2. Emma
Emma
A s I hang my few clothes in the small closet, a strange noise filters through from outside—a sort of insistent bleating that grows steadily louder. I pause, a faded shirt still in my hands, and tilt my head to listen.
The bleating continues, more determined now.
Curious, I move to the window and push aside the curtain. The small white goat from earlier is trotting purposefully across the grass toward my cottage. Her little hooves kick up with speed, her eyes fixed on my cottage like she’s on a mission.
Before I wonder what she wants, she hops onto my tiny porch with an agile leap that belies her stocky body. She turns once in a circle, then butts her head against my door with a solid thunk that makes the frame rattle.
“What in the world?” I murmur, cautiously opening the door a crack.
That tiny opening is all she needs. The goat immediately wedges her nose into the gap and pushes, making the door swing wide despite my resistance.
Jeez. Even the farm animals are more confident than I am!
“Hey! No, you can’t come in,” I protest, trying to block her with my leg. My shin connects with her fuzzy head, but she’s undeterred, pushing harder against me. The warmth of her body presses against my calf as she bleats indignantly at being denied entry.
“Maple! Leave the new girl alone!” A gruff voice bellows from across the lawn.
I look up to see a tall, dark-haired figure striding toward us, Liam, the alpha I’d seen in the paddocks on the way to the cottage.
Now that he’s closer, I can make out his features more clearly: a firm jaw darkened by several days’ worth of stubble, broad shoulders that strain against his faded red flannel, and eyes that remind me of stormy blue skies.
His expression hovers between annoyance and apology, his brows drawn together as he quickens his pace.
“Sorry,” he calls as he approaches. “She’s a menace—always where she shouldn’t be.”
The goat, Maple, continues her determined effort to enter my cottage, bleating again, the sound almost indignant, as if my resistance personally offends her.
Liam grabs her pink collar, tugging her gently but firmly away from the door. “What’s gotten into you?” he mutters to the animal, who responds by trying to yank free of his grip.
Although he hasn’t looked at me yet, I can’t help but notice how attractive he is.
Not in a traditionally handsome sort of way, more like he just rolled out of bed—but somehow manages to look incredibly sexy.
He’s easily over six feet, but despite his size, there’s a gentleness in how he handles the goat, his large hands careful as he restrains her and tries to soothe her.
“She’s usually not like this.”
I force myself to relax my shoulders, to appear unbothered by his proximity. “It’s okay,” I say, keeping my voice even despite my pulse picking up. “She’s cute.”
“She’s a troublemaker.” He gives the goat a look that contradicts his words, fond and indulgent.
Maple bleats again, louder this time, pulling against Liam’s grip with such apparent yearning that a small laugh escapes me. “She seems to have an opinion about me.”
And that’s when the delicious aroma of fresh smoky bourbon reaches me despite my suppressants, and I jolt, taking a small step back.
Liam finally looks up, and his eyes meet mine.
Something shifts in his expression, slightly widening his eyes and parting his lips. His pupils dilate, and I watch his throat work as he swallows. Then he takes a small step back, his grip on Maple’s collar loosening just enough.
Maple seizes her opportunity.
She shoots forward, evading Liam’s hold and darting between my legs before I close the door. She’s inside my cottage instantly, prancing victoriously toward my open suitcase on the floor.
“Maple!” Liam growls, ducking through the doorway after her.
I spin around just in time to see the goat rummaging through my clothes.
“No, no, no!” I lunge forward, but I’m too late.
Maple’s head emerges triumphantly, with something dangling from her mouth.
Something purple.
Something distinctly phallic.
Oh. My. Gawwd.
My big purple dildo.
The thing I’d hidden at the very bottom of my suitcase, wrapped in a sweater for discretion. Something to remind me I’m still a person with needs despite everything that’s happened.
Time slows to a horrifying crawl as Maple prances away, my silicone companion bobbing obscenely from her mouth like some demented trophy.
Liam freezes, his eyes widening. A hot red flush creeps up his neck, disappearing into his stubble. He blinks rapidly, as if trying to make sure what he’s seeing is real.
“Oh, shiii……” he starts, then clears his throat. “I’ll get her.”
But Maple has other plans.
With a bleat that sounds suspiciously like laughter, she darts around Liam, evades my desperate grab, and bolts out the still-open door.
“Shit!” Liam curses, charging after her.
I stand paralyzed for exactly two seconds before the full horror of the situation hits me.
A goat is running loose around my new workplace with my sex toy in its mouth!
My very large, very purple sex toy.
“Fuck,” I mutter, then sprint after them.
