Chapter 9
Everleigh
“Do you think Birdie thinks she’s a goat now?
” I ask, leaning against the railing of the goat pen.
For once, Gertie’s inside the enclosure instead of on a roof or on top of Pap’s golf cart.
The little goat seems quite fond of her new friend with the way she hops after her.
Or maybe Gertie just really wants to eat the alpaca’s blue hat.
“I think she misses her buddies,” Macy says with a sad sigh. “Alpacas are pack animals. They get lonely when separated, so I think she’s doing the best she can to make new friends.”
“But Jingle Bells seems suspicious of her,” I point out of the goat I’d guess is the leader of the group.
She keeps looking back at the alpaca as though she’s an alien who can’t be trusted.
Though I’m not fluent in goat, I’m fluent enough in body language to make an educated guess.
And I’d wager Jingle Bells doesn’t trust the unicorn hat.
“She’s suspicious of apple slices,” Macy says on a laugh. “She’s coming around, though. And as soon as she decides Birdie’s in the club, the other two will accept her. Until then, she has Gertie.”
“Does she freak out when the cute little demon lets out a blood curdling scream, goes stiff, and faints?”
Macy shakes her head. “She’s completely unfazed.”
“Huh. Maybe they were meant to be best friends.”
Though returning to Stone Ranch after the trip to Springdale was not part of the original plan, Wyatt was able to arrange a last-minute meeting with the Stone brothers.
He mentioned consulting with Weston, and it sounded urgent.
After some of the things Walter let slip during our visit, he wants the lawyer’s legal opinion on a few matters regarding Birdie and Walter.
Wyatt Knight, a man sworn to uphold the law, will do everything by the book or not at all.
If he knew where Birdie had come from, the badge would obligate him to return her there.
I admire how much time and energy he’s dedicated to Birdie’s wellbeing, but there might come a point where his hands are tied.
I, however, did not swear to uphold the law.
I opted out of the meeting, mostly so I can’t claim I was aware of any consequences should I have to act…unlawfully to reunite Birdie’s pack. After that visit, I’m motivated than ever to make that happen.
Wyatt offered to drop me off at home first, and I almost took him up on it.
If I had any sense, I’d put some distance between us long enough for things to things cool off.
I’m still not in my right mind about what happened this morning.
My body heats, both from embarrassment and desire—such a confusing fucking combination—at the memory of mauling the man post panic attack on my bedroom floor.
But more than that, I can’t seem to get passed how passionately he kissed me back. No hesitation. No mortification that I kissed him in the first place. He met my kiss with the enthusiasm of a man who’s waited a long time for the chance.
The way his calloused palms moved deliberately over my skin will forever be burned into my mind.
I’ve never felt so fucking desired in my life.
It didn’t matter that I’d found release shortly before he showed up.
I wanted him right then and there. Had it not been for the phone call interrupting us, I might have taken things too far. I suspect Wyatt would’ve let me, too.
A handsy kiss we can come back from. But sleeping together? Our friendship would never be the same after that.
Going home and pretending to be sick the rest of the week would be the best way to preserve our friendship.
But after visiting the sweetest old man I’ve ever met, I felt a desperate need to see Birdie again.
I needed one of her soft, furry hugs. That, and I was eager to show the photo Walter allowed me to borrow to Paps.
I figured if anyone would recognize the ranch in the background of that photo, it would be the man who spent decades traveling the area to tend to animals.
Unfortunately, the photo was too vague with not enough details for his recollection. He wasn’t sure if he recognized the barn in the background or not but promised to let me know if something came to him.
“What happens if we can’t find the rest of her pack?” I ask Macy.
Macy shrugs. “I wish I knew. Ryder would kill me if I suggested adding a couple of alpacas to the ranch now. Penelope and Karen would obviously be exceptions if we can find them, but I can’t see him readily agreeing to acquire alpacas Birdie doesn’t already know.
It’s a big expense the ranch can’t afford right now. ”
“Ryder wouldn’t kill you,” I say, rolling my eyes with exaggeration. “He loves you too much.”
“It’s just not great timing. The state approved us as an organization, but it’ll be months before the IRS decides whether we qualify for a nonprofit tax exemption.
Weston thought it best that we wait to take in donations until after that’s approved, otherwise those donations will be taxable. It’s a whole mess.”
