Barking Up the Wrong Tree - Juliette Poe

Barking Up the Wrong Tree A Sex and Sweet Tea Novel SAWYER BENNETT WRITING AS

Juliette Poe

All Rights Reserved. Copyright © 2017 by Juliette Poe EPUB Edition Published by Big Dog Books This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. No part of this book can be reproduced in any form or by electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without the express written permission of the author. The only exception is by a reviewer who may quote short excerpts in a review. ISBN: 978-1-940883-86-1 Find Juliette on the web! Website: juliettepoe.com Twitter: twitter.com/juliette_poe Facebook: facebook.com/AuthorJuliettePoe

Table of Contents Cover Title Page Copyright Page Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Herman – On my mom… Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Herman – On stinky goats… Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Herman – On the competition… Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Herman – On friskiness… Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21

Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Herman – On knowing my mom better than herself… Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Herman – The end of this story… Connect with Juliette About the Author

CHAPTER 1

Pap

T

HE DOOR TO Chesty’s opens, and I’m stunned to see my twin granddaughters walking in.

So stunned, I check my watch. Yup… only three on a Friday. Since they are both local business owners, they rarely take an afternoon off. It’s almost unheard of for them to be free at the same time. “Not that I’m complaining,” I say as they head my way, “but to what do I owe the pleasure?” The girls grin as they take the two stools to my immediate right. Sam-Pete is there, putting down two frothy mugs of beer that he started pouring the minute they walked in. Business is slow right now, but it will start picking up in a few hours. Larkin, the younger of the identicals by roughly two minutes, though seemingly more mature, gives a quick smile to Sam-Pete as Laken pulls a twenty-dollar bill out to hand to him. “Her drinks are on me this afternoon, as are Pap’s.” Sam-Pete nods and takes the money, turning to the register. “And take a few bucks for yourself,” Laken calls after him. At age thirty, the girls are nearly identical. Up until a few weeks ago, they had the same long hair parted on the same side, but then Larkin cut hers off. Past that, though, their faces and mannerisms are the same. Larkin’s a tiny bit heavier than Laken. But in my opinion, it’s so hard to tell that you can’t really use that as a go by. It’s the hairstyles that set them apart now. “Why are you buying drinks this afternoon?” I ask Laken, who’s sitting between Larkin and me. “Well,” Laken says after taking a long pull off her beer and setting it down. “You’re my pap and you always buy my drinks, so I’m just pre-empting you today. As for Larkin, I owe her since she helped me out in the clinic today.” “Why’s that?” “Because she doesn’t know how to hire competent staff,” Larkin says as she leans forward to look me in the eye. Laken rolls her eyes at her sister and then admits to me, “Jenks quit this morning.” “Jenks Peterson was working for you?” I ask in surprise. He’s a moron.

“I know, I know,” Laken says with frustration, then takes an even larger pull on her beer. “But I’m not a great office manager. I went to vet school to practice animal medicine, not to be an overlord.” Larkin snickers, but doesn’t say a word. While her sister owns the area’s only veterinary practice, Larkin is also an entrepreneur as she opened the town’s only bakery about five years ago. It’s done amazingly well, and Larkin is definitely more businessminded than her sister. “Well, as much as I appreciate the beer,” Larkin tells her sister, “I can’t keep coming to your rescue with my own business to run.” “I know,” Laken huffs out in exasperation. The door to Chesty’s flies open so forcefully the girls jump on their stools. We all turn to see who could be making such a statement, as most people tend to just politely push the door open in more of a sauntering fashion when entering this bar. The bright afternoon sun outside doesn’t reveal much other than the large figure of a man standing there, legs planted wide and one arm holding the door open as he looks around inside. “Can I help you?” I call out, because my gut instinct says he’s not here for a beer. The man steps inside and lets the tinted glass door swing shut behind him. Laken mutters an, “Oh, my,” as we take him in further. He’s a big boy. Tall as Colt at least and maybe twice as thick, and I don’t mean fat. I mean muscles that pull and stretch at his shirt and pants. Oddly, the man is dressed as if he just got off work in a bank. The shirt is a button down and looks expensively tailored, as do his pants. He’s wearing a tie that’s been pulled loose around his neck with the top two buttons of his shirt undone. His hair is wet, his face is drenched with sweat and there are large stains under his armpits and across his chest. His clothes are filthy, covered with the signature red clay that’s found in this area, along with grass stains. There’s a large streak of dirt on his forehead where he’s obviously tried to wipe sweat away using mud-covered hands. I note his shoes are almost completely covered with wet clay. “I’m looking for the owner of Whynot Veterinary,” he says in a rough voice, his gaze rolling only briefly over Laken and Larkin, searching the bar for someone who might fit the bill. “There’s a note on the door that said he’d be here.” Curious, I look to Laken. She’s staring at the man in appreciation of what I’m guessing is his handsomeness. I can’t exactly speak to that, but I’ve seen that look on her face before when she’s been around the menfolk. My granddaughter is a bit of a lady player so to speak. Still, she doesn’t speak up, but merely turns around to give him her back and starts drinking her beer.

Larkin nudges her sister in the ribs. Laken doesn’t respond. The man is irritated when he asks, “Do any of you speak the English language?” “I do,” I say genially. Easy question. Easy answer. “And where is the vet?” he grits out. I look again to Laken, but she doesn’t even glance at the man, so I give her up by nodding my head toward her. The guy walks through the bar, his footsteps so heavy I can feel the vibration through my stool. Nudging his way between Laken and Larkin—Larkin scooting her stool over to give him room—he leans forward to demand her attention. “Are you the vet?” “Depends,” she says without even looking up, her gaze instead pinned to a Pirates baseball game on the TV. “On what?” “What you need,” she says blandly. “Is there a reason you’re ignoring me?” he snaps. “I’m thinking you aren’t all that busy since you’re drinking on a Friday afternoon. I’d think you might want some business.” “I need an apology first,” she says, eyes still on the TV. “For what?” he asks, incensed. “First, for not even looking at me or my sister, Larkin, twice when you barged in here looking for a vet. You dismissed us right away. Second, because you referenced the ‘vet’ as a ‘he,’ it’s clear you don’t think women have the ability to be doctors or something, so I’m not sure I want to help you.” The man mutters a series of unintelligible curses, and then looks to me for assistance. I shrug my shoulders and turn my attention to the game. “Um… what seems to be the problem?” Larkin asks the guy. He turns to face her, the distress on his face evident. “My goats have gotten out of their fence,” he says quickly, and there’s no mistaking the underlying panic in his voice. “I can’t catch them, and they’re in the road. One almost got hit.” This gets Laken’s attention as she is not about to let an animal get hurt. She doesn’t bother looking at the guy, but her sharp words are for him alone. “You have no business owning goats if you don’t even know how to keep them contained, or in the chance they get loose, to catch them.”

“Save the lectures,” the man growls. “I just bought the damn farm. Unbeknownst to me, the foreman had quit. I just arrived in town to find this mess.” Laken jolts in surprise and turns to face the man. “What farm?” “Farrington,” he replies. “You bought it?” she asks, eyebrows drawn inward. “Yes, and now I have rampant goats,” he says heatedly. “Will you help me?” “Yes,” she says as she picks up her beer and drains it. When she sets the mug down, she stands up from her stool and hardens her gaze. “But it will cost you.” “I don’t care about the cost,” he grumbles as he turns for the door, calling over his shoulder. “Just help me get the damn animals in the fence.” Laken turns around and winks at me with an evil grin. “He’s not going to like the price.” I snicker and raise up my mug to toast her. “Happy goat hunting.”

CHAPTER 2

Laken

I

GET OUT of my truck and slam the door shut behind me.

With anger. I sneer at the shiny silver Porsche in front of me, even though I’m slightly amazed that hulk of a man can so gracefully unfold himself out of the sports car. He parked it just inside the gravel drive that leads up to the main house of Farrington Farms. There’s a fenced pasture on either side of the driveway, the goats grazing to the right. There are still several enclosed, and I’ll grudgingly admit the man had the sense to roll an empty barrel in front of the broken section in an attempt to contain the other animals. “There’s a damn slice right through the wire,” he mutters as we walk up to inspect it. I don’t see any of the goats that got out, and I’m thankful they’re not on the roadway. I bend over to peer at it, noting the overgrown but dead kudzu that had been recently cut back. I’m betting whoever did it took a chainsaw and went right through the woven wire without realizing it. Straightening up, I put my hand up to shield my eyes from the late day sun. I’d forgotten my sunglasses on my kitchen table this morning, but I’m always forgetting stuff. It’s just the way I am. And there… just past the north end of the pasture, I see three goats grazing on the other side of the fence. “Move your car out of the way,” I tell the man as I head toward my truck. “I’m going to drive up to the barn.” He doesn’t argue but jumps to action, gracefully folding himself back into his sports car. He carefully drives up the gravel drive, pulling in front of the sprawling, two-story farmhouse. It’s newer than our house at Mainer Farms and has been freshly painted white in the last few years by the look of it. I drive past the house, around the side, and another fifty yards to the big gray barn. As I park my truck, I look around and don’t see but the three errant goats. When I get out, I head into the barn, noting with distaste there’s not a lock on the door. While we are a sleepy farming community, I can’t imagine anyone not locking up valuable equipment and supplies. It takes me less than a minute to locate the feed, and I put a huge scoop into a metal pan. When I walk out of the barn, I’m met by the huge man, who’s watching me with wariness.

A single shake of the feed in the pan and all three goats’ heads pop up to look at me with interest while they continue to chew the mouthfuls of grass they’re dining on. I have to admit to a certain fondness for goats. Something about their bulging eyes with rectangular pupils that convey a sort of genuineness of heart, well… it gets me in the feel goods each time I’m around them. “Come on,” I call out, rattling the pan again. The goats start walking my way slowly, still chewing. I walk toward the north fence, continuously shaking the feed to entice them. It’s an easy enough capture because goats are always hungry and will go anywhere food is. I open the fence and walk in. They all follow me. I set the pan down, the goats dive in, and I stroll back out, latching it securely behind me. “I saw a coil of wire in the barn,” I say, pointing toward it. “You should be able to put a temporary fix to the fence until you can get someone out here to fix it.” “There’s still one missing,” he says in reply. “Another goat?” I ask to make sure. He nods. “Brown and black, and really, really fat. Blue eyes.” This means nothing to me. He’s describing the animal like I’d recognize it and say, “Oh… yes. That’s Tillie the goat. I know her well.” I roll my eyes at him. “Where did you see it last?” He pointed back down by the road, and I hope to hell it hasn’t been hit by a car and is laying in a ditch. “Let me get some rope for a leash,” I tell him as I walk back up to my truck. I hop in the back, my cowboy boots clunking on the metal. Inside my tool box bolted to the cab, I pull out a length of rope and hop back out again. “Get another pan of food out of the barn and meet me down there,” I instruct the man but I don’t look back at him. I’m still irritated he bought a farm and has no clue how to care for the animals. Admittedly, his foreman was nowhere to be found, but still… it’s careless at best, reckless at worst. Animals aren’t to be taken for granted. There’s really no excuse for him to have bought this place and not have ensured there was a good crew here to work it if he wasn’t. I also don’t want to look at the man because while he may be a farming idiot, he’s also totally gorgeous and pushes every one of my buttons. He’s big, and I like my guys that way. Easily as tall as Colt, who stands at six and a half feet, but way more muscular. I totally have a thing for muscles. He’s got dark hair, also a button pusher for me, but silver shoots through it and you can tell within a few years, none of the dark will be left. He’s not old, though, so I gather he’s going prematurely gray. He doesn’t look much older than I am at thirty. But best of all is his beard. It’s black and silver, full and soft looking.

Another weakness of mine. God… if he has tattoos under that business attire, I would totally throw all my indignation out the window and put my charms on him. Shaking my head to dispel those stupid thoughts, I stomp through the deep grass that borders the outside of the pasture fence. When I make it to the road, I hop the ditch that sits between the grass and the asphalt, then start walking west away from the farm entrance. My eyes are pinned to the small gulley the entire time, hoping I don’t see a dead goat lying there. It will slay me. It always does. As a veterinarian, I see my fair share of animal death. I euthanize animals that are old and in pain. And it kills me every single time. When I make it about a hundred yards down, I cross to the other side of the road and start walking toward the farm entrance. The man walks toward me, shaking a pan full of feed, and I can’t help but snicker as I hear him call out, “Here, little goat. Come here, nice little goat.” When I’m ten yards away from him, I’m totally surprised when the brown and black goat he described bursts out of a row of blackberry bushes on the other side of the ditch. I see why he called it fat, or rather, I should say “her.” It’s a female, and she’s pregnant. The goat rushes up to the man, and he puts the pan down on the ground for her to eat from. She snuffles at the feed hungrily, gulping it down and hardly bothering to chew. I deftly tie a loop in the rope and when she lifts her head to look gratefully at the man for feeding her, I slip it over her head. She’s docile and doesn’t buck against me, and I let her remain in place for a bit while she continues to eat some more. “Thank you for helping me,” the man says and his words startle me. I look over at him and practically groan as he pushes his dress shirtsleeves up his arms, revealing tattoos covering every bare inch of skin. Just great. “You’re welcome,” I mutter and look back at the goat. It’s safer. “Are you still pissed at me?” he asks. “Yup,” I say, refusing to meet his stare. “For what?” he asks, curiosity evident in his voice. “Because you were rude when you came in the bar looking for me,” I reply stiffly. “And you looked right over my sister and me… I’m assuming because you couldn’t accept there could be such a thing as a female veterinarian.”

He makes a scoffing sound deep in his throat, and I look up to find his eyes narrowed. And wow, are they great eyes. Deep brown, soft, and expressive. Right now, they are expressing that I’ve pissed him off. “I was in a panic because I was afraid the goats would get hurt,” he snaps. “Cut me some slack and I’m all for women’s lib. I don’t doubt your abilities.” I shrug and nod toward the pan. He gets the hint and picks it up, and because the goat is still hungry, she follows behind him, knocking her head into his butt every so often to try to get his attention. It causes him to walk faster, which causes the goat to walk faster because he has the food, which then causes me to hustle because I’m holding the goat’s lead. She continues to head butt him in well… his butt, and he finally breaks into a trot to get away from her. Whether she’s just really hungry or not, she now thinks it’s a game. She gives a little hop and kicks out her back feet, bleating at him. “Give me the pan,” I say, which causes him to stop in place and turn toward me. Unfortunately, the goat was in mid “head butt” and her prominent forehead slams right into his crotch. I wince as he groans and drops to his knees with his hands gently cradling his precious stones. The pan of feed falls to the ground, and the goat starts eating it all up. A string of curses leaves his mouth, which prompts me to ask, “Are you okay?” He glares at me and shakes his head. “Do I look okay?” “Not really,” I admit, nodding where his hands are covering his groin. “You should probably ice those.” “Thank you, Doctor,” he drawls condescendingly. “Make sure to bill me for your advice, too.” I can’t help it. I laugh, and I do it with gusto. Shaking my head, I tell him, “City boy… not sure you belong down here.” “What makes you think I’m a city boy?” he grunts back, managing to stand up from the ground. The grass stains on his knees make a welcome addition to all the red clay stains. “Fancy Porsche, no clue how to handle animals, and well… you just have a sort of snooty air about you,” I tell him truthfully. “I am not snooty,” he says… well, snootily. “If you say so, city boy,” I purr in response, tugging on the rope a little. The goat ignores me for a moment, but then starts to walk with me to the pasture fence. The man follows. When we reach the fence, I put the goat inside, retrieving my rope and securing the latch. “I’m going to get the wire and patch the fence. You can go ice your yarbles.”

“I can do the fence,” he snarls, and I just shrug placidly. “Fine by me,” I say as I turn to my truck. “But I expect you at my clinic at eight AM sharp tomorrow.” “What?” he asks in disbelief. “Why?” “I told you my help was going to cost you, and I’m down an employee. Well, my only employee, and I need an extra pair of hands for a few days until I can hire someone else.” “I can’t do that,” he scoffs, and I cock an eyebrow at him. See… snooty. He catches my expression and amends, “I’m leaving in two days. Have to fly to Chicago on Sunday night.” My gaze turns to the Porsche in front of the farmhouse. “You didn’t drive that thing down from Chicago?” I ask, but now that I think about it… it had a North Carolina plate on it. He shakes his head. “I rented it at the airport.” “You rented a Porsche to drive to a working farm?” I drawl. “Really?” “I like to drive nice cars,” he returns with a low growl. “So sue me.” I shrug again. “Like I said… eight tomorrow.” “I’ve got work to do,” he counters. “I know… at my clinic.” “I can’t,” he maintains. “Eight,” I reiterate. He utters a low curse and scrubs a hand through his sweaty silver-and-black hair. “Fine,” he mutters. “I’ll be there.” “Awesome.” I lift my chin at him. “I’m Laken, by the way. Laken Mancinkus, but you can call me Dr. Mancinkus.” “Not bloody likely,” he mutters under his breath, but then levels a forced smile. “I’m Jake. Jake McDaniel.”

CHAPTER 3

Jake

I

DRUM MY fingers on the steering wheel as I sit in front of Whynot Veterinary. It’s eight

ten, but Laken hasn’t arrived yet. My patience is threadbare, and I’m tired. Tired from the travel from Chicago, from hunting goats, and from dealing with a frustrating veterinarian who is equal parts beautiful as she is evil. Screw it. I’ve got better things to do. Just as I reach my hand out to turn the ignition, a knock on the passenger window startles me and I see Laken bent over to look in the window. She’s holding up two cups of coffee and has a wicked smile on her face. I glare at her in return, pull the key from the ignition, and get out of the car. “You’re late,” I tell her as I shut the door and pocket my keys. “My eight o’clock canceled and my next one isn’t until eight thirty, so I’m technically early,” she says as she rounds the front of the car. “And you couldn’t have told me that?” I take the cup of coffee she extends out toward me. She nods toward the coffee and says, “That’s black. If you want cream or sugar, well… tough. I don’t have any. And exactly how was I supposed to let you know? I don’t have your phone number.” I don’t respond because she’s being troublesome on purpose, which is evident by the devilish smile on her face. It takes her from beautiful to extraordinary. It should make me cranky but, honestly, it just makes me appreciative, so I give her a nod of thanks for the coffee and pop the top. After a quick sniff, I take a hesitant sip and find it’s not all that bad. Certainly not what the barista would be brewing in my favorite coffee shop in Chicago, but it will pass. I follow Laken to the front door of her clinic and wait as she unlocks the door. She efficiently turns on lights, the overhead fluorescents casting a harsh shine over the white interior and tile flooring. Her lobby is small with a four-foot counter that contains a computer, three folding chairs, and a set of shelves on one wall that carry a variety of dog and cat foods in bag and canned form. “What do you want me to do?” I ask as she walks around to the computer and taps at the keyboard. She doesn’t respond right away as she peruses the screen, but then she glances at me hopefully. “I don’t suppose you know how to express canine anal glands, do you?”

I fight the urge to recoil and try not to sound snooty, but I tell her quite firmly, “Doesn’t matter if I know how or not, I can assure you I’m not doing that.” “Why not?” she asks with her head tilted to the side. “You’ll be wearing gloves.” “Just no,” I reiterate. “I don’t get it,” she replies with a little snark in her voice as she stands straight. “You’re a big dude. Got muscles and tattoos. Granted, you drive a prissy car, but still… I didn’t take you to be so sensitive.” “Yeah, sensitive is the last thing I am. Just not sticking my finger up a dog’s butt.” Laken gives a sigh of resignation, then jerks her head toward a door that leads to the back. “Fine. I’ll just have you assist me on all the appointments and do some cleaning.” “Fine,” I reply, but then add on so I set expectations appropriately. “But I have to be out of here at three. I’m interviewing a new foreman for Farrington Farms.” “Oh, yeah. Who?” she asks as I follow her into a short hallway that appears to have an examination room on each side. She passes those and heads to a door at the end. “Jenks Peterson.” Laken lets out a bark of a laugh as she leads me through to a large square room that seems to serve many functions. There’s a wall lined with stacked cages. On the bottom are larger animals, and the top row holds smaller ones. I see dogs, cats, and if I’m not mistaken… an opossum that hisses at me as we walk by. There’s another wall of shelving filled with medical supplies and food. Another wall has a counter running the length of it with medical equipment I have no clue about on top, as well as a large microscope. At the back of the room is a surgical table with a large light suspended above it, some equipment on a rolling tray beside it, and another piece of free-standing equipment near it that I believe is an x-ray machine. “What’s wrong with Jenks Peterson?” I ask as I eye the opossum dubiously. “Well, if he wasn’t a no-good lazy bum, he’d be here right now expressing anal glands,” she says dryly. “He didn’t show up for work yesterday.” That’s not good. “His resume says he’s got farm experience,” I point out. “Yes,” she admits as she turns to face me. “He worked my family’s farm for a while. He’s a competent hand and filled in as foreman when my brother Colt had to take time off for a broken leg.” “But…” I prompt. “But he’s unreliable. As evidenced by the fact he didn’t show up to work yesterday.” “Maybe he’s just tired of sticking his finger up dog’s butts,” I suggest. “Maybe,” she says with a grin. “But I sure as hell wouldn’t hire someone who just quit a previous job with no notice.”

