6. Emma
Emma
A flash of white catches my eye—Maple, somehow free again, prancing across the lawn in the twilight. She stops and looks directly at my window, as if she knows I’m watching.
“Troublemaker,” I murmur, but I’m smiling.
My phone pings again. Another notification, but not from Instagram this time. It’s a text message from a number I don’t recognize.
Unknown: Maple escaped. Probably heading your way. Don’t let her in unless you want another incident. -Liam
I stare at the message, my heart doing an unexpected little skip. How did he get my number?
Then my brain catches up—right, the hiring paperwork. Of course, they all have it. The real question is why the thought of Liam texting me makes my stomach do weird fluttery things instead of sending me into full panic mode?
As I’m contemplating how to respond, there’s a soft headbutt against my door, followed by an insistent bleating.
I laugh, grabbing a jacket and heading outside.
Maple stands on my tiny porch looking thoroughly pleased with herself.
“How do you keep getting out?” I ask, crouching down to her level. She responds by pressing her head against my hand, demanding scratches.
I pull out my phone and text Liam back:
Me: She’s here. No stolen items… yet.
The reply comes almost immediately.
Liam: I’ll come get her. Sorry.
I look at Maple, who’s now sitting contentedly at my feet, her pupils fixed on me with what seems like affection.
“Your keeper is coming for you,” I tell her, scratching behind her ears. She leans into my touch, eyes half-closing in bliss.
The night air carries a chill that wasn’t there during the day. It nips at my cheeks, and I pull my jacket tighter around myself, breathing in the scent of earth and damp leaves.
I hear Liam before I see him, the crunch of boots on gravel approaching at a steady pace. Then his tall figure materializes from the darkness, a flashlight beam bobbing with his movement.
“Found her, I see,” he says, his deep voice carrying easily in the quiet night.
“She found me,” I correct, still petting the goat. “I think she’s adopted me.”
Liam stops a respectful distance away, his face half-illuminated by the porch light.
“She usually avoids strangers.”
“So you’ve mentioned,” I say, fighting a smile. “Maybe I’m not strange enough.”
A huff of air escapes him, not quite a laugh, but close. “Maybe not.”
Maple bleats indignantly, as if reminding us of her presence.
“Come on, Troublemaker,” Liam says, reaching for her collar. “Time to go home.”
But Maple has other ideas. She darts behind my legs, using me as a shield.
Liam sighs. “She’s being difficult.”
“I don’t mind if she stays a bit,” I find myself saying. “Unless you need her for something?”
He hesitates. “She should be in the barn with the others, but…” He trails off, studying me with those intense eyes. “She seems determined to be here.”
An awkward silence falls between us, and I can’t seem to break away from his gaze.
I’m acutely aware of how isolated my cottage is, how dark the night has become, and how large Liam is compared to me.
Yet, strangely, I don’t feel afraid.
Every self-preservation instinct I’ve spent months honing should be screaming right now. Instead, I’m focused on how the porch light catches in his hair and whether his eyes really are that blue or if it’s just the lighting.
“You could bring her back later,” he offers, breaking the spell between us. “Or in the morning, as long as she’s not bothering you?”
“She’s not,” I assure him. “I could use the company, actually.”
The words slip out, more honest than I intended. I’ve been alone for so long that even a goat’s presence feels like a comfort.
Something shifts in Liam’s expression, a softening around his eyes, like he understands my truer meaning. “Alright then. Just don’t let her eat anything important.”
“Like my purple friend?” The words are out before my brain can stop them, and I immediately want to crawl under a rock and die.
Did I just make a joke about my sex toy? To my boss? Who retrieved said sex toy from a goat’s mouth?
My face feels like it’s been set on fire.
Again.
Liam’s eyes widen, and in the dim light, I swear I see color rise to his cheeks. Then, unexpectedly, he laughs, a deep, rich sound. It does something weird to my chest—like warmth spreading outward from my heart.
“Exactly,” he says, a half-smile still on his face.
I laugh too.
When was the last time I joked about anything, let alone something so mortifying?
“I’ll come get her in the morning,” Liam says, stepping back. “Unless she causes trouble.”
“I’ll text if she stages a coup.”
That half-smile appears again. “Good night, Emma.”
“Good night, Liam.”
I watch as he walks away and turns toward his own cottage.
Inside, Maple makes herself at home, thoroughly investigating every corner of my small living space.
“Just don’t eat anything,” I warn her, closing and locking the door.
She bleats in what I choose to interpret as agreement, then hops onto the sofa and curls up as if she belongs there.
I shake my head, bemused by this strange turn of events. A farm goat as my overnight guest was not on my “to-do” list for today.
I go through my nightly routine: another check of the locks and closing the curtains. When I emerge from the bathroom in my sleep clothes, Maple is still on the sofa, watching me with those strange rectangular pupils.
“I’m going to bed,” I tell her. “You’re welcome to stay there or join me, but I draw the line at hogging the blankets.”
I settle into bed, pulling the heavy quilt up to my chin. Just as I’m drifting off, I feel a weight on the bed, then the sound of Maple circling before settling at my feet with a contented sigh.
“Goodnight, Troublemaker,” I murmur, oddly comforted by her presence.
For the first time in months, I fall asleep without checking the locks a third time.