Outside, Maple is galloping across the lawn toward the main farmhouse, my dildo bouncing cheerfully with each leap. Liam is in hot pursuit, his long legs eating up the distance between them, but the goat is surprisingly nimble, zigzagging to avoid capture.
“Maple! Bad goat!” Liam calls. “Come back here!”
I push myself harder, wheezing. “This can’t be happening,” I mutter between gasps. “This literally cannot be happening on my first day.”
Maple drops the dildo onto the grass, staring Liam down as he charges her. As soon as he gets close, she picks it back up—now covered in grass and dirt—and darts in the opposite direction.
Several farmworkers turn to watch the spectacle. Seeing one of their bosses chasing the goat with the new hire not far behind, their expressions shift from curiosity to confusion to amusement when they see what the goat has in her mouth.
Heat floods my face, burning to the tips of my ears. I can’t keep running, huffing and puffing. I put my hands on my knees to catch my breath.
I want to die.
I want the earth to open up and swallow me whole.
I catch my breath and return to my pursuit, my face burning hotter by the second as I stumble across the uneven ground.
Maple veers sharply toward the farmhouse porch, where I can see Theo arranging decorative gourds. He looks up at the commotion.
“Catch her!” Liam shouts.
Theo’s reflexes are good. He moves quickly to intercept the goat, arms outstretched to block her path. But Maple is better. She feints left, then dodges right between his legs, leaving him grabbing at air. Then, with a triumphant bleat, she bounds up the porch steps.
“What in the—” Theo begins, then stops abruptly as he spots what’s in Maple’s mouth. His eyebrows shoot up toward his hairline, his mouth forming a perfect ‘O’ of surprise. He lets out a booming laugh in reaction.
I skid to a halt at the bottom of the steps, mortification rendering me temporarily immobile. Liam takes them two at a time.
“Give me that, you little demon,” he growls, cornering Maple against the wall.
The goat looks at him, then me, as if calculating her options. Then, with what I swear is a gleam of mischief in her eyes, she drops my purple companion at Liam’s feet with a wet plop—covered in muck and slobber, with little goat-shaped bite marks up and down its shaft.
Silence falls.
Terrible, excruciating silence.
Liam stares at the dildo, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.
Theo stares at the dildo, his lips twitching with the effort not to smile.
I stare at the dildo, wishing for spontaneous combustion or perhaps a convenient sinkhole.
Finally, Liam bends down and—oh gawwd—picks it up.
His massive hand dwarfs what I’d considered a pretty big dick as he straightens, his nostrils flaring. He wipes the slobber off on his jeans, gently brushing the grass and leaves off.
Theo clears his throat. “Well,” he says, “that’s one way to make a first impression.”
“Theo,” Liam warns, his voice a low rumble.
I force myself to climb the steps, dignity in tatters but determined to salvage what I can of this catastrophe. “I’ll take that,” I say, extending my hand and praying my voice doesn’t crack.
Liam’s eyes meet mine before carefully placing the toy in my palm.
“Sorry about Maple,” he says gruffly. “She’s… a tyrant.”
“And apparently has excellent taste in chew toys,” Theo adds, earning a death glare from Liam.
Is it possible to die of embarrassment? Because that would solve several of my current problems.
I clutch my dildo to my chest. “I should… go put this away,” I manage.
Theo steps forward, still a hint of amusement in his eyes, mercifully drawing attention away from me.
“I’ll take Maple to her pen. She’s done enough damage for one day.” He grabs the goat’s collar, but not before she bleats at me again, almost apologetically.
I nod stiffly and turn to flee, but Liam’s voice stops me.
“Emma.”
I look back, bracing myself. But his expression is soft. “Don’t worry, by tomorrow, someone will have done something more embarrassing… probably Theo.”
“Hey!” Theo protests, but he’s grinning, dimples appearing in his cheeks.
I manage a weak smile and nod before hurrying back to my cottage, purple evidence clutched tightly in my hand. Behind me, I hear Theo’s laughter finally break free, followed by what sounds like a smack and an “ow!” that suggests Liam might have punched his arm.
Back in my cottage, I shut the door and lean against it, closing my eyes and taking several deep breaths.
So much for not attracting attention.
On my first day at Harvest Home Farm , I’ve managed to:
Have my sex toy stolen by a goat.
Create a spectacle in front of the entire staff.
Have said sex toy handled by the very large (very sexy) alpha who lives next door.
“Great job, Emma,” I mutter. “Really nailing the whole ‘forgettable seasonal employee’ thing.”
I open my eyes and look down at the slobbery dildo in my hand, covered in goat teeth marks.
Then I start to laugh, quietly at first, then louder, until tears stream down my face. Because really, what else can I do?
So much for staying invisible.