“I think I’ll still interview him and judge for myself,” I tell her blandly. “No skin off my back,” she returns pleasantly as she turns toward the counter with the medical equipment. “I’ve got to get some stuff set up before the first appointments roll in. You can start by feeding the animals.” I watch her for a moment, and yeah… I may even ogle her. She fills out a pair of faded jeans well. She’s got on a t-shirt that was navy blue at one point, but has been washed so many times the edges have frayed and it has turned a dark gray. Her dark hair is up in a ponytail, and she has little gold hoop earrings in her ears. Her cowboy boots make her legs look sleek and sexy. She’s an immensely beautiful woman in a very natural way, and this will be the highlight of my day… looking at her. Well, and not having to express anal glands. ♦ “YOU ARE OFFICIALLY off the clock,” Laken says as she walks into the back room, peeling off her white lab coat. She just handled a routine yearly examination of an old cat and didn’t need my help, so since I’d done everything else she’d asked me to, I was just crouched down in front of the opossum’s cage feeding it an apple. Turns out, it’s not so creepy after all. I stand up, brushing my hands on my jeans. “What time tomorrow?” She winks a gorgeous, hazel eye at me. “I’ll consider your debt paid in full. You actually did decent work today despite the fact I had to handle the glands.” It’s true. I was able to hang with the pretty Dr. Mancinkus. There wasn’t much handson with the animals other than feeding and walking those that were being boarded, but I did sit in on every patient she saw if only to watch and be an errand boy if she needed me. I also had to go get her lunch across the town square at the bar where I first met her yesterday. Got to speak to the owner some more, who told me to call him Pap. We spent five minutes trashing each other’s football teams since I’m originally from Baltimore and a Ravens fan. He’s a rival Steelers fan. Doesn’t usually make for great friendships, but the old man was actually all right once I got past being offended when he told me my team sucked. We talked some baseball—he’s a Pirates fan, and I’m a Cubbies fan since I’ve called Chicago home for the past nine years. He told me to come back by for a beer sometime, and I might take him up on that. “I thought you wanted two days’ work for my debt?” I ask Laken, just so I’m clear if she’s truly releasing me. “City boy, you gave me good work today, and seeing as how it wasn’t all that hard to solve your goat problem, I’m letting you off the hook.” I’ll have to admit, Laken’s southern accent took a little bit of time to get used to, but I do find it quite charming if I’m being honest with myself.

“Well, okay then,” I say with a smile as I reach into my pocket for my keys. “We’re even then.” “That we are,” she returns with a grin. “And listen… whoever you hire for the foreman, make sure they know that pregnant goat looks due to drop any minute now. Someone should be on hand, so I assume you’re giving your foreman quarters, right?” “Um… right,” I say with no certainty at all. I’m obviously new to this farming business. Laken arches an eyebrow. “You do know how to run that farm, right?” “I’m hoping that’s what the foreman does,” I tell her candidly. “I don’t plan on operating it myself.” “Then why did you buy it?” she asks with a cute little head tilt. “For a tax write-off.” “Excuse me?” “A tax write-off,” I say again. “I need deductions. Operating a farm at a loss is a great one.” I don’t bother to tell her that my mother recently retired in the Pinehurst area, and the farm also gave me a place to stay when I wanted to visit her, because that was only a secondary benefit. “So what?” she sputters with indignation. “You’re just going to run that farm into the ground? Let the animals go without treatment? House fall into disrepair? That’s ridiculous, particularly when Farrington Farms has been a major source of produce, goat cheese, and jobs in this area for decades. It’s… it’s… criminal.” Her last words were shouted at me. “Relax there, Doc,” I cajole with my hands raised, palms facing her. “I’m not running anything into the ground. I’m just going to operate it at a loss for the deduction. It’s two totally different things we’re talking about.” “Oh… well,” Laken mumbles as she starts to straighten up the equipment on the lab counter. “Whoever I hire, I’ll make sure they know about the goat being pregnant,” I assure her. “It will be well taken care of, I promise.” Her shoulders relax, and she looks over her shoulder at me. “A farm that size is a huge responsibility. I know seeing as how my family has one, too. Just don’t treat anything lightly.” “You saw what I went through trying to save those goats from getting hit by a car,” I remind her. “Yes, I did,” she replies. “But you needed help all the same. I hope you find someone fast.”

“Fair point,” I tell her and then stick out my hand. “It was nice meeting you, Laken Mancinkus.” She smiles at me and steps forward. Taking my hand, she gives it a firm shake. “Likewise, Jake McDaniel.” Giving her a return smile of thanks, I leave her veterinary clinic and immediately turn into employer mode. I need to make sure the man I’m interviewing knows how to deliver a baby goat. This was definitely not how I thought this visit would go, but I’m short on time to find the right help before I have to leave. I hope to God this Jenks Peterson knows what he’s doing.

CHAPTER 4

Laken

“W

HAT ARE YOU doing here?” Pap asks with a smile as I saunter into Chesty’s and take

the seat normally reserved for Trixie. I’ve closed shop for the day and want to hang out with my favorite grandpa. Well, he’s my only grandpa, but he’d be my favorite if he weren’t. “I feel sorry for you, old man,” I quip as I give a chin lift to Sam-Pete behind the bar to indicate I want a beer. “Now that your favorite granddaughter has abandoned you for love, I’ve decided to take her spot.” Pap snorts, picking up his draft that’s sitting in front of him to take a sip. It’s true… Trixie is his favorite grandchild. She was the first, and they always had the closest bond. I mean… Pap loves all five of us Mancinkus kids, but he always had a special sparkle in his eyes for Trixie. We don’t begrudge her that at all, as there’s plenty of love to go around in our family. We may be a wild bunch and bicker all the time, but we are deeply devoted to each other. Ever since Trixie hooked back up with her first true love, Ry Powers, her seat at the bar has been collecting cobwebs. Over the last month, the remaining four Mancinkus kids have all been taking turns to come hang out with Pap when Trixie can’t. He’s not stupid. He knows what we’re doing. Which is why I told him exactly why I was here when he asked. Sam-Pete sets my draft beer in front of me, and Pap pays him. I let him because I don’t feel like arguing. It’s been a long day, and I’ve got an early start tomorrow. While the vet clinic is closed, I promised Lowe and Mely I’d be at their house for an early morning delivery of 4x4s. Lowe’s going to build a sunroom on the back of the kitchen that overlooks Crabtree Creek that runs behind Mainer House. He’s off with Mely to New York for a long weekend to visit with her bestie Morri, so I volunteered to stay at their house to accept the shipment. “How’d your new employee work out today?” Pap asks, and I don’t even have to look at him to know he suppressed a cackle with that question. I’m sure he finds it hilarious I had Jake work off his bill to me. “He actually wasn’t all that bad,” I tell him before taking a long pull off my beer. “He refused to express anal glands, but it was a long shot at best I’d get him to agree to do it.” Pap chuckles, and I hear it clearly. The music won’t start cranking loud in here until the evening hours. I wait for his laughter to die down, but it doesn’t.

Finally, I turn to look at him. “What’s so funny?” “Just… you could have had so much fun torturing him today if you’d been thinking about it,” Pap says with another snicker. “Made him do all sorts of nasty stuff.” “Nah,” I say with a smile as I turn back to my beer. “He turned out to be a nice guy, even if he’s a little clueless when it comes to farming.” “He’s a Ravens fan,” Pap says, and my head whips his way. “What?” I ask with a sneer. I’m as diehard of a Steelers fan as Pap is, and we abhor the Ravens and those who cheer for them. Pap nods. “He was born and raised in Baltimore. But in fairness, he’s also a Bears fan now that he’s adopted Chicago as his hometown. Well, that was more palatable at least. “You got all of this when he came in to grab lunch today?” I ask curiously, knowing that as outgoing as Pap is, he’d have gotten as much scoop as possible. “That was about it,” Pap says. “The order was ready since you’d called it in. But I do know something else that he didn’t have to tell me.” “What’s that?” “He played professional football for the Bears,” Pap says slyly, and my eyebrows shoot up. “He did?” Pap nods confidently. “Recognized him. In fact, I would have recognized him from his college days at University of Southern California where he was one of the best linebackers in college football. He was a first-round draft pick for the Bears, and he played four years there.” I don’t doubt Pap in the slightest. The man may bleed black and gold for his beloved Pittsburgh teams, but he knows everything about all sports. If he’s not watching the news, he’s watching ESPN. He can talk everything from tennis to NASCAR to soccer, and about a million different sports that range in between. “Explains why he’s so big.” Big and muscley and gorgeous. “Ruptured an Achilles tendon, I seem to remember,” Pap says as he taps a finger to his chin. “An injury you can sometimes come back from, but he didn’t. Must have been pretty bad.” Very interesting. So Mr. McDaniel was a college football standout, an NFL linebacker, and now someone who made enough money that he needed major tax deductions. The whole football thing makes him infinitely more attractive, and I know that’s so totally shallow. But I don’t care, and for two reasons. I’ll most likely never see Jake McDaniel again. More importantly, I just don’t care if I’m a shallow ogler of men. It’s the way I am, and I love my carefree life of casual dating.

When there’s a good enough connection, I’m not above a very casual hookup, either. It’s the way I prefer it. “Speak of the devil,” Pap mutters, and I turn to him. He isn’t looking at me, though, rather at the door. When I glance over my shoulder, I’m surprised to see Jake walk in. His gaze sweeps the bar and comes to land on Pap and me. With a genial smile, he walks our way and I take a moment to do what I do best when there’s a good-looking man around. I check him out. He’s wearing a different pair of jeans. The ones at work today were faded, but these are dark denim. A black V-neck fits his bulging muscles like a second skin, along with a matching black leather belt and some fancy-looking black shoes that don’t belong on a farm or in Whynot. “Good evening, Pap… Laken,” he says as he sidles up to the bar on my right, looking over my head at Pap who sits to the left of me. “Jake,” Pap says genially. But I blurt out, “You played professional football?” Jake blinks in surprise before smiling down at me. “Yup. Four years with the Bears. How did you know that?” I thumb over my shoulder at Pap. “He recognized you.” “Are you impressed?” Jake asks with a waggle of his eyebrows, and then turns to Sam-Pete to order a beer before he gets an answer. When he looks back at me, I wrinkle my nose. “You’re a Ravens fan. Not much about you impresses me now that I know that.” Rather than be offended, Jake gives a bark of a laugh and I’m charmed by the twinkle of amusement in his eyes. No joke. Steelers and Ravens fans don’t generally get along, but he seems completely cool with it. “You’re cute when you’re all worked up about your football, but I’m not overly competitive these days,” Jake explains. “If the Ravens win, that’s awesome. If they don’t, I’m not going to lose any sleep over it. Once I left football behind, I left it behind.” “But how could you do that?” I ask curiously, because I thought all professional athletes had it in their DNA to play their sport until they were dragged off the field in a wheelchair or something. “Because I had other stuff I wanted to do in my life,” he says with a shrug. Sam-Pete brings Jake his beer, and he takes a moment to pay him. “I had a degree and a desire to go back to school for another one. Football was a big part of me, but it wasn’t my entire life.” “Were you sad when you had to give it up?”

“Yeah,” he admits with a smile. “It was an amazing part of my life. My team was like my extended family.” “So what exactly do you do now?” I ask, turning my back completely on Pap. He won’t take this as rude because A) Pap indulges all of his grandkids, and B) he’s never at a loss for companionship. Someone will meander up to him to discuss the farm report over a beer, or even a heated discussion about baseball. Jake slides an empty barstool over and sits down. He turns to face me, resting a foot on the rail along the bottom of the bar, and casually perches his arm on the top. “Manufacturing. Computer chips to be exact.” “I thought all of that was pretty much done in China now?” He appraises me for a minute before he says, “A gorgeous and smart lady who’s up on current world market trends. Interesting.” I smirk at him, trying to ignore the flutter low in my belly that he thinks I’m gorgeous. That’s the first indication he’s given of any interest outside of rounding up wayward goats. Not that it makes a difference… seeing how he’s leaving tomorrow. “China manufactures a great deal of component parts for the largest computer manufacturers in the world,” he says, “but that’s mostly for consumer products. My company deals in parts for the business side.” “Interesting,” I say with a sincere smile. Learn something new every day. But I’m curious about something else. “How did your interview with Jenks go?” “I hired him,” Jake says confidently. “He gave a great interview, had the necessary skills to keep the farm running, and actually had a legitimate reason why he didn’t show up to work for you on Friday.” This surprises the hell out of me so much that my shoulders jerk back defensively. “What could possibly be a good excuse?” “He said he gave his notice to you in writing two weeks ago,” Jake tells me, and my mind spins. There’s no way. I would have remembered that. I jerk again when he adds, “Said he put it on your desk with a stack of mail he picked up from the post office.” I groan as my head drops. I’m terrible about going through my mail. My business and personal bills are paid on auto draft, so I don’t have a pressing need to open the mail when it comes in. At least once a month, I’ll make myself do a general cleanup of my desk, but it really just means throwing most of it away. I’m guessing his notice is right on my desk where he said it is, in a big pile waiting to be reviewed. But still… “But why wouldn’t he have said something? Why not say on his last day, ‘It’s been great working with you, Dr. Mancinkus. Thanks for everything.’?”

Jake shrugs and picks up his beer. “Maybe because you never mentioned his resignation to him. He could have thought you were mad.” Ugh. That makes me feel bad now, and I don’t like feeling bad. I would much rather believe Jenks is an irresponsible jerk, because let’s face it… that’s his general reputation in town. He doesn’t ever last very long at a job, and when he’s unemployed, he lives with his mom over on Willow Tree Lane. I wasn’t his first job, and working for Jake won’t be his last. That’s just the way Jenks operates, but still… it appears he might have a slight bit of responsibility since he gave me notice. “Well… I’m glad then that you found someone,” I finally say, holding my beer out so he taps his against mine. “Cheers.” “Cheers,” he says and then takes a sip. When he sets it back down on the bar top, he leans toward me a bit. “So what’s your story, Laken Mancinkus? How did a beautiful and clearly talented veterinarian end up in this small town?” I give him a coy smile, pleased with his flirting, then broaden it to a grin. “I was born and raised here. Pap’s my grandfather.” Jake’s eyebrows shoot high in surprise. “He is?” Leaning to the left, Jake looks at Pap, who I can hear is talking to Billy Crump about a sale they have on pork shoulders at the grocery store. When his gaze comes back to me, I laugh. “Yes… he’s my grandfather, and my whole family lives in this town.” Jake’s brown eyes go warmer, and I can tell that means he respects the concept of a close family. He surmises, “So it was only natural for you to come back home to practice.” I give a slight shake of my head. “Actually… I was going to be a big-city vet and stay in Raleigh after I graduated from NC State’s vet school. I practiced there for two years before moving back home to open shop.” “Big-city life not for you?” he teases. I snort. “Something like that.” Actually, nothing like that, but he doesn’t need to know I wasn’t running from the city itself. Jake leans slightly again, glances at Pap, and then looks back at me. “I’m having a bit of a hard time flirting with you while you sit next to your grandfather. Want to go play some pool?” “You’re flirting with me?” I tease and bat my eyelashes. “I hadn’t caught that.” “I’ll have to up my game then,” he replies with a wink. I grab my beer and stand up from my stool. “Loser buys the drinks.” “You’re on,” he says as he pushes from his seat. “But I’m really good.” “Honey,” I say tartly over my shoulder as I saunter toward one of the three pool tables in Chesty’s. “I was practically birthed on one of these tables with a beer in my hand.

You’re going down.” ♦ Three hours later… JAKE AND I stumble out of Chesty’s, laughing our asses off. “I would have killed to see the look on your brother’s face when he bit into that donut,” Jake practically wheezes. I had been telling him about the prank war my brother, Lowe, engaged in with his wife’s best friend, Morri D, last month. Morri had Lowe’s favorite donuts filled with mayonnaise rather than the light vanilla creme that he goes crazy over. Lowe hates nothing in the world more than mayonnaise, so it was a really good trick. When the door closes, I take a step and actually wobble. The giggle I emit pretty much confirms I’m toasted. Not fall-down, stinkin’ drunk where I won’t remember tonight and will be puking my guts up in the morning. But the kind where I’ve got no inhibitions left and I’ll wake up with a bad headache. There’s a huge difference. “I sure hope you’re not driving,” Jake says as he steadies me by the elbow. I turn and point down to the end of the block where Mainer House faces us. “Staying at Lowe’s house tonight. He and Mely are out of town. And speaking of driving, you sure as hell can’t drive to Farrington Farms tonight. You’ve had as much to drink as I have.” “I’m bigger than you,” he says in a low voice as his free hand comes up to hold my other elbow. He steps in a little closer and looks down at me. “So I can handle a bit more.” And oh, wow. Big mountain of a man who practically blocks out the moonlight stepping in so close, I could probably kiss him by going to my tiptoes. So I do. I raise up and to my delight, his head bends down. I press my mouth to his and he accepts. We’d been flirting hard all night, pounding beers and playing pool. Pap went upstairs a few hours ago, and once he was gone, the flirting intensified even more. There’s no denying the attraction between us. Jake backs me into the brick wall beside the door to Chesty’s, his hands moving from my elbows to my face. His kiss is commanding, and there’s no mistaking the intention behind it. It makes my blood race and my toes curl. When he pulls away, he murmurs, “Going to invite me to stay the night with you?” I smile at him, curling my hands into his t-shirt. Giving a tiny tug, I say, “Why, yes. Yes, I am.”

“Good,” he rumbles low with appreciation before tilting his head to place his lips at my neck. “I accept your invitation.”

CHAPTER 5

Jake

“H

AVE YOU MADE a decision on buying the Sioux Falls plant?” Kelly asks me.

I glance up from the balance sheet I’d been reviewing to my chief operations officer, Kelly Marshburn. She’s in a chair opposite my desk, one long leg crossed over the other, swinging her foot casually. Except it’s not really a casual move. Kelly can’t sit still and always has to have some part of her body moving. I know this and a hundred other things about her because she’s my ex-wife. She’s also brilliant, beautiful, and, because we parted amicably, she still works by my side at MCD Ventures. “Outside of the build-out costs, it’s a no brainer,” I tell her. “The question is what will we do with the plant in Tuscaloosa?” My main manufacturing plant for computer motherboards is in Tuscaloosa, Alabama. Kelly brought a plant for sale in South Dakota to my attention, and it’s of interest to us because there are no corporate taxes in that state. We’d have a big expenditure of costs to build-out the plant to produce our product, but we’d make up for it within a decade because of the better tax benefits. “Break it apart and sell it,” she says with a shrug. “Or just keep a nominal operation there and run it at a loss for the deductions.” Damn taxes. Seems like all I do is maneuver around them, looking for any loophole that will help me save money. It’s why I bought Farrington Farms, although not the only reason. “Have Dan run some numbers on selling it versus running it for a loss,” I tell her as my gaze drops back down to the balance sheet. “Then give me your recommendation.” I’ll most likely rubber stamp it because when I said Kelly was brilliant, I mean like genius-level brilliant. She was one of my professors at Kellogg when I was getting my MBA, and yeah… I slept with my teacher. I was twenty-five, fresh off an injury ending my pro-football career, and wanting to enhance my undergraduate degree. I was one of those rarities in that I completed my degree before I entered the draft. Kelly was twentynine, and she was the sexiest professor I’d ever seen. I’d married her by the time she turned thirty. When Kelly and I decided to split, it was definitely amicable, but that didn’t mean we weren’t heartbroken it couldn’t work. But as my mom told me the day I signed the divorce

papers, “Marriage is a long game where you play by the same rules. But as people, we are always changing… evolving. You either grow together, or you grow apart.” It was the best advice she ever gave me, as it made me realize it was okay that Kelly and I didn’t work. We were married for ten years and the fall of our marriage rested on the fact I wanted to have kids, and Kelly did not. This wasn’t something we realized in just one day. Our marriage first started out based on a keen mutual attraction. That developed into a solid companionship, and then we went into business together. Kids weren’t something we really discussed, although it turns out I just assumed she’d want them one day, and she just assumed I did not. Still, I regret nothing. Kelly was my first real love, and I continue to love her in a brotherly way now. I’m so damn lucky that we have the ability to work side by side. “So how goes the farm life?” Kelly asks, and my head pops back up to look at her. She’s got a smirk on her face, because she thought it was adorable I bought a farm. This is the first time I’ve had a chance to talk to her since I got back to Chicago yesterday. “Well, my foreman quit before I even got there, the goats got out, and I ruined my clothes trying to run them down. I got the local vet to help me out, but she demanded I work off my bill in her clinic rather than take my money.” Kelly snickers, and I glare at her. “What did you do about your foreman problem?” she asks, getting back to business. She is a business woman at heart. “I hired someone else luckily,” I tell her. “Someone you trust?” she inquires. “Come on, Kell,” I tease her. “We hire people all the time. We don’t have time to do thorough psychological evaluations to determine if they’re trustworthy.” I then pick up the balance sheet to hand it across the desk to her. “Tell Dan this looks fine.” Standing from her chair, Kelly snags the balance sheet from my hand. “Want to grab dinner tonight?” “Yeah, sure,” I say and then, as an afterthought. “Where’s Doug?” Doug is the man she’s been dating since we divorced. He’s an entrepreneur himself, older than her by almost fifteen years and doesn’t have children on the agenda. I bet they’ll marry soon, probably something low key. I won’t be surprised if she comes into the office one day and just announces she did it. “He’s in New York,” she says, and it should sting a little over the wistful sound of her voice, but it doesn’t. I’m glad she’s happy. “Seven o’clock?” I ask her. “Sounds good. Meet you in the lobby.”