“So what are you supposed to do in the meantime?”
“They’re applying for some financing to keep things afloat in the interim, but I don’t know the details.”
“I’ll foot the bill for Birdie and her crew.”
“You don’t have to do that, Ev. I’m sure we can figure something out.”
“I want to. It’ll keep you out of hot water with your boyfriend.
Plus, we both know I have the money.” Macy knows I’m referring to the trust fund my parents set up for me before they were both killed in a car accident when I was nine.
Though it wasn’t an enormous amount, it was more than enough to help me through important milestones.
Grandma Jean made sure I had what I needed growing up and only dipped into that fund when absolutely necessary.
The money helped put me through college.
It allowed me to buy my first car and, ultimately, Walter’s house.
Though it’s not a bottomless source of money, there’s more than enough remaining to care for some alpacas.
“Only if you’re sure,” Macy says.
“Worst case scenario, I could always just take them home with me.”
“To your house?”
“That’s where they lived until a couple of months ago. I even have an alpaca shed, remember?”
“So you’re staying in Emerald Creek for good then?” Macy raises an eyebrow.
Her suspicion is warranted. Sitting still has never been my strong suit. Just because I bought a house doesn’t mean I plan to live there indefinitely. I saw it as a smart investment. A property I could rent should the urge to return to my old life—or start a brand new one—strike me.
“It’s a worst-case scenario,” I say, evading the question as I push off the fence. “I think Gertie would miss her new bestie.”
“Ryder would happily let you take Gertie to live with you too,” Macy says on a laugh.
“He might say that, but deep down, I know he’s attached to the little demon. Plus, I’m not equipped to rescue goats who tend to hop onto roofs.”
I feel suddenly antsy, like a wild animal who’s been cornered.
Have I considered staying in my hometown long term?
Sure. But I’m not about to admit that to anyone.
Not until I know for sure. Which is just another reason I should steer clear of Wyatt Knight.
That man isn’t the casual sex type. He’s the type to make a commitment and see it through.
“Do you know how to take care of alpacas?”
“I could figure it out. But for your peace of mind, let’s hope Ryder’s receptive to alpacas that won’t take away from the ranch’s bottom line. Plus, imagine how great they’ll be for your future petting zoo.”
“If the other two are anything like Birdie, the kids would go wild.”
“Don’t write off us grown adults. Alpaca hugs are officially one of my new favorite things.” I catch myself starting to pace and shift focus. “Hey, want to grab a burger? I need to swing by the diner anyway.”
“Let me get my keys.”
No matter how many miles I venture away from Montana, Grandma Jean’s diner has always been my True North.
The place I come home to again and again.
There’s a little redheaded girl with braided pigtails coloring a picture in the same booth I used to spend hours doing homework in.
Seeing her there, I’m instantly pulled back to my childhood.
Growing up, Grandma Jean used to let me bus tables for spending money.
I probably ate my bodyweight in ice cream three times over on one of the black and white stools at the front counter.
And I’d never be able to count the number of conversations I had with customers from all over the country about the different framed stills from the iconic movie Twister.
Dad’s favorite movie.
It was his love of it—or more accurately his obsession—that inspired me to study meteorology.
I paired that with Mom’s passion for photography and eventually joined a storm chasing crew.
It was an exhilarating life, photographing and filming powerful storms. It was a life I thought my parents would both be proud of. Grandma Jean assured me I was right.
All felt right with the world, until Connie Wilson gave me a reality check that rattled me to the core.
The stranger may as well have reached into my chest cavity and squeezed my heart in an icy death grip with her long, bony fingers for the way she shackled my wrist that day and spat those words at me.
I was headed for The Cow’s Moo the night Wyatt pulled me over.
To this day, I’m still grateful for the burnt-out taillight that kept Grandma Jean from seeing me in that disastrous state.
Wyatt gave me a chance to regain my composure before I waltzed into the diner the next morning to inform Grandma Jean that I was moving back to Emerald Creek.
I owe Wyatt so much, not just for covering for me, but for being there for me time and time again.
Why did I have to go and mess that up by kissing him?
It was way more than a kiss, and you know it.
“I’m starving,” Macy says as we claim a couple of stools around the front counter. Normally, we’d commandeer a corner booth, but I want to show Grandma Jean that photo. She’s a lifelong resident of this town. If she doesn’t recognize the ranch in the background, she might know someone who will.
