Chapter 2 #2
Ever since Macy moved in with Ryder a few weeks ago, she’s been hard to reach.
If she’s not working, she’s with my best friend.
But until I can figure out where Birdie escaped from and if she should go back, I’m hoping the alpaca can stay at Stone Ranch.
Macy will be honest with me about whether they can accommodate her stay, unlike Paps who says yes to every misfit who needs a place to go.
The Stone brothers and my sister are working hard to turn the ranch in an official nonprofit animal rescue, but until that’s all settled, they’re limited on the help they can realistically offer to additional animals.
“Hey, Wyatt,” Macy answers brightly. “What’s up?”
“You at the ranch today?” A few weeks ago, my sister was offered a position at the local veterinarian clinic, which is one of the reasons she so readily agreed to move back to Montana despite her plans in Colorado.
That, and she fell in love with my best friend.
Macy also volunteers her free time at the ranch, helping Paps—Ryder’s grandfather—with the collection of animals he keeps, so it’s a toss up where she is at any given moment.
“I am. Are you swinging by?”
“And bringing a guest if that’s okay.”
“If you have another screaming goat, you can just keep it,” Ryder chimes in, revealing that I’m on speaker phone.
“Hey, you love Gertie,” Macy insists.
“I found her on the roof of our house yesterday,” Ryder says to me. “I almost fell off the ladder trying to get her down.”
I can’t help but laugh as the playful banter continues. Birdie hums from inside the truck, hanging her head out the open window. She’s staring longingly at the house. Whether it’s because she misses her home or because she’s hoping Everleigh will be joining us is anyone’s guess.
“I have an alpaca.”
“An alpaca? Did you find Birdie?” Macy asks, the banter with Ryder coming to an instant halt.
“Yes. Wait—how do you know about Birdie?” Macy was away from Emerald Creek for years until just recently. I doubt she’s ever met the alpaca.
“Paps made a big fuss at breakfast this morning. He’s been worried sick about her since he heard she was on the loose. Where did you find her?”
“In Everleigh’s garage.”
“Walter Smalley’s old house,” Ryder adds.
“Ah, that makes sense,” Macy agrees. “Bring her to the ranch. I’ll let Paps know you’re coming.”
“Be there in fifteen.”
“Oh hey, Wyatt?” Macy asks.
“Yeah?”
“Are you still at Everleigh’s?”
“Yep.”
“Can you bring her with you? I need to ask her a favor, and I’d rather do it in person.”
My pulse quickens at the thought of seeing her in those skimpy clothes once more, making me wish I’d lied and said I was already on my way. A man can only endure so much this early in the day.
“She’s busy unpacking,” I say, hoping to be let off the hook.
“If she told you that, she’s lying,” Macy insists. “She’ll put unpacking off as long as she can. Trust me, I know my bestie. Will you grab her please? It’s important.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” I say, scrubbing a hand through my hair.
“Tell her Gina baked homemade cinnamon rolls,” Macy says.
“What does that have—”
A horrific scream echoes through the phone, and I tense. It doesn’t matter how many times I hear that mischievous little goat let out a blood curdling scream. It’s impossible not to stiffen at the sound. The cute little demon could beat out any human in a horror movie screamer audition.
“How did she get in the kitchen?” Ryder says, his tone exasperated.
“Bring Everleigh.” With that final insistence, the call ends. Guess the request is not up for negotiation.
I look back at Birdie. “Can I trust you not to get into any trouble for two minutes?”
Birdie tilts her head, the unicorn hat sliding a bit off kilter. It’s a miracle it survived her escape. I can’t imagine how many miles she’s traveled to get back to Emerald Creek. I adjust her hat before tossing a handful of pellets through the window and jog back to the open garage.
I steel myself, praying Everleigh’s dressed. Just as I lift my hand to knock, I hear shouting.
“I hate you! I didn’t want cinnamon rolls anyway.”
An instant surge of jealousy shoots through me. Has there been someone here this whole time with her? Is that why she’s still in her pajamas? But no, that couldn’t be it, could it? No one out of the ordinary was here last night helping her move in. No one she would invite to spend the night.
Knock it off, jackass. Who she invites to sleep over is none of your fucking business.
I rap my knuckles loudly against the door and call out her name.
The door flies open seconds later, revealing that getting dressed for the day did not rank high on the list. I swallow thickly and clear my throat, forcing my eyes to stay above her chin. “Everything okay in there?”
“What? Oh, yeah. It’s fine.”
“Do you...have company?”
“Company?” She stares at me, confusion lingering in that baby blue gaze.
“You were yelling at someone.”
“Oh, that.” She shakes her head, tucking hair behind her ear, exposing her very kissable neck that blushes a slight shade of pink. “Fighting with a tube of cinnamon rolls. You know how it goes.”
Afraid she’ll notice my instant relief, I quickly toss out, “Speaking of cinnamon rolls, Gina Stone made a fresh batch.”
“Is that where you’re taking Birdie? Wait, did she already escape—” Everleigh leans forward, dropping a hand with a spoon clenched in it against my shoulder to look around me toward the patrol truck.
“She’s right where I left her,” I assure her, fighting like hell to hold my breath so I don’t inhale any more of that cherry blossom scent than I already have. It’ll haunt me the rest of the fucking day as it is. “Go get dressed, Ev.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re coming with me.”
“I have to unpack,” she insists.
“Macy’s orders.” I glance again at the spoon. “What kind of cinnamon rolls are you making.”
“The homemade kind,” she says, spinning on heel and retreating farther inside. I step into the narrow hallway and follow her. “From the can. Except this stupid tube won’t open.” She points toward the unwrapped cardboard tube on the counter. “Hence, the spoon.”
“I don’t follow.”
“You’re supposed to press the spoon against the seam if it doesn’t open,” she explains. “Have you never made anything from a can before?”
“The spoon thing is bullshit,” I say, moving around her, thankful to have something else besides her half-naked body to focus on. I wrap my hand around the bottom of the tube and lift it above the edge of the counter.
“What are you doing?”
“Teaching you something useful.” I whack the tube against the sharp edge of the counter, and it opens with a quiet pop.
“Son of a bitch,” Everleigh mumbles, moving closer to examine the results.
Her body brushes against mine, and I feel blood rushing south again. It takes every ounce of restraint I have and a few I don’t not to pull her against me. Not to thread my fingers through her wild blonde hair and kiss her until her knees give out.
“Now will you go put on some clothes so I can take you out in public?”
“Fine,” she says, placing the cinnamon rolls on a plate. Her ass pops as she bends slightly to stash the plate in the fridge, confirming my suspicion that those shorts are indeed panties.
Fuck me.
She looks back to me, a borderline flirty look in her eyes, and says, “You know, you’re sexy when you’re bossy.”