And with that, she’s gone. Back to her corner office on the opposite side of the building where she will be elbows deep into the grind for the rest of the day. We share the same work ethic. I turn to my laptop and start going through emails. I normally will have these puppies cleaned out by the time I go to sleep Sunday evenings, as I like having a fresh, empty email box on Monday morning. But I was exhausted by the time I got back yesterday. Or rather… Laken Mancinkus exhausted me. My lips curve up at the sweet and sexy memories of my night with her Saturday. It was an epic one-night stand, which isn’t my usual modus operandi. I’m all about having real companionship in my relationships, but there was something about Laken that made her absolutely irresistible to me. There was no second guessing myself when I propositioned her. Even when we woke up the next morning and the alcohol had dissipated, I had no regrets. None on her part either, and I know this because she was all laughs and joking about our hookup, which may have only been for one night, but it wasn’t only one time if you know what I mean. I thought it might be hard to tear myself away from Laken that morning, but she gave me no choice. She hopped out of bed remarking she had a ton of stuff to do that day, starting with receiving a delivery of lumber at the house. I had no choice but to follow her to the door when she told me I needed to get going. She gave me a quick, hard kiss on the mouth. Eyes all sparkling with playfulness, she patted me on my ass and said, “That was fun, Jake. Maybe we should do that again if you ever come back to town.” And then I was out on the porch and she was shutting the door to Mainer House, which I learned was actually an ancestral home for her, the name Mainer being her mom’s maiden name. I would be back to Whynot eventually, but not any time soon. Still… if the offer’s there. I shake my head and refocus myself on my email. I’ve got a multi-million-dollar business to run here. It takes me almost two hours to clean out and respond to everything in my inbox. I spend another thirty minutes with my secretary, going over the week’s agenda, and then it’s time for lunch. Except I don’t leave my desk for lunch because I have too much to do. I usually munch on a protein bar or my secretary will grab me a sandwich. Today it’s pastrami on rye, which is much better than a protein bar that tastes like cardboard and has the same texture. I browse my stock portfolio while I eat and respond to a few more emails. I’m not overly deep in thought so when my cell phone rings, I make a grab for it. Normally if I’m deep into work, I’ll ignore it knowing if it were ever my mother and it was an emergency, she would call the office to get ahold of me.

Looking at the screen, I don’t recognize the number but I do the area code. It’s from North Carolina. Tapping the connect button, I answer hesitantly, “Hello?” “It’s Laken.” My body immediately tightens at hearing her voice. I have no clue why she’s calling or how, as we did not exchange numbers after our one-night stand. Only a quick goodbye kiss. “What’s up?” I say casually, trying to sound as if her calling me out of the blue doesn’t have my heart racing. “You need to come back,” she says, and for a split second, I actually think she’s talking about me coming back to her. In fact, I almost say, “Whoa there, girl. That’s moving things a little fast, but we’ll see what we can do.” But then, I really let the tone of her voice infuse me and I can tell she’s not coming on to me. “What’s wrong?” “What’s wrong,” she says with irritation, and a slight pause for emphasis, “is that your foreman, Jenks Peterson,” and this is said with such derision, I actually jerk, “dropped off a very sick, pregnant goat to me and promptly gave me his resignation to pass on to you.” “He did what?” I practically yell as I come flying out of my chair. “You don’t need me to repeat it,” she snaps back. “But you have a dehydrated animal here because I’m thinking he didn’t water them over the weekend. I’ve got her on an IV for now. I have no clue what shape the others are in, but I’m heading out there now to check on them.” A string of curses flies out of my mouth, and Laken doesn’t interrupt me. But when I finish, she puts the knife in and turns it. “And for your information, I cleaned my desk off yesterday and went through every piece of mail there. Your boy, Jenks, never left me a letter of resignation, so that’s what you get for trusting someone like him.” I scrub a hand through my hair in frustration. “Look… any chance you can watch over the farm until I can get a new foreman hired? I figure—” “No,” she says adamantly. “That could take you days or weeks and I’ve got my own business to run. You need to come back. I’ll go out today to make sure everything’s okay, but if you aren’t back here by tomorrow, you’re in very close danger of being accused of animal neglect. And if you don’t know what that means, let me fill you in. It’s a criminal offense.” God, she’s pissed. And rightfully so. “I’ll be there,” I mutter. Before I can thank her for the help she is willing to give, she hangs up on me.

“Damn it.” I sigh, and then yell out through my open office door. “Bonnie… get in here.” Bonnie comes scrambling in, a notepad in her hand, ready to write down any instructions I might impart. “Schedule me on the next flight out of here to Raleigh. Cancel all my appointments this week or see if Kelly can handle any of them. And let Kelly know I can’t make dinner tonight. I’ll call her later.” Scribbling furiously, Bonnie nods. When she’s finished, she asks, “Anything else?” “Yes,” I say as an afterthought. “Put an ad in any paper within sixty miles of Whynot, North Carolina for a farm foreman. Minimum of five years of experience and impeccable references. Salary and benefits commensurate with experience.” “Yes, sir,” she says before spinning on her heel to leave. I grab my suit jacket from the back of my office door and head out. I have to get packed up for Whynot. God only knows how long I’ll be there, and I’m realizing that no tax break could be worth this trouble right now.

CHAPTER 6

Laken

I’

LL HAVE TO

give Jake credit. He made it to Whynot well before the sun set over Farrington Farms. He finds me at the barn checking on my patients. I’d heard the arrival of his car and the slamming of the door. His presence in the barn is noted due to his shadow falling across me from the late afternoon sun blazing through the doors. “She delivered?” he asks from behind me. “Not long after I called you this morning,” I tell him as I kneel beside the dam. “Two kids. One didn’t make it. The dam did great on the IV fluids and so I thought I’d bring them back to get settled in. No sense in an overnight hospital stay.” The air whistling through Jake’s teeth tells me all I need to know. He’s pissed, and I’m guessing at Jenks. The kid that did survive is a soft little white goat with a pink nose. It’s curled up in the fresh hay I’d put out, sleeping soundly. My hands work at the dam’s udders, feeling the density of the tissue, but it appears soft and pliant. Definitely not mastitis. I stand up and brush my hands on my jeans as I turn to face Jake. I take a moment to enjoy the hotness of him, but then give him the bad news. “Your mama goat isn’t producing milk,” I tell him. He frowns as his eyes cut to the goat and then back to me. “The kid needs to be bottle fed until we can get her mama producing again.” Jake nods, but I can see the frustration wash over his face. He’s starting to finally understand that farming is not only demanding work, but it’s also constant vigilance and you must have the ability to adapt. “Why isn’t she producing?” he asks. “I’ve ruled out an infection in her udders, and her teats feel fine. If I had to guess, the goats aren’t getting the right nutrition. The field is nothing but tall fescue. The does need to be on alfalfa or peanut hay and probably some extra grain rations. I’ve given her a shot of oxytocin to help her along, but you’ll have to make these dietary adjustments. It doesn’t appear you have any other pregnant does in the field from a cursory look, but I can’t tell for sure.” “What about the baby?” This time, his gaze goes to the kid snoozing in the hay, and while he looks nervous as hell, I don’t miss the slight curve up of lips that form a fond smile. He may know jack about farming but in that instant, I can tell he loves animals in general. I couldn’t tell that day he worked at the clinic because things were done with clinical efficiency, but that look right there… he’s enamored with the new kid.

“I drove over to the farm supply store in Milner and got you some powdered colostrum and milk replacer. Got you some bottles as well. The instructions are on the cans. The kid will need to be fed at least four times a day right now.” “Wait… I’m supposed to feed it?” Jake asks, and there’s no mistaking the panic in his voice. “Who else do you recommend?” I chide. “You’ve got no foreman, and I have no clue if you even have any other employees.” “I have no clue either,” he mutters. “I assumed Jenks was on top of that.” “Yeah, well… you were wrong about Jenks.” “Will the baby just eat when I give it the bottle?” he asks, quickly moving away from his stupidity in hiring choices. “It’s a female… a doeling,” I tell Jake with a head nod. “She’ll be hungry. Now, if you see her start to take milk from her mama, let her do that, but the dam might not produce for a while, and then she may be unwilling to nurse.” Jake lets out a slow breath. “Okay… I can do that.” “Easy as pie,” I say to bolster his confidence. “Now, I’ve got to get out of here as I have a ton of stuff I need to do myself.” “Where are you going?” he asks, again with panic in his voice. “I mean… what do I do about the other goats? And do I leave the mom and baby in the barn? What will the mom eat?” I let out a frustrated sigh. This man is clueless, and it’s not his fault. Still, I’m quite irritated he jumped into the farming business without giving it much thought. “Look… feed the dam some of those alfalfa pellets, make sure they have water, and leave her and the baby in the barn tonight. I just fed the kid about an hour ago, so feed her again before you go to sleep. The other goats are fine as they have shelters in the pasture, but we’re going to need to milk all your does tomorrow. I’ll come back tomorrow and give you some more guidance on what to do, but you need to start looking for someone right away who can help you run this place.” “Milk the does?” he asks as his eyebrows draw inward. “Yes. These are Nigerian Dwarf goats. They produce milk, which means they need to be milked. Twice a day, in fact.” Jake groans. “What have I gotten myself into?” And for the first time, I have pity for Jake. I think he jumped too quickly into this farming venture, relying on someone else to do the labor, and not doing his research on what it would take to run this operation. But I don’t think he did it in moronic fashion, nor in a neglectful one.

“I’ve already got ads going into the papers,” he tells me. “And thank you so much for helping me, Laken.” “Yeah… well, you showed me a good time the other night so you’ve got some redeeming qualities.” Jake cocks an eyebrow at me, his brown eyes darkening slightly. “Just a good time?” “It was passable,” I grouse. “You almost brought the ceiling down with your screams,” he returns with a wicked smile. “An exaggeration.” Jake snorts and takes a step toward the goats. He squats down, elbows to thighs, and watches the doeling as it sleeps. The dam walks up to Jake and nudges his shoulder with her head. I’m not sure what it says about me, but that right there is sexy. A city boy bulging with muscles, not knowing a darn thing about farming, which should turn me off, but looking at a little sleeping kid goat like it’s a puppy he’s been given for Christmas. Jake isn’t even perturbed by the dam bumping his shoulder, merely gives her a bump back. Maybe he’ll grow into these responsibilities, and the fact that he dropped everything he had going on in Chicago and came here because of these goats says something about him. And yup… it makes him sexier. Damn it. “Okay, I’m really out of here,” I blurt out as I turn toward the barn doors. “What do I owe you?” Jake calls, and I look over my shoulder at him. He stands up gracefully despite his height and formidable muscle mass. I wonder if he still works out? Ugh. Shaking my head, I blink to focus and tell him. “I’ll bill you for the birth and hospital care for the dam. Dealing with Jenks, though, is going to cost you extra. I’m thinking a very nice and expensive dinner.” Did I just say that? Jake’s smile turns knowing. A smirk of satisfaction, in fact. “It would be my pleasure to take you to dinner. Tonight? Seven?” “There’s way too much work to do here to indulge in a fancy dinner tonight,” I tell him, and enjoy myself immensely as the smirk slides from his face. “Maybe in a few days after you get this farm mess settled.” “Not sure I have a few days,” he says distractedly, then pulls out his phone from his back pocket. He thumbs through a few screens. “I have a board meeting on Friday that I’ll have to be back for.”

“Then I suggest,” I chastise with a pointed look at the goats, “you put your house—or rather, your barn—in order. This place is a mess if you haven’t figured that out yet.” “I’ve figured that out,” he mutters and shoves his phone back in his pocket. ♦ LATER THAT EVENING, I sit out on my back porch step and sip on a beer. I live about two miles outside of Whynot in a double-wide trailer. Except I think the fancier term is manufactured home. It’s a nice place, in my opinion, and the company called the exact floor plan I purchased “The Chadbourn”. That sounded very fancy. Because they threw in free brick underpinning so it actually looked like a house and not a trailer, I thought, What the hell? My days of living in a stylish condo with hardwood floors and custom drapes are over, and if I’m embracing country life, I might as well go all the way. Although my parents offered to let me put my home on part of the Mainer farmland when I came to Whynot to practice, I declined. It’s not that I didn’t want to be near them, because I love my family like I love air, but I didn’t want to be dependent on them. I offered to purchase a few acres, and my dad cursed at me for doing so. I diplomatically told him I wasn’t a charity case. He stormed out of the house, and my mom gave me an appraising look. One that clearly said I needed to let my past go. Because I’ve got a terrible temper and the famous stubborn genes that are known to run rampant in our family, I stormed out of the house, too. I found five acres for sale on the eastern side of town, which is ironically close to Farrington Farms. The Mainer farmland is on the western side, where the town of Whynot is like neutral territory. I guess I was thumbing my nose at my parents’ offer for help by choosing to live on the Farrington side. I made some calls today to try to figure out what the deal with Farrington Farms was and how a man like Jake McDaniel came to own it. The world of farming can be competitive. Sure, in a small community, we always help each other and no one’s call goes unanswered. But we’re all competing for the same market shares for what we’re selling. Bob Farrington’s farm isn’t as old and established as my family’s, but it is bigger. He ran into the same issues my parents did, though, with much of the agriculture for our country being imported at cheaper prices. Farrington and Mainer farms eventually just leased out their lands to bigger companies who could at least compete with the foreign market, scaling back the actual amount of land worked by the families. Bob scaled back way farther than my parents because his children all moved away, not wanting to follow in their dad’s footsteps. So he leased everything out, retaining just enough to run his small goat farm, which produced wonderful chevre and mozzarella cheeses as well as fresh goat’s milk for consumption. What I found out, with a few phone calls, is that Bob got a girlfriend. At seventy-nine, he got a young girlfriend who was more than thirty years his junior. She apparently likes to travel, go to wine tastings, and shop designer stores. The total he sold his farm to Jake for had a ridiculous amount of zeroes behind it.

I also heard through the gossip mill Bob intends to marry his new girlfriend and leave everything to her, a sort of way to thumb his nose at his kids who weren’t interested in farm life. Scratching on my storm door from within the house startles me out of my thoughts. I look over my shoulder to see Herman pawing at the clear, acrylic panel that I keep lowered in the summer months so the A/C doesn’t escape. In the cooler months, I’ll raise the panel as the screen beneath keeps the bugs out but lets fresh air in. Grinning, I push up from my seat on the steps and open the door. Herman comes barreling out, all ninety pounds of long, lanky legs and big floppy ears. He practically knocks me over as he flies down the porch steps and into the backyard where he flops on his back and rolls in the dewy grass. Lighting bugs are starting to flicker as the sun sinks, and I know within moments Herman will be chasing them around the yard. No clue what type of dog Herman is. I can see some shepherd in him, and possibly some mastiff. But he’s got longer hair that’s speckled black, brown and white. I adopted him a little over a year ago when Lowe brought in a stray, pregnant dog that someone had hit on the highway. He’d been following along, saw the car hit the dog and keep going. Lowe being Lowe stopped and scooped up the injured stray. She was malnourished, full of ticks, and her lower spine was fractured. She was also due to drop her pups. When he brought her to me, I just looked at him like, “What do you expect me to do?” Not that I was mad he brought her. I would have done the same. But I didn’t know how much effort he wanted me to put into it, but when he just stared back at me with soft, worried eyes, it was evident I had to try to at least save the pups if I could. Turns out, I could only save Herman and I had to euthanize the mama. I’m not proud, and I’ll admit I cried. I don’t cry every time I have to give peace to an animal because sometimes it’s a beautiful experience, especially those older pets that have given years of love and devotion. It gives me great reward to help them pass on to a better place. But the animals that are sick or injured… that’s hard, because I know how desperately they want to be relieved of their pain. Even though I’m doing what they want me to do, but can’t tell me except with their eyes, it still hurts. Herman became my very first dog. You’d think as a vet I’d have a multitude of animals, but I don’t. I just never felt I had the time. Or rather, it just wasn’t practical living in a city condo. But out here… in the country? It was time I had a dog of my own. It also signified I was here to stay. ♦

Herman

On my mom… THERE’S A LOT I love about my mom. She’s the first thing I remember and the only thing that matters. Sure… I like chasing fireflies, and well… my own tail for that matter. I get super excited by chasing squirrels, and once I caught one and then really didn’t know what to do with it. So I decided to bring it to Mom, but she didn’t look happy with me. I’m not all that great with the words that Mom makes, but “Drop it,” was something I recognized. I spit the squirrel out on the porch, and it took off running. I wanted to chase it again so bad, but Mom said another word I understood. “No.” I don’t like that word. But sitting here on the back porch while Mom drinks that stuff that smells funny and made me sneeze when she let me taste it once, her arm resting on my back and her fingers scratching lazily at my ears, I know I’ve got a good life. I’m not sure where I came from, but I’m pretty sure this is where I’m supposed to be. I’m also pretty sure my mom feels the same way about me.

CHAPTER 7

Jake

I

CAN DO this.

For the short term, at least. After Laken left yesterday, I thought about going to the town square and offering to sell the farm for one dollar to the first taker. But then I realized who I was. Jake McDaniel isn’t a quitter. Furthermore, he’s a competitor. I’d bought this damn farm to work it to my benefit, and I’ll damn well do it too. I stayed up last night for hours, researching Nigerian Dwarf goats. I read every article I could find on how to care for them, breed them, and milk them. I took copious notes and made a list of questions for Laken. Then this morning, I gamely stomped my way out to the barn to take care of the mama and baby goat. Or rather, the dam and the doeling to be technical. Making sure to keep my groin out of head butting reach of the hungry mom, I feed her some alfalfa pellets and fill her water bowl. While she’s was wolfing down her breakfast, I watch for a moment as the baby goat walks around me on wobbly legs, bleating in hunger. Not once does she try to nurse from her mom, so I mix the powdered formula and make a bottle. As if she can sense that I hold the key to filling her empty belly, the doeling starts to prance in excitement and falls over a few times due to what I assume is clumsiness. There’s no stopping the surge of fondness that swells within me as I watch her little antics. “Okay, come here, little thing,” I coo at the goat as I sit down against the wall. I grimace as I stretch my legs out, knowing that another pair of designer jean are about to be ruined. I can also tell my two-hundred-dollar running shoes aren’t going to stand up to farm life as the treads are already filled with goat poop and red clay dirt. The little goat scrambles right onto my lap, bleating hungrily. I wrap my arm around her and tip the bottle. She latches on like a pro, just like she did when I fed her last night. The best thing about feeding a baby goat is the way their little tail swishes back and forth so fast in ecstatic happiness, it looks like a hummingbird’s wings. “You’re a hungry little thing, aren’t you, Miss Goatikins?” I murmur, and the little tail swishes faster as she pushes at the bottle to suck the formula down faster. “Miss Goatikins?” Laken’s amused voice comes from the doorway, and I mutter a curse over the spike of adrenaline to find her standing there.

