Chapter One #3
Delaney sagged against the counter, breathing hard. Her eyes were a weird mix of gratitude and homicidal anger. “If that’s ruined—”
“I’ll pay for it,” I said quickly, adjusting my grip as the goat squirmed.
That seemed to mollify her slightly. “You’re damn right you will.”
“Want him?” I offered, adjusting the kicking goat’s hooves of death away from my body.
She shook her head and scratched the demon animal behind its ears. “Maybe the shelter can take him? He’d wreck my store, and besides, where would I keep him?”
The goat relaxed instantly at her touch, going from feral menace to docile pet in seconds.
Traitor.
“I’ve got to get to the clinic,” I reminded her, trying not to notice how gentle her hands were or how the goat was now staring at her like she’d hung the moon.
Delaney rolled her eyes. “You’re a vet. I’m sure you have a place to keep him while you call Theo at the shelter.”
She wasn’t wrong. I could probably keep the goat in one of the large dog crates and rig something for a feeder. I could ask my assistant, Jane, to check our inventory to see if we had any hay.
Plop-plop-plop-plopplopplopplop!
“Ew. Did he just poop?” Cheryl made a gagging sound from behind the counter.
Delaney laughed—a real laugh, not the fake one she used when she was being polite—and I tried not to catalogue how it sounded. “Can you hand me a roll of paper towels and gloves?”
Cheryl nodded and headed to a closed door behind the counter, returning quickly with the requested items and handed them to her boss.
“Well, I guess I’ll head back.” I pointed toward my practice, immediately regretting how awkward that sounded. The only time I wasn’t tongue-tied around Delaney was when we argued.
“Yeah,” she answered, already moving around me to deal with the brown pellets on the floor. “Bye.”
Feeling dismissed, I turned and walked out of the shop. As I passed over the threshold, I had to fight the urge to turn back for one more glance at a woman I had no business staring at.
The goat squirmed in my arms the further we got from Delaney, craning his neck toward the shop.
“That’s on you, bud,” I told him. “She probably would’ve kept you if you hadn’t been such a jerk and trashed her store.”
The goat bleated and tried to nip at my sleeve. As I shifted him in my grasp, the wooden pole the macrame design hung from hit my shin.
Fuck, that hurt.
The price tag fluttered under the goat’s hooves, and I got a better look at it in the morning light.
$1,600.
Holy shit. The price was outrageous for something that didn’t serve a valuable purpose.
That was a spay-neuter surgery. That was three dentals.
That was—that was me being completely fucked because even if I paid her back, it didn’t take away from the fact that I’d ruined a piece of art she worked so hard on.
There might be times I didn’t get social cues or nuances, but right now, I understood Delaney’s rage on a whole other level.
I made a mental note to give Cheryl the money for it once Delaney stepped out for her lunch break. She often left between noon and one o’clock—not that I’d been tracking her schedule or anything. She’d either head to Plot Twist to visit with Adele or to the bakery to hang out with Penny.
The goat’s head settled in the crook of my arm as he gave out a tired bleat and closed his eyes.
I sighed. “Did causing mischief wear you out?”
He ignored me, already half asleep.
The furry beast really was cute. Except for his smell, which was somewhere between wet dog and fermented hay. Maybe I could give him a bath later, and if I was lucky, try to get some of the matted fur taken care of. He’d probably kick me in the face, but at least he’d be staying true to character.
I entered my clinic and silently reminded myself that the goat was going to the animal rescue in town if they had room.
I did not have time in my life to care for a goat.
I had a practice to run, a routine to maintain, and a complete inability to stop thinking about how Delaney’s lips parted when she stared at me.
Jane looked up from her computer screen at the check-in desk the second the door banged shut. Her hazel eyes crinkled at the edges as she smiled. She tucked back a piece of chestnut hair that had slipped from her low messy bun. “Well, what do we have here?”
With a heavy sigh, I explained what had happened in the street and inside Delaney’s shop, leaving out the parts where I’d held Delaney against me and contemplated making terrible life choices.
“If I put him in one of the overnight spaces with food and water, could you keep an eye on him? I have to finish hanging the sign outside.”
“Of course.” She was already standing, reaching for the goat. “You only have about fifteen minutes until your next appointment, though.”
“I only have one corner to secure, so I’ll be right back.”
The phone rang, and she gave me a quick nod before picking up and greeting the caller.
I scooted past her to get the goat settled, and hoped the afternoon would be a little less eventful than this morning.
I liked things to be orderly. And I liked my routine. Today threw that all out of whack, and already I felt the stress of it tightening the muscles in my neck.
Between my routine being obliterated, my knee throbbing, my hip aching, and my brain refusing to forget the exact pressure of Delaney’s body against mine, I had a sinking feeling this wasn’t just a bad morning.
I glanced at the goat, who stared back at me from inside the crate with a clear look of satisfaction on his face.
“You’re going to the shelter,” I told him firmly.
He bleated. It sounded like laughter, like he was mocking me and knew better than to take my threat seriously.
Yeah. I had a sneaking suspicion this was the beginning of something much worse.