“Well isn’t this a pleasant surprise.” Grandma Jean’s expression brightens as she spots the two of us behind the counter and approaches. “Here for ice cream?”
“Believe it or not, we’re here for dinner,” Macy says.
“Ice cream after, then,” Grandma Jeans says with a wink as a redheaded woman I don’t recognize appears from the kitchen with a tray of plates.
“Who’s that?”
“Gemma,” Grandma Jean answers, as though that clears everything up. I don’t recognize her, but it’s possible the woman lives in another town.
“If you were hurting for help, the unpacking could’ve waited—”
“You’re just looking for an excuse to put that off,” Grandma Jean accuses. “And anyway, she’s only in town for a short while. Her car needs parts that no one has in stock, and the extra set of hands has been a great help.”
I glance at Gemma as she hands out plates and mixes a couple of the orders up. She apologizes profusely, but the women at the table don’t seem bothered by it as they switch their plates. Ester and Delma seem to know her.
“Is she—”
“We’re a little busy tonight as you can see, so what are we craving tonight, girls?”
I redirect my attention to the yellow menu board I’ve had memorized for years. Grandma Jean offers specials, but the menu has otherwise remained unchanged since Dad’s passing. All the meals are named after things from Dad’s favorite movie. My favorite is the Dorothy 2.0.
“Two bacon cheeseburgers meals with fries,” Grandma Jean says with a nod.
My gaze snags on one of the framed movie stills on the diner wall of Bill and Jo forced to take cover under a bridge.
Jo doesn’t realize she’s about to lose her yellow truck.
My heart squeezes. Dad really loved that truck.
Mom used to roll her eyes every time he’d find one in a newspaper ad and suggest they buy it—he always showed it to me first. Mom’s eye roll was always filled with love. So much love.
“You okay?” Macy asks, nudging me with her shoulder after we order.
“Yeah. Just feeling a little nostalgic.” I think it was seeing the little girl, coloring a picture in the corner booth that defined my childhood that tugged me back in time. I’d bet she’s Gemma’s daughter. They look so much alike. “Thinking about my parents.”
“You still miss them.”
“I’ll always miss them,” I admit, but the sadness that used to wreck me isn’t there anymore. I choose to remember them with fondness, and it keeps me grounded. Most days. “I was just thinking about how much they loved each other. It was a like a fairytale or something.”
“It was,” Macy agrees. “I would’ve given anything to have parents like yours. You know, ones who looked at each other like the other one hung the moon instead of who might kill who first.”
“Ryder looks at you like you created the entire galaxy,” I point out, feeling that familiar ache in my chest again.
One I refuse to pick apart. Considering I had a complete meltdown over a single photo on my Nikon, it’s obvious I’m still very fucking broken inside.
Until I’m ready to face and conquer my fears, it’d be reckless to open up my heart to anyone.
Wyatt would keep it safe.
“Hey Grandma Jean,” I call out to her, waving to get her attention as I shove away the uninvited thought about Wyatt. Seems to be a lot of those lately. “You got a minute?”
“You need something for the house?” she asks.
I pull the photo from my purse and hand it over. “I was hoping you might recognize which ranch that is in the background of this photo.”
“You found the alpacas,” she says quietly.
“Sort of.”
She adjusts her glasses, drawing the picture closer to her face She studies it for several long seconds before finally shaking her head. “I’m afraid I don’t. What do you plan to do when you figure out where they are?”
I fill Grandma Jean in about meeting Walter and the whole alpaca situation as Macy and I enjoy our burgers and fries.
“Now I get why Wyatt was in here asking after Walter,” Grandma Jean says. “I’m so relieved to hear he’s happy and well taken care of. Shady Pines used to be a pretty damn shady place.”
“I want to find Karen and Penelope,” I explain to her. “I have a feeling they’re not as well off as Walter is. Otherwise, why would Birdie have escaped? Wyatt says no one has reported her missing yet.”
“How do you not notice an alpaca in a blue unicorn hat is missing?” Macy chimes in.
“Can I keep this photo here?” Grandma Jean asks. “I can show it around. See if anyone recognizes this place?”
“I promised Walter I’d return it,” I say.
“I’ll keep it safe,” Grandma Jean promises. “And I’ll call you as soon as I hear anything.”