“You scared the crap out of me,” I grumble after shooting her a glare. And I’m also mortified she found me baby talking a goat. “Miss Goatikins?” she asks again, this time no mistaking the mocking of her tone as she saunters into the barn. She looks phenomenal in her faded but well-fitted jeans, scuffed boots, and a shortsleeved t-shirt. Her hair hangs in a low ponytail at the back of her neck, but the straw cowboy hat she’s got on takes the country girl sexy factor to a fifteen on a scale of one to ten. “Every goat needs a name,” I say in my defense, and then realize that the nipple slipped out of the doeling’s mouth. She starts to prance on my lap, a tiny little hoof catching me square in my crown jewels. The same curses I let loose when Miss Goatikin’s mom head butted me between the legs last week fly out of my mouth, and Laken does nothing but laugh. The doeling ignores my pain, grabbing onto the nipple again as I lean to the side slightly while I breathe through the ache. “I see you’ve gotten the feeding down pat,” Laken observes as she walks over to the dam just finishing up the last of the feed I gave her. And yeah… it’s hot to watch her kneel and perform her veterinary duties on the animal. Not in a perverted way, as she feels the udder and teats, but in the way that has always appealed to me as a woman exercises her brains and confidence. Laken totally knows her stuff. I saw that on Saturday when I helped her out, and I can see it now as she’s efficient yet gentle with the dam. I’m surprised when she grabs an area just above one of the teats between her thumb and forefinger. When she gives it a squeeze, a small jet of milk squirts out. “She’s producing,” I say with awe. I’ve never seen an animal actually milked before except on TV, and I’d always suspected it was much harder than it looks. Laken nods. “Did Miss Goatikins try to drink anything this morning?” “Wasn’t interested,” I say as my arm curls a little more around the doeling to position her to my hip. “Came straight to me.” Laken chuckles as she stands up. “She’s bonded with you.” I grin down at the cute little white goat. That’s sweet. “Here… let’s see if we can get her to eat from the dam,” Laken says, plucking the baby from my arms. A series of yearning bleats come from the kid as Laken carries her to her mama. She places her on the barn floor near the dam’s udders and gives the baby a gentle push. To my surprise, Miss Goatikins spins away from Laken and her mother and runs back to me.

But in fairness… I am holding the bottle she was just drinking from. Laken attempts three more times to get the baby to nurse from her mother, but she’s having none of it. Finally, she takes the bottle from me and walks across to the opposite wall. She sits down, holds the bottle out, and calls to the doeling with a soothingly soft voice. “Come here, baby. Come eat.” Miss Goatikin’s tail gives a few nervous twitches, but she doesn’t move toward Laken. In fact, she takes a few hesitant steps backward until she bumps into my legs. I’m amazed as I watch her stare hungrily at the bottle, issuing a few bleats but refusing to go to Laken. “Isn’t that sweet?” Laken says with a laugh. “You’re her mommy.” “What?” I say in astonishment, the humor dying fast. “I don’t think that doeling is going to feed from anyone but you,” Laken says with a chuckle as she stands up. She walks over and hands me the bottle. Miss Goatikins jumps directly into my lap. On auto pilot, I offer the goat the nipple but look up to Laken in a panic. “What’s going to happen when I have to leave in two days?” Laken shrugs. “We’ll have to keep trying to get her to eat from her mom, I guess. And hopefully, you’ll have hired someone who can do that.” Any last vestiges of humor, happiness, and downright giddiness over the cuteness of a baby goat fades as I realize I have got to find someone to manage these goats super-fast. While Laken is here to help me in the interim, I can’t depend on her for the long haul. It’s not fair to her as she has her own business. Speaking of which. “Did you not have any appointments today?” “I did but I canceled them.” “I wish you hadn’t done that,” I tell her as I somehow push to my feet, holding Miss Goatikins in one arm and the bottle in the opposite hand. She doesn’t miss a beat in her nursing, but that puts me face to face with Laken. Well… almost. She’s still several inches shorter than I am so I have to look down at her. “Tell me what I need to do today, and I’ll do it, then you can go back to work.” “It was only two appointments,” she says casually. “My practice isn’t exactly booming, which is typical for a small country vet.” “But you were busy last Saturday,” I point out. “My busiest day of the week,” she confirms. “That’s when I do mostly small domestic animals for those people who work during the week. Most of my weekday work is of an emergency nature and for large breed animals. And you, Mr. McDaniel, happen to be an emergency.”

I chuckle and look down at the goat in my arms for a moment, then back to Laken. “Well, I’ll pay you quite nicely for your time today and whatever you do to help me.” “Deal,” Laken says with a smile. “Let’s start by looking at your herd after you feed your baby.” “Not my baby,” I argue to no avail, as Laken just snorts and turns to leave the barn. ♦ “I GET NOW why you said there’d be no fancy dinner,” I groan as I lay back on the front porch of the farmhouse that came with the farm. It’s going on eight thirty, and Laken and I are side by side on the top step, drinking a beer. She’s worked beside me all day. We didn’t stop except to eat the sandwiches her mother brought to us around lunchtime. Catherine Mainer Mancinkus was just an older version of Laken in the looks department. She was also sweet, charming, and epitomized the term “southern gentility”. She kissed Laken on the cheek and assured her she’d look out for Laken’s dog, Herman, the rest of the day. This afternoon, Laken’s brother Colt showed up to introduce himself, and he helped me repair the fence that I had rigged rather poorly with wire last weekend. He was a genial guy but when he buckled down to work, we worked. And worked, and worked, and worked. I’m in shape. I work out. I run and lift weights. I’m a former professional athlete, and I know the meaning of hard work and sore muscles. But as I lay back on the porch with my beer resting on my belly and the belief that it’s probably just best to sleep right where I am, I realize there are different types of hard work. “You okay?” Laken asks as she shifts to look back at me. Her face is streaked with dirt, and the hair at her temples is damp with sweat. She didn’t slow down at all today, she’s a good hundred pounds lighter than me, and she’s asking if I’m okay? I try not to groan as I sit back up. I even give her a smile before I sip at my beer, but I see it in her eyes. She thinks it’s adorable that a full day of farm life has kicked my ass. I didn’t know what farm life meant, but I found out today when Laken gave me the Farming 101 course. First, she gave me a basic run down of goats and I was glad I’d done the research the night before as I was able to actually follow her. I learned about feeding, milking, and breeding. She pointed out that my entire herd of goats are does. For some reason, that surprised me. I stupidly asked, “Then how do they get pregnant?” After she was able to pick herself up off the ground from laughing so hard, she explained to me about stud services. I also learned about the enterprise of goat farming, such as selling off the milk and various cheeses I could make if I wanted, and I assured her that I did not.

“But Farrington’s goat cheese is famed in this area,” Laken said with disappointment. “You can’t just not make it.” So I grudgingly added ‘figure out if potential hire can make cheese’ to my list of qualifications for a foreman. The only other income the goats would produce were through the babies. They were usually weaned at eight weeks and sold off. Given the fact that my company grossed twenty-eight million last year, I wasn’t too worried about the business side of the goat operation. In fact, I was pretty sure that during the first year I owned the farm, I’d sell off all the animals to make things easier. After my educational course, Laken examined every goat. There were twelve does producing milk, but only the one dam that had recently given birth to Miss Goatikins. There were seven doelings that Laken estimated were about six-to-ten months old. It appears I own twenty goats. That along with almost five hundred acres of farmland that I lease out, and another fifty acres of land to be developed. Of course, I have significant plans for that portion, which is how I’m going to run my farm at a loss and get the tax break. After the examination, we corrected the goats’ diet by driving to the farm supply store and loading up on bermuda and alfalfa hay to supplement the pellet feed. She also grabbed a pair of goat hoof trimmers, and when we got back to the farm, she led each doe into the barn and trimmed their hoof walls down. She did this while mumbling what I think were curses, but she did it so low I couldn’t be sure. It was clear the goats had not been well taken care of, and I’m thinking once Bob Farrington left Whynot and sold his farm, he did so without caring at all about the animals he left behind or who was in charge of them before I could take over operations. I shift on the porch step, feeling pain slice up the muscles of my back, and I can’t help the groan this time. “Pretty sore, huh?” Laken asks with a knowing laugh. I give her a mock glare. “I think it was bending over the does to help hold them while you trimmed their feet.” Laken nodded. “They were in terrible shape. It took way longer than it should have.” “Felt like hours I was bent over,” I say with another slight groan as I shift onto my other butt cheek. “I bet a nice, deep massage would feel really great on your back,” she murmurs in a slightly husky tone, and I manage to actually sit a little straighter. Her eyes are sparkling with something I can’t quite put my finger on, so I ask her, “Why? You offering?” “Not really,” she says with a grin. “Just saying.”

“You rub my back, I’ll rub yours,” I offer as I scoot a little closer to her. Suddenly, I’ve forgotten how tired, hungry, and sore I am. To my surprise, Laken scoots toward me until our faces are just inches apart. Her hazel eyes are gorgeous up close, and I study the flecks of green, gold and brown within them before dropping my gaze to her lips. “As I recall,” I murmur, setting my beer bottle down on the porch and bringing that hand to the back of her neck. “We’re both pretty good at rubbing each other.” Laken lets out a tiny hum of agreement, and my eyes drag back up to hers. I find they’ve darkened to mostly gold and brown. “Jake?” Laken whispers, and I hear the question mark in her tone. “Yes, Laken?” I whisper back, bringing my mouth closer to hers. Just before our lips touch, I close my eyes. Her breath brushes my lips before her words do. “You stink. And so do I. Go get a shower… and maybe I’ll consider dinner with you tomorrow.” My eyes snap open and I groan with disappointment as Laken pushes off the porch step and bounds down the rest. She’s moving agilely while I feel a million years old from the hard work today. Still, I have enough energy to look at how nice her hind end looks in those jeans. She jauntily swings herself up into her truck and gives a few honks as she heads down the gravel drive to the road.

CHAPTER 8

Laken

M

Y CELL PHONE chimes, and I snatch it off the counter beside my lunch plate. It’s from

Jake again, and I can’t help but smile before I even read the first word. We’d been texting most of the day here and there as he had questions. While I had to treat a cow for constipation today, I can say our texts have been the highlight of my day. This isn’t a far reach for me, because if there’s one thing I enjoy it’s flirting. And the chase. And the catch. Well, and then the release. But putting our one-night stand aside, Jake hasn’t caught me yet, although I’m sure he wants to. I want him to as well. Is it natural for a goat to follow me around like a puppy? he writes.

My thumbs fly across my screen. Yeah… not overly natural. I think you make a wonderful goat mom, though. Smartass, is his immediate reply.

Grinning, I start to set my phone back down so I can finish my lunch. I need to get back to the clinic and exercise the animals I’m boarding because I still haven’t hired someone to replace Jenks, but chiming indicates more from Jake. Seriously… she tried to follow me into the house. This isn’t natural. I already said it wasn’t natural, I type back.

His reply is swift. How am I supposed to leave her? It’s going to be a problem, I admit. Just keep encouraging her to spend time with the dam. Got it, he writes back. And it only took me an hour to milk the dam. It’s not as easy as it looks on TV.

I snicker because it’s true. It’s difficult to get used to the way the tissue has to be manipulated to get the milk. I write back the only thing that really matters in this moment. Something that’s absolutely true. I’m really proud of you, Jake. And impressed. You might make a good farmer yet. He sends me a smiley face emoji. Not going to happen. But it’s been fun. I set my phone back down to concentrate on my turkey club. Central Cafe makes decent food all around, but I get the turkey club each day at lunch. I could make my own at home, I suppose, but that would require time, effort, and a trip to the grocery store.

My phone chimes again, and I look down at the text staring up at me with my sandwich halfway to my mouth. Dinner tonight. I can fit you in at seven after Miss Goatikin’s feeding, but I have to be back in time to put her down for the night.

I snort and shake my head. Dropping my sandwich, I type. See you at seven. But I’ll pick you up. I’m not riding in that ridiculous little car of yours.

♦ “SO THIS IS your idea of a fancy dinner?” Jake asks as I slurp down an oyster with just a dab of tabasco on it. “I don’t need fancy,” I say as I swipe at my mouth with my napkin. “Just good food.” “I’ll give that to you,” he says before shooting his own oyster back. “This is good food.” I’d taken Jake fifty miles east to Topsail Island, offering him either calabash-style seafood or an oyster house. He chose wisely, although I can put a hurtin’ on fried seafood as well. Jake takes a sip of his beer while I pick up another oyster from the tray. We’re sitting at a bar and there’s a server on the other side wearing thick rubber gloves who is shucking oysters for us as fast as we can eat them. “Let me see if I can get this straight,” Jake says as he turns on his stool slightly to me. I slurp my oyster down, and then take a break… reaching for my beer. “Your mom is from Whynot, a Mainer and a farmer. Your dad was a Marine and is from Pittsburgh. He retired and stayed down here. Pap came some years later, settled in, and opened Chesty’s.” “Yes,” I concur. I’d told him my entire family story on the drive here. “Five siblings total. Trixie’s the oldest and a lawyer. Lowe’s next and a handyman. He just recently got married in Vegas.” “Too true,” I agree. “Then there’s you and your twin Larkin, and finally Colt.” “That’s the brood,” I tell him. “Seems pretty small, huh?” Jake nods. He’d shared with me all about his family on the ride down, and he has eight other siblings—two boys and seven girls total. His father died several years ago, and his mother just retired to a golfing community in Pinehurst after having taught high school English for twenty-seven years. Actually, we both shared a lot on the drive, and continued talking nonstop through our meal. Most of it was about each other personally, prompted by specific questions the other asked. For example, Jake wanted to know what my favorite holiday was growing up. I admitted it was always Easter because I loved the frilly dresses Mama would dress us up

in for church. Jake laughed and said I was adorable. My reply shut him up fast. “He who is mama to a baby goat shouldn’t cast the first stone.” “I managed to hire someone today,” Jake says, and that jolts me out of my thoughts. “Guy by the name of Carlos Romero.” I nod in recognition. “He’s worked Mainer farms before. Really dependable. I seem to recall he had to go back to Texas a few months back because of a sick mother or something?” Jake nods. “She passed, and he came back to this area.” “Has he worked with goats before?” I ask. I know he’s desperate to get someone in, but I want him to make a wise choice where the animals are concerned. “He hasn’t,” Jake admits. Before I can even utter a word of concern, he says, “But… I made a deal with Eustace Roop.” My eyebrows shoot up as I realize… Jake is indeed a businessman and has done his homework. Eustace runs a small organic farm over near Milner, and she has a ton of goats. She even opens her place up to the public, allowing school field trips and private parties to be held there. “What was the deal?” I ask. “I’m going to give her five of my does. In return, she’s going to train Carlos,” he says smugly. “Really?” “Really,” he says with a smile. “I like Carlos. He has good references, is a hard worker, and most importantly, he’s no stranger to farming.” “Yes, but all you really have is goats,” I point out. “Isn’t the rest of your land leased?” “Most of it. But there’s fifty acres I want to develop.” I nod in understanding. “You mean you want to lose money on it so you get a tax break.” “Guilty as charged,” he says with an unrepentant grin. I can’t help but laugh because what do I care? As long as the animals are well provided for, that’s all that really matters. We eat more oysters, finish our beers, and talk the entire way back to Whynot. Jake wasn’t kidding… he had to get back to feed Miss Goatikins, who greets him at the barn door with such excitement that she keeps jumping up and kicking her little legs out. I swear, if that little doeling could have done it, she’d jump right into Jake’s arms. We chat while he feeds the baby goat. I have to turn away to hide a laugh as Jake lays a blanket over the baby after she curls up in her stack of hay he’d apparently freshened.

When he stands up, he gives me a mischievous grin. “I smell like baby goat now.” “I’m a vet,” I remind him. “I’ve smelled far worse.” “Stay the night with me, and I’ll take a shower first,” he says. Even though I knew this moment was coming, I’m still unprepared for the flutter of excitement that ripples through me. Yes, Jake and I made easy conversation all night, but there was nothing neighborly or friendly in our banter. The flirting got heavier and heavier. Innuendo became a little clearer. It was clear the offer was coming when I admitted to him on the drive back how much I liked his beard, and he said with such confidence that we both knew it was true, “You like it on your skin and for no other reason.” I was a goner then. “Okay,” I say, but it comes out all breathy. I don’t care, though. The air in my lungs seems compressed right now with the possibilities of what we’ll do once we are in bed together. As far as lovers go, Jake is stellar. Perhaps the best I’ve ever been with. Not that I’ve been with a lot, since I don’t let myself think about getting tied down. But out of the few who have been cool with accepting the casual nature of our dating, none have really compared to Jake. Before I know it, Jake’s hands are in my hair and he’s pulling me up to my tiptoes for a kiss. Man, is it good. Just like that first night, except I’m not drunk. I’ve been thinking about it and craving it all night. He’s leaving tomorrow evening to fly back to Chicago, so I’m definitely going to take advantage of his offer.

CHAPTER 9

Jake

L

AKEN STIRS IN my arms, and a smile comes unbidden to my mouth. I could get used to

waking up next to this warm and sexy woman. She lets out a groan and then a tiny yawn before pulling an arm out from underneath my grip so she can look at her watch. Groaning again, she turns her body. I loosen my arms just enough to let her do so bringing her front to mine. She pushes her face into my neck and mutters, “Why I agreed to de-worm Mrs. Gandry’s heifers at seven on a Thursday morning is beyond me.” I give her a squeeze and chuckle. “De-worm? Can I just say gross?” “Relax, city boy.” Laken breathes against my neck, and other parts of my body start to wake up. “It’s done by injections. She’s too squeamish to do it herself.” Rolling Laken to her back, I come on top of her but hold my weight suspended by my elbows pressing down into the mattress. I give her a smile before bending to brush my lips against her neck. Lifting minutely, I whisper, “You can be late, right?” I’m rewarded with a tiny whimper as my teeth scrape her collarbone, and that makes me smile wider. But then she’s pushing me off with another groan and sliding out of bed. “I really wish I could be late,” she says as she walks around the room, gathering her clothes. I tuck my hands behind my head and just enjoy the show. “But I’ve got to get home and take care of my dog first. And Mrs. Gandry is a stickler for punctuality, and well… while most farmers do a lot of the routine medical treatment of their animals, she doesn’t. She’s a pretty big customer of mine.” I give her a reassuring smile. “It’s all good, although I’m going to say I’m disappointed.” “You should be.” She grins at me as she shimmies into her jeans. “I totally rock your world in bed.” Yes, she certainly does. “When are you coming back to Whynot?” she asks casually before pulling her blouse over her head. Last night she wore her typical jeans, but she paired it with a flowing white blouse with wide sleeves. It was an oddly romantic look on Laken, although she’s not a woman I’d peg as being that. “I’m not sure,” I tell her, which is the truth. Yesterday, it would have been a lie as I knew I wouldn’t be back for at least three months. Not until mid-November for my

mother’s birthday. I’d planned on staying at her house in Pinehurst for a few days to get some golfing in. Then I figured I’d swing by the farm and check on it. By then, I’d have Darby Culhane moved to Whynot and working with Carlos. He’d keep the main part of the farm running while she developed the new peach orchards I want to establish. “Well…” Laken says as she snags her sandals off the floor and walks to the edge of the bed. “Give me a call if you want when you come back. This has been fun.” She looks down at me, hair all tangled, and the knowledge she was just sleeping naked in my arms less than two minutes ago has me feeling off kilter. Now she’s ready to skip out of this room without a backward glance. My arm snakes out and wraps around the back of her thighs, and I pull her hard so she tumbles down on top of me. She does this with a yip and then a laugh as I once again flip her so she’s on bottom and I’m on top. Her hands come to rest on my shoulders as I peer down at her beautiful morning face. “I’ve never met a woman quite as casual as you about hookups,” I tell her honestly. “I can’t decide if it’s refreshing or totally dinging my self-esteem.” “Your self-esteem should feel quite confident.” She grins up at me, those dimples popping at the corners of her mouth. “Last night was wonderful. But really… what do you want me to do? Pine for you?” “It would certainly make my ego feel better if you did,” I grumble, but she hears the teasing in my voice. Still, I wouldn’t mind if she acted a little sad I was leaving. “Jake,” Laken says softly, almost in sympathy. But I hear the goodbye and the finality of it within her voice. “You’re a city boy. I’m a country girl. You live in Chicago, and I live in a town you’ll forget by tomorrow.” My words are rash and impulsive and I wish I could snatch them back the minute they leave my mouth. “What if I came back more often?” Laken’s eyebrows shoot sky high, and a slight bit of wariness creeps into her voice. “Why would you do that?” I grin down at her before planting a quick, hard kiss on her mouth. “Miss Goatikins. She’ll starve without me.” Laken snickers, but then the breath is knocked out of me when her arms curl around my neck. She pulls me back to her for a hard kiss. “Gonna miss this beard, city boy,” she murmurs before giving me one last kiss. A quiet one that says farewell. Once again, she slips out from underneath me. As she’s walking out the door, she reminds me that this wasn’t all fun and games. She turns and leans in, her hand on the doorjamb. “Oh, and when you get a minute, text me your email.” “Gonna email me dirty pictures or something?” I ask with a grin from the bed.

