d rather be anywhere but here and for some reason, that bothers me more than it should.
“Who makes the final decision on whether we get the money or not?” I ask, ignoring the flicker of warning in Rusty’s eyes.
Leo and Allie exchange glances before Leo answers. “Sullivan Rhodes, the owner of Uncharted TV.”
“But one of you decides first and then you pitch it to him?”
“Stand down, Faraday,” Topper warns.
“Who decides?” I insist.
“I do,” Roxanne says, folding her arms across her chest. “It’s ultimately up to me, which is why I suggest you adjust your attitude.”
“We do important work here,” I say. “We help a lot of people. My attitude shouldn’t matter.”
“Well, it does! It does matter! It’s making it impossible to be in your presence, which I need to be if I’m going to truly understand how this place functions.”
“That’s enough, Duke. Tour starts now,” Rusty says. “Roxanne can walk with me. D, you can bring up the rear where you belong.”
Roxanne smiles at Rusty, tosses one last look over her shoulder—enough to vaporize me—and walks out. Allie and Leo follow. I’m two steps from the door when Topper blocks me with an outstretched arm. “Do you want to save me the time and admit that you were being a horse’s ass just now?”
I rub the back of my neck. “You’re right, but—”
“The only butt in this scenario is yours when I kick it if you don’t get with the program, man.”
“I’m sorry. I—”
“Listen,” Topper shoves his hands in his pockets.
“I hear you. I know that you’re anxious about all of this.
Flip-flops are fucking ridiculous, but Roxanne is our guest. If that’s what she wants to wear, so what?
And yes, it is a concern that the person who holds our fate in her hands doesn’t seem like she wants to be here, but instead of going off half-cocked, why don’t you try being nice and making her feel more at ease? ”
I grab Topper by the shoulder. “All right … yeah.”
“I mean, I get that you’ve got a thing for Roxanne, but you’ve got to keep it together, man.”
“Of course I have a thing. She pisses me off.”
“Right. I’ve never seen a woman get under your skin so fast.” Topper follows me out of the lodge. “I’d love to sit back, eat popcorn, and watch the bonfire between you two rage on if our very lives didn’t depend on her having a good experience here.”
“Heard and understood. I’ll be nice.”
We catch up to Rusty and the others as they stop near the horse paddock.
“You know what,” I say. “I think I’ll go get Jameson. It’s about time to get him out of the house.”
“Good idea, maybe take an extra hour to cool off,” Topper adds before he hops out of the cart.
Jameson is the best judge of character I know, so if he likes Roxanne, then maybe, maybe I’ll give her a chance. I find him at the house lying on his back in the kitchen on a strip of sunshine that’s filtering through the window.
“Jameson, want to go for a ride?”
He rolls over and is on his stubby feet in a split second.
He loves golf cart rides mostly because it means he doesn’t have to walk.
When we find the others, they are about to enter the mixed animal pen.
Goats, our pig named Barry, as well as a couple of turkeys and our burro, Priscilla, roam around in there during the day.
Roxanne sticks to the fence while everyone else interacts with the animals.
Rusty hands out carrots and apples to Leo and Allie, who giggle while the animals swarm them. Jameson barks when he enters the pen, and then trots over to Rusty looking for his handout.
“If Priscilla the donkey tries to nibble on your clothes, just shoo her away,” Rusty says.
Leo’s eyes widen, while Allie laughs. “Thank goodness my flannel is not Armani.”
Jameson plods away from us after he catches sight of Roxanne.
He bounds toward her with his tongue slapping the side of his face along the way.
He’s just excited, but the look on Roxanne’s face suggests that she doesn’t know that my bulldog is a playful mound of dough.
I hustle over to her, but it’s too late.
Roxanne jumps when Jameson licks her pretty, polished toes.
“Um, is this your dog?”
“Whoa.” I feign surprise. “I don’t know whose dog this is.”
“What?” she says, inching backward. “It keeps licking my toes.”
I laugh and bend down, scratching Jameson in his favorite spot right behind his ears. “Just kidding. This is the master of the ranch, Jameson.”
She grimaces. “How cute.”
“If he licks your toes, it means he likes you.”
“Terrific.”
Jameson sits, wags his nub tail, and stares at Roxanne with his mouth open, waiting for her to pet him. She tilts her head as if she’s not sure what to do.
“Have you ever had a dog?” I ask. “He wants you to pet him.”
She purses her lips. “Yes, when I was a kid.” Finally, she leans down and scratches Jameson behind the ear.
He’s so excited, he throws his full weight into her and knocks her to the ground.
I half expect her to shoot to her feet and storm off, but she adjusts, sits, and gives Jameson the attention he demands.
Damn.
He likes her.
To my surprise, one of our rescue turkeys, Nellie, waddles over to see what the commotion is about.
Topper offers Roxanne a handful of corn. “She loves these.”
Roxanne smiles and extends her hand, but flinches when Nellie’s beak taps her palm. Then she laughs and keeps going, feeding Nellie until her hand is empty. “Where did she come from?”
“We got her from another Colorado sanctuary that burned down in a wildfire,” I say. “She’s usually cautious of newcomers.”
My mouth almost hits the dirt when Nellie stretches her neck a few times and then steps into Roxanne’s lap resting her head on Sunshine’s shoulder.
“Whoa,” Topper says. “Never seen that before.”
Allie gasps and pulls out her phone. “This is unreal. Rox! You’re the turkey whisperer.”
“That turkey only squawked at me,” Leo says, shaking left over corn from his hands.
Everyone forms a circle around Roxanne as she strokes Nellie’s feathers. Her glacial blue eyes meet mine, steady and unbothered. Most people blink and look away when I catch them staring. But she doesn’t blink. Doesn’t flinch.
I should walk away right now. There’s work to do—chores, fences, bills—but my boots feel glued to the dirt.
All I can do is stand here, watching a woman with hay in her hair cradle a turkey like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
There’s now a thud in my chest that echoes like boots on a wooden floor.
Roxanne is smiling back at me, this proud, happy smile, like she’s won the round and proved those damn flip-flops didn’t hold her back after all.
“Where are you going?” Topper calls as I open the gate to the pen.
“Uh, have some work I need to do. Y’all can finish the tour without me. Come on, Jameson. Let’s go.”
Jameson hops into the golf cart, and I drive off straight to the barn.
If I stood there one second longer, I might do something stupid, like smile back.