Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Lennix
Several Months Later
Something low and rumbly vibrated right beside my ear, forcing me out of a wonderful sleep in which I’d been dreaming that Henry Cavill—dressed in those delicious leather pants he wore in The Witcher and nothing else—was professing his undying devotion to me.
I fought against the tug of consciousness, wanting to stay in the dream world as long as possible—I hadn’t even gotten to grab Henry’s ass yet—but the sound grew louder, more insistent, and a second later, something extremely heavy and very furry plopped over my face, blocking my airways.
I let out a muffled grunt and reached up to grab the thing trying to suffocate me.
“All right, all right.” I grumbled as I shoved the cantankerous cat off my face and glared at him.
“Are you happy now?” Unbothered by the fact he’d clam-jammed his momma in her dream, he let out another loud purr that sounded like a lawnmower as he climbed onto my belly and began making biscuits against my sternum.
“Damn you.” I scowled at my cat as I did my best to push to sitting without jostling him off my stomach. “It’s really hard to stay mad at you when you’re being all cute and cuddly.”
That hadn’t always been the case. When I first got Pirate, he’d been untrusting and wary of all humans.
Not that I blamed him one bit. He’d been abused for years before ending up on the streets.
I found him rummaging through the dumpster behind The Tap Room one day a little over a year ago, and it had taken an hour, more scratches than I could count, and a tetanus booster to get him safely into a carrier and to the vet’s office.
He’d been so skinny I could see his ribs through his dirty, matted fur, and he was covered in tics and fleas.
I rushed him right over to Hardin Drake, a family friend and the local vet.
After a surgery where Hardin had to reset a broken leg that had healed incorrectly, and unfortunately remove his left eye that was too damaged to repair, I brought the poor thing home with me.
I was a sucker for animals of any kind. Always had been. It was a part of growing up on a ranch.
For my eighteenth birthday, my parents had gifted me a small section of Safe Haven Ranch to call my own, and I’d known exactly what plot of land I wanted.
The acreage I’d chosen had been taken out of rotation for cattle years ago because it was a pain to access and had too much rock coverage for optimal grazing.
But it had been perfect for what I had in mind.
The small cabin that sat on it had been abandoned for at least a decade, but I wasn’t afraid of a challenge.
With a lot of TLC, some elbow grease, a bazillion splinters, and enough curse words to make a sailor stand up and applaud, I managed to make the place habitable.
Now it was my cute, cozy sanctuary that was close enough to my family that I could see them whenever I wanted, but far enough away to give me some privacy.
It was also an added bonus that I didn’t have to worry about nosey neighbors.
Once the cabin was finished, I’d gotten to work on building a barn and small paddock.
My little spot of Safe Haven was meant to be a sanctuary for any and all animals in need of a safe, loving home.
My one-eyed cat, Pirate, was just one of several so far.
And he was now happy and healthy and the most affectionate cat I’d ever met.
Well, unless he was hungry. He could be a real bitch when it came to food.
Then again, so could I, so I didn’t judge.
If I slept later than he deemed acceptable, he’d let me know by trying to suffocate me.
He was still skittish around strangers, especially men, but he was slowly coming around.
He’d finally stopped sneak-attacking Zach every time he came over.
Now he just glared at him from the corner of the couch like he was plotting his murder.
My brother didn’t see that as progress, but I did.
Resting against the headboard of my bed, I scratched between Pirate’s ears as I scolded, “You know, if you smother me to death, there’ll be no one else to feed you, then where will you be?”
At my use of the f word, the sound of nails skittering across the hardwood floors filled the air, and a few seconds later, my dog, Ziggy, came barreling into my room.
He’d been dumped outside Hardin’s clinic as a puppy, and we could only guess his owners didn’t want him due to a birth defect that made amputation of one of his front legs necessary.
Hardin called me, knowing my love for all animals, and the moment I laid eyes on him once he was out of surgery, I knew we were meant to find each other.
He became my first rescue. As soon as he had the all clear, I brought him home with me and nursed him back to health.