“No,” she says with a roll of her eyes. “I want to send you my bill for all my services. It will pay my mortgage and utilities this month.” I snag a pillow off the bed and whip it at her with a laugh. She ducks to the side, and it sails past her out the door. She shoots me a wink and then she’s gone. I have no doubt that when I do text her my email, the only thing I’ll get in response is a veterinary bill. I’ll pay every cent of it happily because Laken has pulled my butt out of the farming fires quite a bit lately. I think I’m going to miss her. ♦ AFTER LAKEN LEAVES, my day goes downhill fast. For two hours, we try to entice Miss Goatikins to take the bottle from Carlos. She’s having none of it, preferring to hide behind my legs as she peers around at him skeptically, or she crawls into my lap and pushes her head under my hand, trying to nudge me to get the bottle. I’m forced to give in when I hear the little doeling’s belly rumbling, and I take the bottle from Carlos with a well-timed swear word. Carlos chuckles and heads out of the barn. Eustace will be by soon to look over the goats and start imparting some advice. Scooping Miss Goatikins into my arms, I hold the bottle at the right angle and walk out of the barn. I consider texting Laken, but it smacks of desperation and I’m not ready to give in yet. What I find interesting, though, is that the dam is certainly not ready to give up on her baby. She follows me from the barn, showing no interest in joining the other does in the pasture. I’m not worried about her running away as she seems devoted to her doeling, even if it won’t feed from her. The sound of tires crunching on gravel catches my attention, and I turn to the driveway. A light blue pickup truck comes rumbling up, and I recognize it immediately as Colt Mancinkus’s truck. It was just here two days ago with a roll of no-climb fencing he’d brought to help me replace the sliced portion the herd had escaped from last week. I wait for the truck to come to a stop next to my rented Porsche, which has become quite dusty within a matter of just a few days of being parked out in front of a farmhouse. Laken was right… it’s a ridiculous car. If I come back, I’ll rent a truck. Or at least a Jeep. “What’s up?” I ask as Colt steps out of the truck. The tall man I’d met two days ago was affable and friendly. He’s the youngest Mancinkus at age twenty-seven, but he seems older than Laken in that he seems like the type of guy who bears a lot of responsibility on his shoulders. “You applied for the expansion grant with the state?” he demands angrily as he walks up to me with an aggressive set to his shoulders and his hands curled into fists.

I have no clue what he’s talking about, but I’m not afraid of the way he’s advancing on me. I’ve got a good thirty pounds on him if worst comes to worst, and while this is Laken’s brother, I really don’t know him all that well. He could be a nut job for all I know. Of course, I’d have to get Miss Goatikins to safety first, and that just makes me realize I’m being confronted by an angry dude while cuddling a baby goat. My life has become very weird lately. “Mind telling me why you’re coming on my property acting like an ass?” I ask, refusing to answer his question because I can’t. Again, I’m clueless. “I just got back from filing my petition at the North Carolina Department of Agriculture for an expansion grant they award every year. One given to each county. We’ve received the grant every year for the past five, and now I’m finding out that Farrington Farms is asking for consideration?” Now, that must be Darby’s doing. I gave her free rein to get going on the orchards. While she can’t be down here until she wraps up things back home, she’s been working on the back end. “That must be my operations manager,” I tell Colt in a neutral but polite voice. “She won’t be starting here officially for about a month. Maybe a little longer.” “What in the hell could you possibly want an expansion grant for?” Colt demands. “Laken said you only bought this farm for a tax write-off.” My voice remains neutral as I choose my words carefully. “Just because I intend to use this farm for tax write-offs doesn’t mean I’m going to neglect this place.” He just stares at me, apparently not accepting that as a good enough answer. “I intend to put some money in this venture, Colt,” I explain. “An investment, so to speak, that won’t pay off for some years to come.” “A peach orchard,” he snarls, and I’m stunned by the vehemence in his voice. “I read the grant request. And because it will take a few years for new trees to bear fruit, and a few more after that to produce enough to actually harvest for sale, you’re going to be losing quite a bit of money.” “Well, see,” I say in a slightly mocking tone because his anger is starting to wear thin on me. “That’s exactly how one gets a deduction.” “But you don’t need that grant to do it,” Colt grits out. “You’ve got plenty of money to invest. Why try to take a grant away from a farmer who needs it far more than you do?” I sigh and look down at Miss Goatikins. To my surprise, she’s finished her bottle and is just staring back at me with what I think might be hero worship. Looking back to Colt, I say, “Tell you what… I’ll get with my operations manager and see what her line of thinking is. I gave her carte blanche to do what she needed to get the orchards going.”

“Yeah, you do that,” Colt says menacingly. “And maybe think twice before you come into town without a damn clue as to what you’re doing, and trample all over decent, hardworking people who don’t have an extra twenty mil laying around to use at their whim.” I certainly don’t have that much money laying around, but a stab of guilt spears through me as I realize fully in this moment that Mainer Farms—Laken’s family farm— might actually be struggling. Otherwise, Colt wouldn’t be this angry. Laken had told me that he’s the only Mancinkus kid who took the farming to heart and will run the farm after his parents are gone. Hell, she said he pretty much does everything now. Colt spins on his boot heel and starts clomping his way back to his truck. “I didn’t have anything to do with it, Colt,” I call out to him in reminder. “Save your anger for something worthwhile.” He holds up his middle finger, which makes me snort in amusement. He’s a hot head for sure and I wonder what Laken would think about all this. But none of that matters. I’m leaving in a few hours to head to Chicago. No clue when or if I’ll be back. I’m sure Darby can work whatever this is out with Colt, and well… I guess it doesn’t really matter what Laken thinks of all this.

CHAPTER 10

Laken

P

UT MOM, DAD, Pap, all five of us Mancinkus kids, plus Ryland and Mely at the table

together, and it’s so noisy I can’t hear what anyone’s saying. I reach my hand under the table since Mom isn’t paying attention, and Herman nearly takes the tips of my fingers off as he snatches the piece of pot roast I offer him. With a startled yip, I pull my hand away. Mom shoots me a glare. I grin at her and then reach back under the table to pet Herman’s head. He’s a member of this family, too. Mely reaches down to a bag at her side and pulls it onto her lap. She’s laughing at something Pap says to her, and then announces, “We brought gifts from New York.” The chatter continues as Mely passes out little knickknacks. Larkin gets a snow globe of The Statue of Liberty, which is very thoughtful since she collects them. I don’t collect anything other than fur and slobber from a hard day’s work. While I may not know Mely all that well, it’s clear Lowe had some input into the presents they bought as she hands a small gift bag across the table to me. Reaching inside, I pull out a deep purple canvas dog collar. On the front is a metal plate with the name “Herman” etched on it. “Oh, man… that’s awesome,” I gush, then cut my eyes over the table to Mely. “Thank you so much. It’s perfect.” Herman’s current collar is frayed but still has miles on it, and while I’m not cheap, there’s no use in me buying him something at this point. Doesn’t mean I’m not going to gratefully accept this. Scooting my chair back, I only half pay attention to the chatter around me. Herman comes right out and pushes between my legs. He sniffs at the collar in my lap while I take his old one off. When I put the new one on, he gives a deep bark of what I think might actually be appreciation, and then starts wagging his tail so hard it thumps on the underside of the table. “I’ve got an announcement, too,” Ry says from my right. There’s only Trixie sitting between us. The laughter and talk die down, and once everyone’s looking at Ry, he stands from the table. He looks down at Trixie. Immediately, everyone knows what this is. That look in his eyes of such unconditional love and devotion is so transparent… so obvious to his intent… that I glance across the table at my mama to see she’s already crying tears of joy. Larkin sighs from my left, and Pap mutters, “About damned time.”

“Trixie,” Ry says as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a black velvet ring box. “We’ve waited long enough. Way too long. My life won’t be complete until you marry me.” He opens the box and holds it out for her to see the ring inside. I don’t bother looking at it, though. I merely lean forward so I can see Trixie’s face. Her eyes are shiny with tears, and she doesn’t bother looking at the ring either. She only has eyes for Ryland, and that’s the way it’s always been. Pushing from her chair, she throws her arms around his neck and kisses him hard. When she pulls back, she says, “Yes. Of course. Yes.” We all start clapping. Lowe gives a wolf whistle and Colt bangs his hands on the table, because boys are crass and have no manners. Larkin, Mely, Mama, and I all gather around Trixie as Ry slips the ring on her finger, and then we hug and ooh and aah over it. The boys are giving back slaps to Ry, and Daddy says something to the effect of, “Don’t forget how accurate I am with my pistol, boy.” Even Herman’s happy as he feeds on our joyful vibe, barking and spinning in circles. That is, until he realizes that everyone is up from the table and the food is unprotected. I catch him by his new collar just as his front paws go up on my chair so he can start with my plate of food. “Oh, no you don’t, silly boy,” I say as I haul him back. He strains for just a moment, gives a hacking cough as the collar digs into his windpipe, and then finally sits back down on his haunches. I grin at him as my cell phone starts vibrating in my back pocket. Pulling it out, I see it’s Carlos calling. I stopped by Farrington Farm on my way into work this morning, just to make sure he had things under control. Not that I didn’t trust Carlos, but Jake hadn’t made the best hiring decision in Jenks. I only wanted to make sure the goats were being cared for. And maybe a little because I might miss Jake. It’s absolutely crazy to be feeling this way. We hardly know each other, and let’s face it… when we were in bed together, we weren’t big on talk. Just action. So it’s totally crazy I’m a little bent out of shape that Jake didn’t even send me a short text to let me know he landed in Chicago last night. So crazy. I was very pleased to find Carlos working early when I stopped by this morning, busy laying out fresh alfalfa for the herd when I got there. He was worried, though, as he said Miss Goatikins refused to eat last night as well as that morning. I tried to feed the little doeling myself, but she wasn’t having any of it. Even her mama nudged her and tried to push her into action. The baby goat just kept bleating—or was it

crying?—from where she was curled up on the blanket Jake had given her. I was concerned enough that I did an examination, because the most obvious explanation was the baby was sick. But she checked out perfectly fine. Ultimately, despite how strange it sounded, I really thought Miss Goatikins had a broken heart over Jake leaving. While I didn’t share that exact commiseration, I understood the pull of such a man as I’d been thinking about him a lot since I left his bed yesterday morning. My advice to Carlos was to just keep trying. Miss Goatikins wasn’t going to starve if she went a day without formula, and my best educated guess was she’d be hungry enough by the evening to eat. I connect the call and say, “Hey, Carlos. What’s up?” “Dr. Mancinkus… It’s Miss Goatikins,” he says in his rolling Hispanic accent. “She still no eat.” He pronounced “still” like “steel” and his verb and adverbs were out of order, but I got the true message from the tone of his voice. He was worried. “Not anything?” I ask for clarification, although I don’t think Carlos is the type who is prone to hysterics. “No. Nothing,” he confirms. “What should I do?” I hold back a sigh, not really wanting to leave the comfort of my family home. It’s a rarity when we can all get together for an evening meal, and if there’s anything at all that made my decision to return to Whynot to practice veterinary medicine the absolute right decision, it’s the people in this room. Every single one of them I’d bleed for. Even Ryland, who wasted years away from my sister before he wised up, and Mely, who I barely know but who still impetuously married my brother all the same. They were my family now, too. “I’m on my way over there, Carlos. Let me see if I can get her to eat.” It was said without any real enthusiasm, because I knew what Carlos probably did, too. Miss Goatikins was not going to eat for anyone but Jake. ♦ IT’S EVEN MORE pathetic than when I was here this morning. Miss Goatikins is beyond bleating and crying. She’s curled on the blanket, her neck curved so her face tucks in near her belly. Her eyes are open and follow me with no real interest as I take a bottle from Carlos. Nothing I do can entice her. I try to pull her on my lap, but she wants none of me. She runs right back to the blanket and curls up. If I had a stethoscope with me, I wonder if I’d hear her heart breaking when I listened. This little goat has it bad for Jake.

Herman doesn’t have much experience with farm animals, but the few times he’s been around our cows at Mainer Farms, he’s acted like a damn fool. Barking and lunging at them in all his big, puppy glory. But with Miss Goatikins, he’s unusually quiet, preferring to lay quietly by my side as I sit on the floor and try to cajole the doeling into just taking a tiny sip from the bottle. After more than an hour of trying to tempt her, I give up and snap a quick picture of her with my phone. I then text it to Jake with a very short message. She’s refusing to eat. She’s been like this all day.

It’s almost seven on a Friday night in Chicago. I have no clue what Jake could possibly be doing, but I don’t expect him to answer right away. A high-powered executive like him is probably still working. If not, he’s probably having expensive pre-dinner drinks at some exorbitantly priced restaurant. To my surprise, not mere seconds after the outgoing swoosh of my text is heard, I get a chime with his return message. Are you serious? Yes. She hasn’t eaten since you left.

I expect a return text so I’m absolutely startled when my phone rings. Jake’s name on my screen causes my heart to race for some reason. “Hey,” I answer… somewhat stupidly. “Is this typical behavior?” he asks without returning a greeting. “I’ve never seen this,” I tell him candidly. “But I checked her over good, Jake. There’s nothing wrong that I can find on a simple examination. I mean… I could take her in for an x-ray of her stomach to see if something’s going on there, but I’d have to sedate her.” “Damn it,” he says, but it’s not in anger. I hear nothing but true worry in his voice, and that makes my tummy flutter a little. Big burly men and little furry animals… so sexy. I shake my head. “I can take her home with me. Keep trying to feed her. But if she doesn’t eat soon, she’s going to start getting weak. She’s only four days old and she needs the nutrition, so I’d probably have to put her on an IV. But that’s just a—” “I’ll be there tonight,” he cuts in over me. I glance down at my watch. It’s unlikely he’s going to be able to get packed, get to the airport, and catch a flight out tonight. But I don’t bother saying that to him, because I get the feeling that if Jake says he’ll do something, he’ll do it. ♦ TINY LITTLE HOOVES dance up and down on my chest, and I open my eyes to see Miss Goatikins standing on me. She’s staring across the room, her little feet stomping up and down and her tail swishing at a hundred miles an hour. I blink my eyes and see Jake walking in the front door of his farmhouse.

I’d taken the doeling inside as I was exhausted waiting for Jake. With the blanket in my lap, I’d fallen asleep on the couch holding her. I must have laid flat at some point, because now the little goat is doing some potential damage to my sternum. Picking her up, I roll slightly and set her down on the floor. Her feel scrabble on the worn hardwood floors as she flies across the living room to Jake. I sit up and rub my eyes, but there’s no containing the smile on my face as he bends down to pick her up. He already has a bottle in his hand, so he must have gone out to the barn first. He looks exhausted, but his gaze comes to mine and his smile is warm. I think it says he’s glad to see me as well as his goat. I pat the couch cushion beside me, and Jake comes over. Sitting down gently, he turns Miss Goatikins in his arms. Her mouth latches onto the bottle nipple, and she starts sucking hungrily. “I’d almost convinced myself there was something internally wrong with her, and she was sicker than I was giving her credit for,” I tell Jake quietly. “But damn… she really just missed you.” “Weird, huh?” he murmurs as he watches the baby goat drink. “It’s definitely unusual,” I admit. After a few moments of silence, I ask, “What are you going to do?” Jake shrugs slightly and rolls his head to look at me. “No clue. But seeing as how my condo won’t allow baby goats there, I’m going to have to figure something out.” Chuckling, I lean over and nudge his shoulder. “Do you realize in just the past week, you’ve had to fly to Whynot three times because of these goats?” “That had crossed my mind,” he says dryly. I give him a little pat on his thigh and then push off the couch. Turning to face him, I say, “Maybe fate is trying to tell you something.” “That I should be a goat farmer?” he asks with a smirk. “I don’t think so.” I laugh and turn for the door. “I’m exhausted. I’ll bill you for my time.” “Good night, Laken,” Jake calls after me, and I wear a tired but happy smile the entire way home. I’ll admit… Miss Goatikins isn’t the only one excited to see Jake back in town. ♦

Herman On stinky goats…

I WAS EXCITED for all of a minute when we got to the farm. The smells were spectacular. I recognized chicken poop and hay, but wasn’t overly familiar with a musky animal smell. Once my feet hit the dirt when I jumped out of Mom’s truck, I saw unusual animals standing on the other side of the fence. They made funny noises like they were trying to make words, but all they did was stutter. I started to bolt toward them, intent on barking and making my presence known, but Mom issued that one word to me, so I came to a sliding halt. “No.” My head hung, and I trotted back to my mom. She went to the barn and I followed behind her, taking in more new scents. This one was similarly musky but also powdery, too. There was a smaller version of those animals laying on a blanket, and it didn’t look all that healthy. I walked stealthily up to it while Mom talked to another man for a moment. I sniffed at its head, but it didn’t even move. I chuffed and then touched the tip of my tongue to its nose. It was warm… definitely alive… but still, it didn’t move. Giving a soft whine in the back of my throat, I turn to look at my mom and implore her with my eyes to do something to help the little beastie. I know for a fact it’s not sick, because I can smell sick on another animal. In fact, I can smell sick on a person, too. Pap hasn’t been smelling right these days, so I give him extra love when I’m around him. For over an hour, I lay beside Mom while she tries to get the little beastie she calls a goat to eat. I know it’s hungry because I can hear its tummy growling. Not as loud as mine when it’s close to supper time, but still quite gurgly for such a little thing. Finally, Mom takes the baby goat inside the farmhouse. I want to come inside, but she says that word again. “No.” I don’t understand because I’m allowed inside at the house Mom and I live in. But I know this isn’t our house because it smells old and musty, so maybe I’m just not allowed in there. No matter. I’m a dog, and I do my duty. I lay on the porch right in front of the door and I watch the front yard. Nothing will harm my mom and the little furry thing inside with her.

CHAPTER 11

Jake

I

SEE NO one in the small waiting room of Whynot Veterinary when I pull open the glass

door. Low murmurs come from the back, and since technically I worked here and haven’t exactly been fired, I stroll back with all the confidence in the world. I find Laken in the first exam room with a snarling little chihuahua and a nervouslooking, matronly woman who’s wringing her hands as Laken tries to examine the dog. Glancing up at me, Laken gives me a tiny wink before concentrating on the dog she’s trying to hold still. It’s squirming and baring its teeth at Laken. “See how swollen his cheek is,” the woman frets as Laken takes the dog’s head gently in her hands. This causes his body to start flopping around to get lose. Without even waiting for a request, I step into the room and hold the dog by the rear end so he stops squirming. “That’s my assistant, Jake,” Laken says to the woman. I bob my head in greeting, but quickly turn my attention to the little bundle of pissed-off energy Laken and I are trying to control. Laken carefully pushes at a swollen area on the upper jaw extending back to the joint. It’s obvious to the eye, but I’m guessing the poor dog’s owner couldn’t get close enough to poke and prod herself. “It’s cancer, isn’t it?” the woman wails. “Not sure,” Laken mutters. Even though the dog has its lips peeled back, eyes bugging all crazy like, she holds the top of his muzzle tightly before sticking out an index finger to run along his gum line on top. She frowns, makes a tiny sound of “huh” low in her throat, and then digs a little deeper. When she pulls her finger back, I see it’s nothing more than a chunk of Milk Bone that had gotten stuck back there. The dog immediately stops growling, and Laken and I both let him go. “Miss Belton,” Laken chastises. “You can’t give Jitters large treats like this. If he can’t chew them properly, they’ll get stuck… or worse, he’ll choke on it.” “But they were on sale at Wal-Mart,” the lady explains, and Laken nods in understanding. “That’s fine. But you need to break them into smaller pieces.”

“So there’s no cancer?” Miss Belton asks again, her arms scooping Jitters up. The little dog shakes like a leaf, and I now understand its name. “No cancer,” Laken says with a smile as she walks to the sink to wash her hands. “Praise Jesus,” Miss Belton says as she looks up to the ceiling—but I think she was looking heavenward—and starts rummaging in her purse with her free hand. “How much do I owe you?” “Nothing,” Laken says as she dries her hands. “It wasn’t that difficult to figure out.” “But your time is worth something,” Miss Belton insists. “Besides, you’re the only one in this entire county who has the guts to stick their finger in Jitters’ mouth. Let me pay you something.” “Biscuits,” Laken says, and my eyebrows shoot up at this odd request. “Half a dozen next time you make some. Have Leroy deliver them to me.” “Deal,” Miss Belton says before she scoots out of the exam room yelling “toodles” over her shoulder. “You just agreed to get paid in biscuits?” I ask in awe. Laken shrugs and tosses the towel she’d been drying her hands with in the garbage. “Paying debts in trade is practically an artform in the South.” “Really?” The concept is fascinating. “Well, not all businesses operate that way. Like Chesty’s and Larkin’s bakery, Sweet Cakes… those are retail/cash trades. You have to have money there. But me, Lowe, and Trixie… we deal in services. We often trade.” “But biscuits?” I press. “For pulling out a milk bone? It was a good deal. That will be my breakfast for a week, and I suck at baking. Now, say I’d neutered Jitters… then I’d require cash, credit, or maybe a year’s supply of biscuits.” “Amazing,” I say and step back as Laken pushes past me. “How’s MG this morning?” she asks as I follow her out to the lobby. She rounds the desk and sits in the chair so she can access the computer. “MG?” I ask, not following. “Miss Goatikins,” she clarifies. “Good nickname, and she’s eating fine,” I tell her as I sit my butt on the edge of the desk. “As long as I’m holding the bottle.” “Got to admit,” Laken muses while her eyes scan whatever she has on the computer screen. “It’s pretty funny.” “Yeah, not so much,” I say blandly. “That little goat has totally disrupted my life. Eustace came by and insisted I put MG in the pasture with the rest of the herd. Said it was

time for her start acting like a real goat and not a baby.” “Tough love, huh?” “She scares me a little,” I admit. “Not gonna lie.” “She’s a character, that’s for sure.” I nod. “Eustace said normally some goats can learn to nurse by watching the others.” “But there aren’t any other nursing kids,” Laken points out. “I know, but she felt maybe just being around the entire herd would help her feel more… goat-like, I guess.” Laken snickers, taps a few more keys on the keyboard, and then looks up at me. “I wonder why there was a pregnancy this late. Most are in the spring, and this was a midsummer birth.” “I actually know the answer to that,” I say as I puff my chest out a little, for the first time maybe even feel that owning a farm is going to be okay. “Turns out… the herd actually had a buck, but he had gotten out of the fence. We didn’t know it, but Carlos found him yesterday. I don’t think the prior foreman kept them apart and just let them breed whenever they wanted.” “Lucky buck,” Laken murmurs, and I can’t help but laugh. “Eustace is going to take him to her farm, and I can just use him to stud from there,” I tell her, again feeling accomplished by speaking all this goat lingo. “If I want to breed, that is.” “Thinking of shutting that down?” Laken asks. This time, her hands fall away from the keyboard and she turns to give me her full attention. “It’s not a big part of the farm. A handful of goats and Mr. Farrington enjoyed dabbling in some cheese making that he sold locally. I really don’t see the point.” “Makes sense,” Laken says, and then she surprises me when she says, “Colt told me about his run-in with you day before yesterday.” “He called it a run-in, huh?” I ask her caustically. “Well, he didn’t say the exact words, but I know my brother can be a hot head. He’s pissed you’re applying for that grant.” “Maybe he needs to learn that you don’t always get what you want in life,” I point out, for some reason feeling the need to defend Farrington Farm’s bid for the grant. “Maybe,” she says softly. She doesn’t say anymore, and this leaves me completely in the dark as to how Laken feels about this. Her brother was indeed pissed at me, and I’m thinking this grant is a huge deal. But until I can talk to Darby about it, I can’t decide what to do. Laken’s views are important to me, because if I’m going to be here for God knows how long, then I definitely want to keep her underneath me if she wants the same.

“What are you going to do?” Laken asks, leaning her elbows on the desk. “About the grant?” She shakes her head. “About MG. It takes eight weeks to wean a goat. Are you going to stay here that entire time?” “I’m going to try my damndest to teach MG how to eat from someone else,” I tell her. “But until that time, I’m just going to have to work out of the farmhouse. I might have to do some trips to Chicago and New York, but I’ll make them same-day ones. Hopefully we can make it work.” Laken appraises me for a moment. “You know, most people would have just had me euthanize MG. She’s not a pet but a working animal.” “I’m not most people,” I tell her, appalled that would even be a consideration. Living in the city and given my travel, it’s impractical for me to have an animal. Doesn’t mean I don’t love them, though, and clearly Miss Goatikins has already snaked her way inside my heart. “No, you aren’t most people,” Laken murmurs in agreement. “Can I kiss you?” I ask in an abrupt change of subject. For a moment, I can tell I’ve thrown her completely off, but then her lips curve into a slow, hot smile. She stands from the desk and leans over it toward me. “Why, Mr. McDaniel… I thought you’d never ask,” she says, cranking her southern accent extra thick and charming. This most definitely wasn’t what I came in for today, but I have to admit, this is way better than what I had planned out. While it’s true Laken and I have enjoyed a brief physical relationship, the fact I’m back for an extended period means this can continue. I need to know if she wants to continue it, since she doesn’t seem the type who has been back here pining for me each time I left. Laken curls a hand into the front of my polo shirt, grips it hard, and pulls me across the desk so my mouth meets hers right over the middle. Totally electrifying, it’s the type of kiss that, left unchecked, would lead us to locking the front door and taking this to the back room. But I have some level-headed sense about me, and I pull away from her. She purrs in appreciation when I rub my nose against hers. As I look down at her, she opens her eyes slowly with a smile on her face. “You are such a sweet kisser,” Laken says almost dreamily. “Not like sweet as candy, but sweet as in ‘the bomb’.” Laughing, I slip my hand around the back of her head, pull her to me for one more hard kiss, and then release her again. “So, I came to square up my bill with you,” I tell her all business like.

She blinks at me a moment and then mumbles, “Um… yeah. Let me pull up your account on the computer.” “I thought we could work it out in trade,” I say, and her eyes snap up to mine. “In trade?” “Well, you just asked Miss Belton for biscuits for your veterinary services,” I say casually. “Maybe you’d like… oh, say… a fancy dinner and a night out on the town?” “Are you asking me on a date or are you truly wanting to pay me that way?” Laken asks with a skeptical look. I roll my eyes at her. “I didn’t take you for dense, Laken. But I’m asking you out. I totally intend to pay you real money for everything you’ve done.” “When?” she asks. “Whenever you send me the bill like you said you would,” I tell her. Now she’s the one rolling her eyes at me. “No, doofus. When do you want to do dinner?” “Tonight?” “Pick me up at seven,” she says, reaching into the desk to pull out paper and pen. She scribbles something and hands it to me. “Here’s my address.” “You’ll have to give me an idea of what’s good around here,” I say as I tuck the paper in my back pocket. “Uh-uh,” Laken says with a shake of her head. “I want you to take me to Raleigh. To a really high-quality restaurant. You research it yourself and make the reservations. I want you to go all out.” “You’re directing our date?” I ask with a smirk. “I’m getting you started in the right direction.” Her smirk back to me is deeper. “Will I get laid tonight?” “If it’s a really excellent restaurant,” she says haughtily before turning away from me. “Now get out of here… I’ve got more work to do today.” I stand up from the desk. “Send me your real bill, too,” I call after her. She waves a hand over her shoulder as she disappears down the hall. I whistle a jaunty tune as I leave her clinic, happy with the knowledge I’ll be spending the evening with Laken.

CHAPTER 12

Laken

“Y

OU’RE KILLING ME with that dress,” Jake murmurs. His hand goes to my lower back as

we walk through the restaurant. His overt compliment sends shivers up my spine. After we’re seated and the waiter leaves, I start to open my menu but the look on Jake’s face has me stopping. It’s appraising, and his eyes seem to be glittering with more than just appreciation. “What?” I ask almost defensively. He smiles as he shakes his head at me. “You have no clue.” “Clue about what?” “You and that dress,” he murmurs in a low voice, but I hear him clearly. His words reverberate through me. “Skin tight. Cherry red. Miles of bare legs and those heels that put your mouth closer to mine when we’re standing face to face. You’re just going to have to get used to me ogling you.” “Just a girl in a dress,” I mutter and look down at the menu. “Not just a girl in a dress,” he disagrees, and my gaze rises slowly to meet his. “You’re a gorgeous country veterinarian and a brilliant, sexy woman. When we walked through this restaurant, every man turned their head to look at you. Made me jealous and proud at the same time.” I’m utterly surprised when heat flushes up the front of my neck and seems to settle in my cheeks. “You are not blushing,” Jake teases me. “Are you?” I ignore him, staring down at my menu. He’s not done with me, though. “Not sexy, confident, goes-for-what-she-wants Laken Mancinkus.” But I’ve had enough. I look him in the eye and change the subject. “You did really good, Mr. McDaniel. I’ve been dying to eat here.” “You’re a foodie, huh?” he asks as he ignores the menu and reaches for the wine list. “I guess you could say that,” I say vaguely. In fact, it’s one of the things I missed the most about Raleigh. I love my hometown of Whynot, but there’s not much in the way of fine dining. When I lived in Raleigh for the two years following my graduation from vet school, I ate out a lot and there was never any shortage of wonderful restaurants opening since the Triangle

—that would be Raleigh, Durham, and Chapel Hill—is one of the fastest growing metropolitan areas in the nation. The waiter returns, and Jake orders a bottle of wine for us. He does it with confidence and panache. It’s been a long time since I’ve been out with someone with those qualities, and that has been absolutely by choice. While I really wanted to come to Raleigh tonight on a nice dinner date with Jake, and while Jake is about as perfect company as one can get, it still causes some uneasy feelings to well up within me. It brings back bad memories because this used to be my thing. Fancy dinners, sports cars, expensive condo, jewelry. I fell for every bit of it, thinking it was the life for me, when really, I was a fool for ever trying to be anything different. “Those look like some serious thoughts,” Jake says as he continues to ignore the menu. I put on a bright smile. “No, not at all. Just thinking it’s been a long time since I came out to a nice meal like this.” “Not too much five-star dining in Whynot, huh?” Jake says before taking a sip of his water. At that moment, the waiter brings us our wine. I wait a moment as Jake is presented with a taste and approves it. After both our glasses are three-quarters full, I tell him, “Actually, we have a really nice upscale restaurant in Whynot. I mean… not upscale like this, but you can get a nice filet or salmon, good selection of wines. Wonderful desserts. It’s called Clementine’s.” “I saw it,” Jakes says with a nod. “On the next block over from your clinic.” “You should try it sometime,” I tell him and then pick up my wine. “And let me say, welcome back to Whynot. I know it’s not your permanent home, but looks like you’ll be here for a bit at least.” Jake taps his glass against mine. “Our next dinner, we’ll go to Clementine’s.” I give him a tart smile before I sip my wine. When I set it down, I say, “What makes you think there will be a next time?” Jake just gives me a confident grin, looking at me over the rim of his glass while he also indulges in a sip of the red he’d chosen. When he puts his glass down, he says, “You’ve been in my bed twice, Laken, and it was beyond fantastic for both of us. I expect you’ll be back in it tonight, and that’s not ego talking. You enjoy me as much as I enjoy you. But that doesn’t have to be all. We can enjoy things like dinner and maybe even taking MG out on a walk or something.” I can’t help the snicker that pops out. The thought of me and Jake walking MG down Main Street on a leash is almost too much to bear. Choosing not to give any credence to his assertion, because he’s totally right that I’ll be back in his bed tonight, I ask him, “Seriously… can you really run your business from

here?” Jake nods. “The world is flat. There isn’t anything I can’t do from here. I can access anything via the internet, attend meetings by Skype, and sign documents electronically. I’ve got a good executive team in Chicago as well, so it’s doable. Not ideal, but doable for the short term.” “What are you really trying to accomplish with Farrington Farms?” I ask, because I’d like some more perspective since Colt is so bent out of shape. Jake studies me and for just a brief moment, I think maybe he has a nefarious motive. But he surprises me by saying, “It’s true I want the farm for a tax break, but I’m also trying to help out my sister-in-law.” “Your brother’s wife?” I take a hesitant guess. Jake shakes his head but before he can explain, I blurt out, “You’re married?” “God, no,” he says quickly with a chuckle. “I was married. Divorced over a year now, but I’m trying to help out my ex-wife’s sister, Darby.” Immediately, relief sweeps out the dark disappointment that had filled me at the thought I was sitting across the table from a married man. I’m not sure what it means, that he’d still want to help his ex’s sister, so I ask, “What does she have to do with the farm?” “Darby is an agronomist,” Jake says. “A really smart one. She worked at John Deere in Moline and married a coworker, but she quit when they had their daughter, Linnie. The marriage crumbled, and Darby went back to school to complete her Ph.D. so she could do something with a degree that had gotten a little dusty over the past few years.” Of course I knew what an agronomist is. It wasn’t possible to come from a farming family and not know. People who work in the field of agronomy are mainly researchers, studying the science and associated technologies regarding plant production. “So, she’s what?” I ask. “Going to get practical experience or something?” “Darby’s marriage ended badly,” Jake says, and his soft tone shows me that he cares for this woman a great deal. “She wants to relocate, and there’s a company focusing on crop sciences right here in the Triangle she’d love to get in on. But she needs to complete her thesis.” “And her thesis has something to do with Farrington Farms,” I conclude. “She wants to start a peach orchard, and her thesis will focus on the application of various micronutrients to boost production,” he tells me. “It gives her a place to live while she completes her thesis, and I can pay her a salary to watch over the farm. It gets her away from her ex, who is not a very nice guy at all.” “And why does she need the grant?” I ask. Because really, that’s what Colt is focused on. “I have no idea,” Jake says with a shrug. “But I’m going to find out. She’s coming down next week to take a look around. Maybe she and Colt can talk.”

I snort. “He’s pretty mad. I don’t think he’d have much nice to say to her.” “It’s just a grant,” Jake says. “It’s just our livelihood,” I retort. “This isn’t for an educational paper or to see who can grow the prettiest peaches. Mainer Farms depends on that grant each year.” “I checked into it,” Jake says hesitantly. “There’s a third applicant as well.” “What?” I ask, sitting up straighter in my chair. No one had ever competed with the Mainers before. “Goddard Farms,” Jake says. I mutter a curse under my breath. They have a small turkey farm on the edge of the county, and I have no clue why they are throwing their hat into the ring. I’ll have to ask Colt about it. “So that’s my real story, Laken,” he says as he picks his wine glass up again. “I bought the farm for a tax write-off, but I also bought it to put my sister-in-law up and let her complete her Ph.D. Two birds, one stone.” “Admirable,” I murmur. “I’m assuming the sister-in-law part,” Jake says with a grin. “Nothing admirable about taxes.” “Well, there’s that.” Jake holds his glass of wine out, and I do the same, now tapping my rim to his. “To the most beautiful girl down South,” Jake says. “I’m really glad I met you, Laken Mancinkus.” Heat settles back in my cheeks and low in my belly. Jake is being absolutely genuine in his compliment but not in an unnecessary way. He knows I’m a sure bet tonight. But I can see the appreciation and respect of my company in his gaze. As I sip at my wine, any of the unease I’d been experiencing before seems to melt away. Jake is not Cam. Well, he’s similar, but it doesn’t mean he’s the same as Cam. “I want to hear the real story of why you left Raleigh for Whynot to practice,” Jake says, and I immediately go stiff all over. How could I be silently comparing Jake to Cam, and then he just ask about the reasons why I ran away from Raleigh? For a second, I think about making up some benign story. Maybe the old, “I’m just a small-town girl” type of thing, but I’m betting Jake would see through it. But then, why shouldn’t I tell him the truth? Why not just lay it out there so he knows no matter how many fancy dinners he takes me on or how many times he makes me scream with pleasure, it will never be anything more than just a casual fling to me.

“Okay, Mr. McDaniel,” I say with a wink. “I’ll tell you my story. But after we eat as I’m starved.” “Deal,” he says with a grin and finally picks up his menu to peruse. I do the same, and I actually feel okay about this. It’s not a story I tell many people because it really has no bearing on things. My relationships are passionate but short-lived. If Jake is going to be here for a while, then he probably needs to know the truth so we keep our expectations in line with reality. ♦

Herman On the competition… I’M NOT QUITE sure what’s going on. A few hours ago, Mom spent a lot of time in her bathroom doing weird things to her face and hair. She sprayed on some stuff that made my nose tickle, and I sneezed. When she picked up her keys, I got excited because I thought we might go for a ride, but she patted me on the head and told me I had to stay home and be a good boy. Some hours later, I was snoozing in the middle of her bed pretty hard when she came home, and was slightly confused when she yelled from the front door, “Come on, Herman. We’re going for a ride.” Of course, I flopped from back to belly and shot off the bed, careened off the wall, and barreled into her. I was enjoying a nice double-ear scratching from my mom when I suddenly noticed a man standing near her. The same man who had scratched my ears when I was lying on that porch the other night, protecting Mom and that funny-smelling little animal. He seemed all right then, and I guess he’s all right now. I push my head into his leg, and he gives me an ear scratch, too. Yeah… he’s okay. Mom and the man engage in gibberish. No clue what it means. “Want to pack a bag?” “Nope. I’ll just do the walk of shame tomorrow morning.” “You said you’d lounge tomorrow morning rather than run out.” “I suppose I did.” The man laughs. Mom packs a bag. Then we’re heading outside, and Mom has me get in her truck. We follow the man back to the house with the funny-smelling animal, but rather than me staying on the porch, I’m invited inside. I follow Mom and the man upstairs, but when we get to a room, Mom turns to me and says, “No, Herman. You stay out here.”

She scratches my ear, kisses my snout, and then closes the door. I curl around three times and lay on the floor just outside the door. Tonight, I’m protecting Mom and the man. I wonder where the funny-smelling beastie is?

CHAPTER 13

Jake

“D

O THAT AGAIN,” Laken orders me, so I do.

Brush my lips across the side of her neck, and then smile against her skin as she shivers. “God, I love that beard,” she murmurs, and this I already know. She’s been vocal about it as I’ve made sure to have it caress pretty much every part of her body. My arms tighten around her, and I pull her in closer. This morning is the first time we’ve woken up together where she doesn’t rush out the door for other commitments, and I find I like it very much. She wiggles in my arms and starts to push away. I release my hold, and she rolls out of our spooning position until she’s standing by the bed. “What the hell, woman?” I grumble as I prop my head up on my palm. “You said you didn’t have to work today. You said Sunday was a day of rest. I demand you get back in bed and rest with me.” Laken gives me a smirk as she rummages through the duffel bag she’d thrown on the floor and shimmies into a pair of faded jeans. “I don’t have to work today, city boy, but there are things that can’t be ignored.” “Like what?” I ask as my eyes cut to the alarm clock. “It’s only six AM.” Her shirt goes over her head without a bra, and this gives me encouragement. She laughs and says, “I’ve got to let Herman out to do his business, and then I’ll be right back. I figure that will give us an hour in bed before you have to feed MG. Can you survive without me for a few minutes?” I give a grumble of assent and turn onto my back. “I suppose.” But inside, I’m smiling because she’s coming back. Laken blows me a kiss, then she’s out the bedroom door to take Herman out for his morning constitutional or whatever it is he does. I stare at the ceiling for a second, and then let my eyes drift around the master bedroom. Mr. Farrington’s deceased wife must have decorated it because the wallpaper is cream with tiny roses all over it. Totally not my taste, but it doesn’t matter. This isn’t going to be my home and Darby will be living here soon. I learned a lot about Laken last night. Mostly, what makes her tick and that’s because she was up front with me about a past relationship that hurt her badly. Oh, I’d clearly gotten from her prior that she’s not big into commitments or relationships.