The little guy zigged and zagged all over the place as he got used to only having three legs, hence the name.
“Fine, I’m up,” I groaned, rolling my eyes skyward.
I pushed Pirate off and threw my legs over the side of the bed as my ungrateful fur babies bolted out of the room and into the kitchen to await their breakfast. Neither of them seemed to give a damn that my job running The Tap Room and the attached brewery led to a lot of late nights.
There was no such thing as sleeping in as far as they were concerned.
I grabbed the fuzzy, oversized cardigan I loved to snuggle up in from the hook on my bedroom door and pulled it on over my sleep shorts and tank before padding down the hall after my animals.
I jerked to a stop as soon as I rounded the corner. “Damn it, Daisy,” I snapped, slamming my hands down on my hips. “I’ve told you a thousand times, that doggy door isn’t meant for you.”
The mahogany red mini-cow lifted her head from where she was lying, curled up on Ziggy’s dog bed by the fireplace, and cast me a bored glance.
I’d adopted the little diva from a family who thought she’d make a great indoor pet, but quickly found out they were wrong.
They didn’t have the outdoor space an animal like her required, so I brought her to live with me.
Only problem was, after spending so much time as an indoor cow, she thought she had free rein to come in and out as she pleased.
She used the doggy door I had installed for Ziggy whenever she decided she didn’t want to be outside any longer.
“You are not a house cow. Now, come on. Back outside.”
I waved my arm toward the back door, staring Daisy down until she finally let out a small moo I was sure was the bovine equivalent of telling me to fuck off.
She took her time pushing herself up and trotted through the house at a snail’s pace as I stood by the back door and waited.
I could have sworn she sent me the evil eye when I pulled it open and ushered her out.
“Don’t give me that look. We’ve had this conversation a million times. I made you a comfy home out in the barn. That’s where you belong.”
Her tail flicked as she sauntered down the back-porch steps.
Out in the pasture, my donkey, Dexter, let out an ear-splitting bray that never failed to make me cringe every time I heard it.
I lifted my hand to shield my eyes from the rising sun and looked out at the pasture.
Dexter stood at the fence, his lips pulled back over his large square teeth in the donkey version of a smile as he let loose another string of noises that grated against my ears worse than nails on a chalkboard.
“Good morning to you too, handsome,” I called back. Because, yes, I was the kind of woman who talked to her animals like they understood everything I was saying. And I was pretty sure they did. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll be out to feed you. He responded in turn with another god-awful sound.
I made quick work of taking care of Pirate and Ziggy, then slipped my feet into the rubber boots I kept in the mud room by the back door and headed out to the barn.
The second she heard the clomp of my boots on the concrete floor, Corona, the beautiful, gentle palomino I’d had since I was twelve, stuck her head over the door to her stall.
An instant grin took over my face at the sight of her.
We’d had countless pets growing up, and there was never any shortage of horses, but Corona had been the first animal that was one hundred percent mine alone.
I’d been responsible for her entire life from the moment my dad guided her out of the trailer for me to see.
I was responsible for feeding and watering, for mucking her stall and making sure she was exercised properly.
As soon as my barn was finished, I moved her from the main one out here with me.
She’d been the first animal in my new home, and while they all held special places in my heart, Corona’s was carved just a little deeper.
“There’s my beautiful girl,” I crooned as I reached up to rub between her eyes, running my fingers through her forelock. She pressed harder into my palm. My girl had always been affectionate, sometimes acting more like a giant dog than a horse.
Dexter’s bray broke through the still morning calm, and I chuckled as Corona looked off in the direction it had come from, her ears perking up.
She blew a gust of air out between her lips, impatience causing her to root at the floor of her stall with her front hoof.
I hadn’t been worried about bringing Dexter into the fold a few years ago.
Corona had always been good with other animals, but I hadn’t expected them to get along as well as they did.
Their relationship was something to behold.
I might have been her favorite human, but that wily little donkey was her favorite creature on four legs.
“I see how it is. Being thrown over for a literal jackass.” Corona let out another huff, her silent way of telling me to move my ass.