Over coffee and dessert, I’d learned that all had to do with one Dr. Camden Barrows. He’s a preeminent veterinarian in Raleigh with a mega-practice that has six locations around the area. Laken got a job with his practice straight out of school. She also fell in love with him, and she admitted it wasn’t hard to do because he persistently pursued her. He was wealthy, charming, well-respected, and was apparently a damn good veterinarian. Within a year, they were living together in his downtown condo and her world revolved around him and the veterinary practice. He talked about marriage and bringing her into the business as an owner. Dr. Barrows promised her the world on a silver platter, and he supplemented those promises with extravagant trips, jewelry, and other such romantic but expensive gestures. I’d already seen the writing on the wall as Laken was telling me the story. Her voice became slightly bitter as she pushed forward, and by the time she’d told me he’d been cheating on her—with another veterinarian in the practice, I was prepared for it. What I wasn’t prepared for was the lengths he went to manipulate her after. He wanted to make it work, gave her more promises, and an offer of marriage. She contemplated all of it, thinking there was room for forgiveness for an indiscretion. Turns out… he had lots of other indiscretions. Apparently, he had also made a lot of the same promises to other women. What I’ve come to know about Laken is that she’s proud and headstrong. She quit her job and moved home to Whynot with the intent of opening her own practice. Apparently, Dr. Barrows’ parting words were, “You’ll never make it. You don’t have the business savvy or the fortitude to be successful. Hell… you’ve only been out of school for two years. You don’t even know all there is to know about how to practice veterinary medicine.” Laken had admitted, “That stung worse than anything. The way in which he tried to tear me down and make me doubt myself.” “Did it work?” I’d asked her. Her honesty knew no bounds. “Yes. It worked.” Outside of wanting to punch Dr. Barrows’ teeth down the back of his throat, the next important thing I wanted was to take Laken’s mind off her past. When we got back to Whynot, we stopped by her house, got her dog, and some clothes, and then we came here and forgot about anything but each other for the rest of the night. The bedroom door opens and Laken slips in, Herman right behind her. She turns and holds up a hand. “Sit.” His butt hits the ground. She lowers her hand, pressing the palm toward the floor. “Down.” Herman flops on his belly and places his chin on his paws as he looks up at her with adoration. I see it in his eyes and know it by the way his tail thumps on the hardwoods.

Laken then turns to me, giving me a sexy smile. I study the ease and confidence with which she removes her clothing so she can slip back into bed with me. From it, I know Barrows didn’t break everything about her. She still has a large measure of self-assurance, and that’s sexy beyond measure. “Going to let the dog watch us?” I ask curiously. She looks over her head at Herman. “Close your eyes.” The dog thumps his tail harder and I swear, he actually grins at her. Turning to me, she shrugs, “I’m sure he won’t be too traumatized.” I laugh but it’s brief and slides away as Laken’s knee hits the mattress. “Hi, you,” she says with a sultry tone as she crawls on top of me. My arms wrap around her as she lays flat against me. “Whatcha wanna do today?” “Would it be absolutely irresponsible of me if I said I wanted to spend all day in bed?” I ask her. “Pretty much,” she points out. “You have a little goat to feed. And you should check up on how Carlos is handling things.” “And I actually have some other work I need to get done,” I add on glumly. I’ve always worked on Sundays, but damn if I don’t want to be lazy with Laken today. “Okay, how about this?” she says, and then tilts her head to brush her lips over my beard right at my jawline. “Let’s do dirty things to each other, then we’ll get a shower. I’ll help Carlos to gauge how he’s doing, and you get your work done. Then we’ll have the afternoon to do whatever.” “I like it,” I say with a broad smile. My hands come up to frame her face, and I pull her down for a kiss. She gives the cutest little moan that basically says, That’s awesome but let’s move this along. Instead, I pull back and look at her straight in the eyes. “I could be here for a while.” She nods. “I know.” “I want you in my bed every night. Or your bed… whichever. But every night.” “Greedy,” she teases me. “Sure… you can call it that,” I say easily. “But I sort of got the impression last night you were trying to draw some clear boundaries after you told me all about Dr. Jackass.” Laken doesn’t laugh at the mention of our conversation from last night. Instead, she looks wary. “Why are you saying that?” “Because I don’t want you to freak out that I want you in my bed every night.” I can see she wants to deny that she’d ever freak out, but she holds silent. So I push forward with the words I wanted to say last night, but I hadn’t thought it was the right time.

“Laken… you’re amazing. We’ve got a crazy physical connection, and that’s what I’m interested in right now. It’s obvious you don’t want much more than that.” “I don’t,” she says hastily, and without a single thought that she might be wrong about herself. I nod. “I get it. But let me just say this… please don’t compare me to Barrows. It’s one thing if you just aren’t ready to be in a relationship for whatever the reason may be, but at least respect me enough to draw your own conclusions.” “Okay,” she says slowly, but I can tell I’ve confused her. “He’s wrong about you,” I tell her straight up. “You came back and became an immense success.” She rolls her eyes at me. I kiss her on the nose and continue, “You’ve kept a business running here for almost seven years now. You’re in a small town with not much market. Sure, you trade in goods if necessary, but you also live in a nice home, drive a nice truck, and have a wonderful family supporting you. More important, I’ve watched you practice and you’re amazing. I’ve seen you hunt down wayward goats, give shots, and clean oversized Milk bones out of a ferocious dog’s teeth. You do back-breaking work, and you always do it with the number-one goal of making sure an animal is well cared for. That jackass didn’t run you off. He showed you the path to where you should be. And while I’m here, I’d like you to be in bed with me. Is that clear enough?” Laken blinks at me several times as she processes, and I can tell I’ve struck a good chord with my affirmations. “No long-term promises, though?” she asks for clarification. “I mean… you’ve got a life in Chicago, and I have my life here. This is just… temporary.” “It is what it is, Laken,” I chide. “Don’t put a label on it. Yes, I want you in my bed, but I want to take you out, I want to go play pool at Chesty’s, I want you to help me teach MG how to eat from her mama, and I want to go back and eat oysters again—” “Okay, I get it,” she says with a laugh. “And I promise I won’t compare you to Camden.” “Can you not say his name?” I ask with a grimace. She grins at me. “Jackass?” “Perfect,” I say with a squeeze. “Now let’s get dirty with each other.” Her laugh is cut off as I roll her underneath me and kiss the breath out of her.

CHAPTER 14

Laken

“S ,

O OUT FOR a Sunday stroll?” Larkin asks as she stares dreamily at Jake through the

window. She’s got her forearms on the glass case housing all sorts of confectionary delights she created, looking right past me to Jake. He’s standing on the sidewalk outside of Sweet Cakes, his cell phone pressed to his ear. I’d been giving him the grand tour of Whynot today, which so far only included pointing out Trixie’s law firm, which sits in between Chesty’s and Sweet Cakes. I decided I wanted a jumbo chocolate-chip-cookie sandwich that Larkin fills with the lightest, delicately sweet cream in the entire world. Just as we were getting ready to walk in, Jake got a call on his cell. He took one look at the number and gave me an apologetic smile. “Sorry… I’ve got to take this, but I’ll be right in as soon as I’m done.” “No problem,” I said, surprised when his free hand came to the back of my head and he laid a sweet kiss on my lips. After, I stumbled into Sweet Cakes where I found Larkin, resting her chin on her forearms as she watched the scene play out through the front window of her bakery. “Something like that,” I murmur and struggle not to bring my fingertips to my lips so I can smooth away the tingling he left behind. Larkin had already seen Jake once… that day he came barging into Chesty’s demanding help to round up his wayward goats. While I’ve seen Larkin since then, because I see my twin almost every day, she’s not seen me with him. She knows I’ve been sleeping with him because I have no filter and I tell her everything. I’m a free spirit with a serious aversion to commitment at this point in my life, and she’s aware of that. It’s why she has that sappy, dreamy look on her face… because I’ve never brought a man to Sweet Cakes. Or Chesty’s. Or Central Cafe where we had breakfast this morning, ensuring I was the top headline for the gossip mill by the time I’d finished my last piece of bacon. When I snap my fingers in front of Larkin’s eyes several times, she blinks and finally straightens to look at me. My twin gives me a huge, knowing grin. “You got to admit, he’s nice to look at.” “Oh, yeah,” I answer with a resounding grin. “That premature silver he’s got going on,” she observes. “And that beard.”

“Those muscles, too. Is he good in bed?” she queries in a soft voice, but I’m not sure why. Jake’s outside and no one else is in the bakery. “He’s amazing.” I look over my shoulder at Jake. He’s wearing a tight-fitting polo shirt with a pair of navy shorts, and he looks like he belongs in an advertisement of a man on a sailboat hawking an expensive cologne or something. “Is he serious potential?” she asks. I shake my head vehemently. “He lives in Chicago. I live here.” “So?” Rolling my eyes at my sister, I tell her the tough facts of life. “It’s just sex, Larkin. Good sex. Fun sex. I enjoy spending time with him. But eventually, he’s going to go back and I’m going to go on with my life.” “That’s so depressing.” Larkin pouts, but then her lips curve into a welcoming smile as the door opens. Jake steps in, tucking his cell phone in his pocket. “Sorry about that,” he tells me. “Business.” “No worries,” I say with a shrug. “You remember my sister, Larkin? That day you so rudely burst into Chesty’s and looked right over us women as if we didn’t have the brains to be veterinarians.” “Well, I, for one, don’t have those brains,” Larkin quips as she extends her hand over the case. Jake takes it, and they shake. “But it’s nice to officially meet you.” “Jake McDaniel,” he says, although I’d already told Larkin his name, along with everything else I knew about him, through visits or text exchanges. And then he turns to me and glares. “And I did not look over you two as women who couldn’t possibly be smart enough to be veterinarians. I’ve already told you this. I was freaking out because the goats were in the road.” Snickering, I pat him on the arm. “I know. I just like to give you hell.” “Evil woman,” he mutters as he peers into the bakery case. “So Laken tells me everything in here is phenomenal, but what is your absolute favorite?” Larkin reaches into a display case with a piece of parchment in her hand and grabs a pastry. She hands it across to Jake. “The cream horns.” Jake accepts it with one hand and reaches into his pocket with the other, but Larkin waves him off. “On the house. A welcome to Whynot.” “Thanks! That’s really nice,” Jake says and then takes a big bite. He groans with delight, and I turn to grin at Larkin. “Give me a chocolate-chip-cookie sandwich,” I tell her. She hands me one. “That’s two-fifty.” I dig into my little clutch purse, but Jake growls at me. “I’ve got it.”

Before I can even move, he’s set the cream horn on top of the display case, and pulls out a twenty. “Throw a few more of those in there.” Larkin smiles knowingly as she fills a pink box with my favorite treats, and I look up at Jake with a cocked eyebrow. He merely grins at me and says, “Just get used to it.” “We’re not dating though,” I say adamantly. “If it makes you feel better to say that, then by all means,” he says as he grabs his cream horn. “I’m not going to stop you. But not going to agree with you either.” “You said we shouldn’t put a label on this,” I mutter. Jake doesn’t respond to me. He merely looks across at Larkin. “Is she always stubborn like this?” Larkin wrinkles her nose and nods. “It kind of runs in the family.” “I’ll remember that,” Jake says with a laugh and holds the pastry up. “And thanks again for the treat.” After Larkin seals the box, makes change for Jake, and we chat a little bit more, we decide to head over to Chesty’s for a beer before we have to get back for MG’s afternoon feeding. We tried a new tactic today, but it failed miserably. Miserably and hilariously at the same time. Jake sat on the barn floor, and MG jumped into his lap. I sat down right beside him, our legs both stretched out. As per usual, MG started in on the bottle, hungrily sucking down the formula. After she had about half the bottle down, I casually reached my hand over and laid it on top of Jake’s that was holding the bottle. MG didn’t seem to notice, her throat working double time in her hunger. Slowly, Jake slid his hand out and my hand gripped the bottle. For two whole seconds, I fed MG. But then she released the bottle, turned in Jake’s lap, and then bleated at me with what I swear was a berating diatribe of how I tried to pull one over on her. Jake burst out laughing, but I was actually offended. He merely took the bottle from me and fed his goat again, cooing soft words to her. I don’t foresee Jake being able to leave Whynot anytime soon. Still, we agreed we’d try this every day for at least one feeding, alternating with Carlos, too. Inside Chesty’s, I’m disappointed to see Pap isn’t at his stool. After Jake and I order our beers, I ask Sam-Pete, “Where’s Pap? He’s usually in around this time.” “Said he wasn’t feeling good,” Sam-Pete says with a slight shrug, but I can see the worry in his eyes. “He hasn’t been feeling good a lot lately.”

“What?” I ask in astonishment. Because this is the first I’ve heard of it. “He’s been spending most of his time in his apartment,” Sam-Pete says as he leans over the counter to talk in a lower voice to me. He’s not about to share Pap’s business. “He’ll come down around the dinner hour when he knows one of you kids are likely to come have a beer with him, but for the most part, he stays up there.” Something hard knots up in my stomach, and I push right back off my stool. “I’m going to go check on him.” “Want me to come with you?” Jake asks, and I can see he’s fed off the worry in SamPete’s look and my voice. I shake my head. “Nah. I’m sure it’s nothing. I’ll be right back down.” I turn and make it one step before Jake has his hand on my wrist. I look over my shoulder at him, but he doesn’t say a word. He only tugs on my arm, so I take a step back toward him, then he leans over and kisses my wrist. And that’s it. He releases me and turns back toward his beer. I vaguely hear him ask Sam-Pete if he can find a Cubs game on the TV to watch. Pap lives above Chesty’s in a small apartment. He’s been here for over two decades since he came to Whynot. Mama and Daddy tried to get him to live at the farmhouse, but he wasn’t having any of it. Said he was far too independent for that, and no one would disagree with him. As I climb the staircase that runs up to his apartment, I try to think back to the last several times I’d seen Pap. I see him a few times a week at a minimum, often more since my clinic is less than a stone’s throw from the bar. He’s seemed fine, I think. Voice clear and resilient. Hugs strong. No pain on his face. What the hell is wrong with him? I knock on the door, giving two sharp raps because he’s almost completely deaf in his right ear and he’s not the greatest about wearing his hearing aids. I hear nothing at first, but then his shuffling gait getting closer to the door. When he opens it, he blinks at me in surprise. “What are you doing here?” “Why aren’t you down in the bar?” I throw back at him, knowing I’m coming off a little defensive but he’s clearly hiding something. Pap shrugs and turns away from the door, shuffling toward his living room. He’s got on a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt, with a lightweight blanket wrapped around him. His apartment is stifling, yet he seems to be cold.

“Sam-Pete said you weren’t feeling well,” I say, seeing he’s hunched over a little. “Just a tummy ache,” he grumbles as he sits down in his recliner. “Nothing to worry your pretty head about.” “He said you’ve been spending most of your days up here,” I continue. “That’s not like you.” While Pap doesn’t spend one-hundred percent of his time in Chesty’s, he’s there often. But when he’s not downing a beer with friends, he’s either flirting with his landlady MaryMargaret Quinn or shooting the breeze with Floyd at his hardware store. Pap’s a local on town square almost every single day, and he once said he was afraid he’d die if he ever slowed down. “You’re not dying, are you?” I ask fearfully as I come to kneel at his feet. Pap reaches a hand out, and I think he’s going to stroke my cheek or something. Instead, he pops me on the back of my head, not hard enough to hurt but enough to let me know my question was stupid. “Of course I’m not dying,” he says in exasperation. “I’m just not feeling good. I’m eighty-one years old, you know.” “What about your stomach is hurting?” I ask, because although I’m just a veterinarian, I do have generalized medical experience and much of what happens in animals happens in humans, too. “It’s just hurting,” he grumbles petulantly. “More when I eat.” “For how long?” I push at him. “A few weeks, maybe,” he replies, and I can hear a very slight tremor of worry. “Anything else?” I ask firmly, because I can sense now that he doesn’t know what to do. He remains quiet though, his eyes refusing to meet mine. “Pap…” Finally, his gaze lifts and his brown eyes pin me in place. “Some blood in my stool.” My stomach drops. “What color?” To my surprise, Pap’s face flames red and he snaps at me, “What the hell difference does it make what color it is? Isn’t anything sacred anymore?” “What color?” I snap right back at him, because I know enough to know that one could be very dangerous and the other not as much. “Black. Dark,” he finally mutters. Sucking in a deep breath, I let it out slowly. I push up from my knees and stand over him. “This could be serious, Pap. That’s old blood. Something inside of you is bleeding.” “Well, I kinda figured that might be the case,” he mumbles.

“And you didn’t think you should see a doctor for it?” I ask him incredulously, my anger now starting to replace my fear. “I’m an old man, Laken,” he says softly. “I’ve led a long life. A good life. What do I care?” “You may not care, but I do and so does everyone else in your family. This whole town for that matter,” I snarl at him. “You’re going to a doctor, and I’m taking you. Get dressed.” Pap’s chin pulls sharply inward. “What? Now?” “Yes, now,” I say as I walk into his bedroom to find his shoes. “Doc Galloway will work you in.” “I am not going to see Galloway right now,” Pap grumbles. To prove his point, he kicks his recliner back. “I’ll make an appointment next week.” Pap thinks he’s got the best of me, but he has no clue how dirty I can play. I don’t even bother arguing. Instead, I pull my cell phone out of my purse and dial Trixie’s work number as I saw her car parked out front. She answers on the second ring. “What’s up?” “Get up here to Pap’s apartment right now,” I tell her, and that’s all I need to say. She can hear it in my voice. “I’m on my way,” she says and hangs up. Trixie is Pap’s girl. He won’t say no to her, so he knows he’s been defeated. With a sigh, he pushes the recliner back into an upright position and mutters, “Damn meddling, conniving kids.” Trixie arrives in under thirty seconds. It takes me another two minutes to explain things to her, another minute for Pap to put up a small fight, and then we have him packed up and out the door. I offer to come with them, but Pap tells me he doesn’t want a big fuss. He lets us figure out who will take him, but I immediately defer to Trixie. Because she’s Pap’s girl and those two are thicker than thieves, I know he’d feel slightly better with her by his side than me, and that’s quite all right as long as he’s going to the doctor.

CHAPTER 15

Jake

A

FTER TRIXIE LOADED Pap up and took him to the doctor, Laken asked me to take her

home. We’d dropped Herman off there earlier, and I’m thinking she just wanted the familiar surroundings of her own place. When we got there, I didn’t even think twice about getting out of my rental car—a Ford sedan this time—and following her into the house. She didn’t tell me to stay out, nor did she invite me in. Laken went straight to the kitchen and started unloading the dishwasher. Herman walked into the kitchen, and as if he sensed his mom was lost in thought, he merely laid on the floor beside her. She doesn’t have to tell me how important her grandfather is to her, because I can read it by the waves of tension and worry coming off her. I don’t try to provoke conversation, but merely let her talk about what she wants to. Weirdly, she wants to talk about elephants. “Did you know that an elephant herd is led by a matriarch?” she asks as she starts moving clean glasses from the dishwasher to a cupboard. “I did not,” I say as I take a seat at her kitchen table. It’s a light oak, farmhouse style, with a white tiled top. It totally suits her. She nods and continues, moving on to the plates. “They’re fascinating animals. They show humor, compassion, and playfulness. They’re one of the closest-knit animal societies, and they even exhibit cooperative tendencies.” I’m not quite sure where she’s going with this, but I feel compelled to ask. “You have to learn this stuff in vet school?” She shakes her head, but keeps her focus on the silverware she’s now sorting and putting away. “I watched a Nat Geo special a few weeks ago.” “They’re really smart animals, right?” I ask. She puts a coffee cup and a small plate from the sink in the now-empty dishwasher, closes it, and turns to face me. She leans back against the counter, palms on the edge. “Extremely smart. They have the largest brain of any land animal and three times as many neurons as humans.” “I didn’t know that,” I say softly, because I’m finally getting it. She’s trying to do anything she can to not think about her grandfather right now. Laken nods a bit too enthusiastically and says, “They’re empathetic animals. They show affection by winding their trunks with each other. They show compassion for other

species, too. They’ve even been known to help rescue other trapped animals.” I don’t respond, but there’s no need too. Laken’s gaze drops to her linoleum floor and her eyebrows draw inward. She takes in a tiny breath and whispers, “They grieve for their dead.” I wasn’t going to make a move, figuring my place was just to let her occupy her mind in any way that she could. But I hear the tremor in her voice, and I can tell her mind has already skipped way ahead to losing Pap. I’m out of the chair and pulling her into my arms before she can even look at me. Wrapping her up tight, I give her a squeeze when she turns her head to press her cheek to my chest. It takes only a moment, but her arms go around my waist. “Don’t think like that, baby,” I tell her softly, and then Herman’s up and pushing his head in between us. Laken drops a hand to scratch at his head, and he whines softly. And that’s when I feel her body jerk slightly in my arms, and I realize it’s a tiny sob that she’s refusing to let out. I know enough about Laken to realize she’s a tough woman and probably doesn’t want me to see her tears. So I give her some facts of my own to see if I can get her focus elsewhere. “Did you know that goats were first tamed by humans as herd animals over nine thousand years ago?” I ask. She jolts again slightly, but this time lifts her head to look at me. Her eyes swim with curiosity instead of fear, so I push forward. “I read a lot of stuff on goats trying to figure out how to break MG’s bond with me,” I tell her, bringing my hands to her face. Grazing my thumbs along her cheekbones, I say, “Of course, I didn’t learn a damn thing that would help me, but I find it fascinating that goats’ pupils are rectangular, which gives them vision for 320 to 340 degrees compared to us lowly humans with our round pupils. We only get 160-210 degrees.” She just stares at me a moment before she says, “You can be weird sometimes, but I like the distraction of it.” I’ve never been called weird before but I’ll take it right now, because I even get a tiny smile from her. “The most disturbing fact I learned is that goat is the most consumed meat per capita worldwide. That creeps me out beyond measure.” “I’ve actually had goat,” Laken says in a matter-of-fact tone. “It’s not bad at all.” “No wonder MG doesn’t trust you or any other human,” I scoff, and Laken bursts out laughing. I kiss her on the mouth. “How about we make some dinner? It would be rude of you to invite me into your home and not offer to feed me.” “I didn’t invite you into my home,” she says drily. “Oh, you want me here,” I say confidently. “Now feed me, woman.” “Are you trying to handle me?”

“Yup.” “To get my mind off Pap?” “Yup.” “You know, sex would work better,” she points out, but she’s not serious. She’s still far too worried and waiting for a phone call that will either scare the crap out of her or ease her mind. I think us cooking something will be a better way to pass the time. Pulling away from Laken, I brazenly walk over to her refrigerator and open it up. “I’m starving. Let’s cook something.” “How about breakfast?” she says as I spot about the only ingredients in there that could possibly make a meal. I grab the eggs and bacon, and turn to her. “Breakfast it is.” ♦ WE’RE JUST EATING the last of our food—Laken tossing the last piece of her bacon down to Herman—when her cell phone rings. She snatches it so fast from the table she almost knocks her water glass over, but my hand shoots out to steady it. She taps the icon to put the phone on speaker, holding it in the middle of the table for me to listen in on. I’m guessing it’s Trixie or Pap as she answers, “Well… what is it?” “They’re going to admit him to county hospital,” Trixie says, and Laken’s tanned face goes pale. “Doc Galloway did some bloodwork and said he was concerned about the results. Something about his CBCs and liver function. So they want him to get a CT scan of his abdomen, and then they’re going to start prepping him for an endoscopy and a colonoscopy tomorrow.” Damn… that did not sound good at all. “What are they thinking it is?” Laken asks. Her voice sounds strong, but if Trixie were here right now to see her sister’s face, she’d know she’s scared out of her mind. “They’re not thinking anything,” Trixie says in a tone that’s at once both soothing and commanding. “It could be a variety of things.” “Like what?” Laken demands, but I can tell she has her own suspicions. Trixie sighs heavily into the phone before saying, “It could be something as simple as an ulcer.” “Or something as bad as cancer.” Laken finally gets to the real crux of her fear. It’s where my thoughts had gone as well. “There is no sense in worrying at this point,” Trixie gently chides her sister. “Pap’s not worried at all.” “Because he’s a crusty, fearless, former Marine who eats nails for breakfast,” Laken grumbles.

“Probably why his stomach hurts,” Trixie quips, and I’m amazed at both sisters as they start laughing hysterically. From fear to hilarity in a moment’s time. “I’m coming to the hospital,” Laken says as her laughter dies down. “No,” Trixie says firmly. “Pap forbids it. In fact, he’s making me go home as soon as they settle him into a room. He’s also forbidden us to tell anyone else at this point.” Laken practically sputters, “He can’t seriously think we can keep this from Mama and Daddy? They’ll go bananas if they find out he was in the hospital and we didn’t tell them.” “I know,” Trixie says with defeat. “But are you willing to cross him?” “Yes,” Laken says adamantly. “Yes, I am. Pap’s never been in the hospital before unless you count the time Lowe caught him in the back with a fishing hook as he was trying to cast and Lowe was too squeamish to pull the hook out.” “He was five years old,” Trixie defends their younger brother, but then gets back to the more prominent issue at hand. “Are you seriously going to tell Mama and Daddy?” “God, yes, Trixie,” Laken practically whines with frustration. “I love Pap, but I love Mama and Daddy just a tiny bit more since they brought me into this world. They have a right to know. I can tell them not to fuss and make a big deal, but—” “Fine,” Trixie says in resignation. “Want me to go with you?” “No. You stay there and get him settled. I’ll head over to the house now and tell them in person. You better prepare Pap that I’m going rogue, but I’ll try to get them to be content with just calling to check on him tonight rather than forcing a visit on him if he doesn’t want that.” “It’s a plan,” Trixie says. “Call me after you talk to them.” “Will do,” Laken says, and then her voice goes softer than I’ve ever heard it. “Love you, sis.” “Love you more,” Trixie says, and then she disconnects. Laken sets the phone down and gives me an apologetic smile. “Sorry to get you caught up in family drama.” My chin jerks inward and an eyebrow arches. “Drama? I have seven sisters and a brother. You haven’t seen drama until you get all of us together at Thanksgiving to fight over one wish bone.” I was aiming for a desired effect, and I get it. Laken’s eyes crinkle with laughter and for a glorious moment, the stress and worry is gone. My hand shoots out and takes hers. Before she can protest or even think to draw away, I pull it to my mouth and press a kiss to her palm. Releasing it casually by laying it back down on the table, I jerk my head toward her front door. “Go to your parents and tell them

what’s going on. I’ll clean the kitchen, and then go feed MG. I’ll meet you back here later.” Laken gives a hard shake of her head and starts uttering protests as she stands up. “You don’t need to clean my kitchen, and I have no clue how long I’ll be at my parents. There’s no sense in you coming back when I don’t know if—” “You promised me nights,” I cut her off. “Yeah, but—” “And you already promised to abide by Pap’s wishes that you won’t go to the hospital tonight,” I continue. “I know, but—” “And you’re not going to sleep at your parents’ house,” I point out the obvious. “You’ll be back here at some point to go to sleep.” “I get all that,” Laken says with a roll of her eyes. “Then I will be here waiting for you because you promised me nights.” I punctuate this very important oath she made by pulling her into me for a slow but thorough kiss of reminder. When I release her, she gives a sigh of capitulation with just a tiny hint of dreaminess that does all kinds of wonderful things for my ego. “And it doesn’t have to be anything other than just me holding you while you sleep.” Laken tenses slightly, because that goes against the casual nature of what she wants, but she relaxes just as quickly. After a nod, she lifts and presses her lips to mine. “Okay. I’ll meet you back here later tonight.”

CHAPTER 16

Laken

T

HE CHIMING BELL above the clinic door rings, but I don’t leave the back room as I know

it’s Jake. He told me he’d be by at four to pick me up, and this was after he texted earlier to ask when I’d be finished with my last appointment. I do a final wipe down of the counter and equipment with a sanitizing spray. By the time he’s walking in, I’m washing my hands in the large basin sink. Looking over my shoulder at him, I say, “Don’t you have a job or work to do? Must be nice to cut out of work in the early afternoon.” Jake chuckles as he walks to me. When he’s within striking distance, he slaps my butt. “You’re cute. But I’ll have you know I had a very productive day today, my company is running smoothly, and I have a hot date with you.” I pull a few paper towels from the dispenser and dry my hands. After tossing them in the garbage, I cross my arms over my chest and face one gorgeous hunk of man. He makes my knees weak, but I play hard to get, “I told you we weren’t dating.” “And I told you it was fine if you keep telling yourself that, Doc,” he returns with a smirk, and I wonder if he has dimples under that beard. “So where are we going?” I ask as I snag my purse from a lower drawer under the counter. “Out to Eustace’s farm,” he says as he lets me walk past to precede him into the hallway. So what if I like the way his hand feels on my lower back? “Eustace? Why?” “You’ll see,” is how he vaguely answers. By the teasing tone in his voice, I know I won’t get any more than what he chooses to reveal to me. We walk out of the clinic, and he waits for me to lock up. When we turn to his rental car parked parallel out front, I’m surprised to see Miss Goatikins in the front seat, her front legs up on the dashboard looking out. The car is running, and I can see the air conditioning inside rippling the fur on her chest. Her eyes are closed and her nose is raised in the air, a look of pure rapture on her face as she enjoys the chilly air. I don’t say a word as Jake opens the passenger door, and I put MG on my lap after buckling up. It does no good though, because as soon as Jake gets in the driver’s seat, MG pulls out of my arms to curl up at his side. There’s nothing unusual about me knocking off at four o’clock on a Monday afternoon. Hell, some afternoons, I don’t have any appointments. But it does feel a little

weird to be going on a date with a gorgeous man I swear I’m not dating, along with his pet goat. “Darby, my sister-in-law, is coming into town in a few days,” Jake says, and I turn to look at him. He’s got one hand on the wheel, the other scratching MG’s head. “I thought you said she wasn’t starting for a few more weeks.” “I kind of wanted her to see the farm, and talk to her about that grant she applied for. I don’t want there to be bad blood between our farms.” “Why?” I ask curiously. “I mean… Colt’s bent out of shape, but it’s also business.” Jake takes a moment to give me a side-eye look before looking back at the road. “At the risk of sending you scurrying out the door and running screaming down the road as soon as I stop the car, you have to know, Laken… I like you. It’s not just about you in my bed. And if I’m going to have a home here… a business… we’re going to be crossing paths from time to time. I want things to be good between us.” A lump forms in my throat, so large and hard I know I’ll never swallow it down. I can’t speak past it so I turn my head and look out the window. Jake must understand that he’s rendered me speechless because he doesn’t say anything else, but I’m sure he has no clue the depth of my fear when he says things like that. I promised him I wouldn’t compare him to Cam, but he’s so similar to him in some ways I just can’t help it. Rich guy, smooth, gorgeous, has everything going for him and says all the right words. On the surface, it’s why I was so quickly taken with Cam. Fortunately, any further discussion is postponed as we pull into the dirt driveway to Eustace’s farm. Eustace Roop is an eclectic character in our area. She doesn’t come into town much, preferring to stay on her little farm. And it is little. Pretty much goats for milk that she sells, chickens for their eggs, about a quarter-acre organic garden to feed herself, and a few cows she raises to butcher for her meat. She lives in a rundown single-wide trailer with overgrown weeds and junk stored in piles here and there. But her pens and small pastures are well maintained and since I do the veterinary services, I know the animals are well cared for. She’s waiting for us as we pull in, and I’m surprised to see her dressed a bit strangely. Normally, she’s got on jeans and a long-sleeve chambray shirt no matter how hot it is in the summer. Her iron gray hair is always in a braid down her back, and she wears a straw hat that I’m not sure is all that effective to protect her face as it’s always darkly tanned and leathery looking. I expect she’s probably in her mid-to-late sixties. But today, she’s wearing what looks like a workout outfit. Capri leggings, a loose shirt, and her hair is piled on top of her head in a flowing bun. She’s got a pair of athletic slides on her feet and her hands are folded serenely in front of her. “What the hell?” I mutter, and Jake chuckles as he turns the car off. He doesn’t say a word to me as he gets out, taking MG in his arms.

As I exit, I watch as Jake walks up to Eustace and shakes her hand while he cradles his two-week-old goat in the other. She turns to give me a welcoming smile, and says, “Namaste.” “Huh?” I return slowly. “Namaste,” Eustace says again softly. “Welcome to my new goat yoga class.” “Your what?” I ask, feeling like Jake may have slipped me some psychedelic drugs somehow. Jake laughs and puts an arm around me. After a squeeze, he says, “Eustace is trying out this new thing where you do yoga with goats. She wants to open classes, and I volunteered for us to be her guinea pigs. In return, she’s going to let MG socialize with some of her baby goats and watch them nurse. Maybe that will help things.” “Goat yoga?” I ask, my tongue seemingly thick with disbelief over such a ludicrous idea. “Yeah,” Jake says with a grin. “Be one with the goat. You know?” I turn to Eustace. “You practice yoga?” “For years,” she says in a serene voice. “It’s how I stay in shape as farming is hard work.” “And what do goats have to do with yoga?” I ask her hesitantly, because I’m thinking it’s a legit thing and I don’t want to appear too ill-informed about the goat world. Eustace gives a tinkling laugh, and that shocks me more than her outfit or the fact she does yoga. Normally her laugh is deep and hearty, and it’s like she’s a different person once she put on some yoga pants. “Goats don’t have anything to do with yoga,” she advises me. “But it appears it’s starting to become a fad. A way for urbanites to get their workouts in and commune with cute little goats.” “Weird,” I say honestly. Because it’s so weird. “I’ve already got five classes filled next week with fifteen members per class. That’s a lot more money than I can make selling my goats’ milk.” I whistle low with admiration. “Holy cow. That’s some seriously good money.” I figure if she charged only ten bucks per person, she’d be hauling in a grand a week. “They’re popping up all over the place,” Eustace says. “I’m going to offer some meditative groups and reading therapy sessions as well, but since I know yoga so well, that’s where I’m starting.” I turn to look at Jake, and he’s giving me that look that says, Crazy but brilliant, right? Shrugging nonchalantly, I turn back to Eustace. “Alright… let’s see what you got.” ♦

I HATE YOGA. Absolutely hate it. But I love animals, and there’s something deeply precious about little baby goats jumping on your back as you’re trying to master Downward Dog. Jake is more aptly dressed as he’s wearing a pair of khaki shorts and a light t-shirt. I’d had on jeans while working in the clinic but at least they’re loose and comfortable. Both of us are barefoot as we sit under the shade of a large oak tree with five of Eustace’s herd, plus MG. There are two adult goats and four babies ranging from two weeks to four months. After about five minutes, I give up trying to follow the poses Eustace is trying to lead us through, and instead decide to just play with the animals. As a vet, I don’t get to do this. My work is efficient and clinical. I do it that way because that’s what they taught us in school, and also so I don’t form too much of an attachment to the animals. It hurts less when I have to treat them for sickness or injury, although nothing lessens the pain of having to euthanize one of my patients. So I play. MG stays close to Jake, trying to crawl on his lap and back when she can. The other babies are either crawling on me or jumping around at each other. I love how frisky they are, and their joy in life is almost palpable. In between playing with the animals, I try not to stare overly hard at Jake’s muscled legs. He’s trying to do a lot of the poses for Eustace, but I can tell he’s not all that flexible. Whenever Jake turns to look at me, I let my eyes dart to Eustace so I can pretend I’m interested in what she’s saying. I’m not, but I am fascinated by her abilities. I learn something new every day, and the fact she can bend her body backward almost in half is just damn impressive to me. The entire session lasts forty-five minutes, and I pretty much played with the goats the whole time. I even enticed MG to step away from Jake briefly so I could scratch her chest. Her little tail swished happily, but Jake moved into a new position that caught MG’s attention and she was hopping back over to him to jump onto his chest as he lay back on the mat. And why is there something so hot about a man showing tenderness to a small animal? Jake’s large hands gently rub through MG’s fur, and he’ll often talk to her in brief, gentle words. Good girl. Cutie. Fur ball. Yes, I may have many fears about where this is going with Jake, but I can’t deny he’s the most fascinating man I’ve ever met. A successful, wealthy businessman turned temporary farmer. Sure, he has all of those outer layer trappings Cam did originally that caught my eye, but there is one thing that stands out in stark contrast between the two men.

Jake is genuine. I can see it in his eyes. Whether he’s panicked and acting like a jackass because his goats are in the road or he drops everything in Chicago so his baby goat doesn’t starve to death, he acts without selfinterest. That is what sets him apart not only from Cam, but also from most men I’ve casually dated. I try to push down that realization because it means I might be open to something more with Jake, and I don’t know if I have the courage to even dare to want that. The class is over when Eustace spends a few minutes doing some deep breathing exercises. A four-month-old doeling sits in my lap, chewing on a hunk of my hair while I scratch her ears. When I finally pull the long lock out, it’s covered in goat slobber and chewed hay. It doesn’t bother me in the slightest. We spend about fifteen minutes putting MG in a pen with the dams and baby goats, so she can watch them feed. She’s not having any of it, though, and just stands at the gate, bleating at Jake to pick her up. He starts for the latch to open it once or twice, but I murmur to him to stay strong and work to cut the apron strings. Eventually, we let her out although Jake vows to bring her back the next day, and the day after that, to hopefully teach her how to be a proper baby goat. As we leave Eustace’s farm, Jake says, “Have fun?” “I did,” I say, the enthusiasm in my voice evident. “Good,” he says with a smile. “Now check your messages. You didn’t look at them once the entire time we were there.” This information startles me so much that I can’t move for a second. It’s been less than a day since Pap had his testing done at the hospital. While his endoscopy was normal, he did have some small polyps in his colon that had to be removed and sent to pathology. We were just waiting on those results. Apparently, it didn’t go unnoticed by Jake that I am usually checking my phone about every two minutes for a text or a call I might have foolishly missed. I snag my phone from my purse, and I’m both relieved and annoyed there’s nothing there. I just want to know what’s going on with Pap so I can deal with it. The fear of the unknown is one of my greatest phobias. When I left Cam and returned home, his words of my guaranteed failure ringing clear in my ears, I had never been more petrified of anything in my life. I was so terrified of failure that I almost couldn’t function. It’s not quite how I feel right now, but I have had a constant knot in my stomach since Pap went into the hospital for the testing. Sympathy pains, maybe? “Any word?” Jake asks. “Nothing,” I say and set the phone down on my lap.

Jake’s hand comes across my shoulder until his fingers circle the back of my neck. He gives me a gentle squeeze. “I can’t say it will be alright, babe. But I can tell you you’ll feel better once you know what’s going on.” Gah… this man gets me. “Thank you for the goat yoga,” I murmur as I turn to look at him. He gives me a brief glance before looking back out the windshield. “You knew it would take my mind off things for a while.” “I had a suspicion it might,” he says with a blasé shrug. “Well, again… thank you. It was just what I needed.” “Up for dinner at Clementine’s?” he asks. “Sure,” I say with a smile, relishing against my better advice to myself another night with this man. Another few hours where we will talk and get to know each other, followed by some amazing sex to make things even more intimate between us. This is not going the way I had planned.

CHAPTER 17

Jake

I

GIVE A hard tug on the chain and with a groaning creak, the attic ladder drops down from

the ceiling that sits just above the top stair landing. I’ve been going through the house trying to see what, if anything, needs to be done for Darby before she moves here in a few weeks. She’s coming tomorrow, and I’ll also do a walk-through with her, but figured I should take a look first. The house didn’t have much wrong with it when the inspection was done prior to me closing on the deal. Some shingles needed replacing, the dishwasher wasn’t working, and there were some rotting window casings that needed replaced. Farrington had that all done before we closed. So far, I couldn’t see anything that was required at this point. Darby will only be here temporarily until she can get the orchards up and running. Probably a year at the most for her to study the growth and prepare her thesis. After that, no clue where she and Linnie will end up, although I’m fairly certain they are done with Illinois. She wants to get as far away from her ass of a husband as she can, and since he really doesn’t care about Linnie all that much, she can go anywhere and he won’t put up a fight. My hope is she’ll get that job she wants here in this area, although I’m sure she’ll live in Raleigh for convenience if that occurs. After I pull the ladder to full extension and lock it, I climb up to see what the attic has to offer. This is immediately made difficult by the fact the hanging light bulb over the opening doesn’t work. No worries as I turn on the flashlight app on my phone and shine the powerful light around the space before I climb all the way in. I can see immediately that it’s completely laid with plywood over the rafters and that there is a ton of junk stored up here. I curse at Farrington under my breath as this house was to be completely emptied. Hauling myself into the attic space, I have to stoop to avoid hitting my head on the steeply sloped ceiling. Crap everywhere. Dusty boxes, old furniture, a roll of carpet, a creepy naked female mannequin that I most certainly don’t want to know why he had her, and an artificial Christmas tree. I walk around, pulling some boxes out so I can see what’s behind them. More boxes. I look at the furniture, but it’s not even good antique quality. Broken and perhaps once was going to be fixed but was just stuffed up here and forgotten about. The Christmas tree still has lights and bulbs on it, indicating laziness.

Reaching into the center of the tree, I grab the middle pole to pull it out so I can see what’s behind it and something fairly large comes flying out of the branches. Brown wings brush so closely to my face my hair flutters from the breeze. It scares the crap out of me, and I bring my hands up protectively on pure instinct alone. But then it’s gone, dipping downward and out through the attic opening. I close the attic back up so whatever it is can’t fly back up there and hide. “Just great,” I mutter as I turn for the ladder and trudge back down it. I’m thinking it was a bird that got caught in the attic, and I figure that’s an easy enough fix. I’ll just open every door and window in the house and shoo it out. Except I can’t find the damn thing. I wander through every room on the second floor, then go down to the first. Nothing. With only resolve leading the way, I go back upstairs to search again. I know it has to be up there, and I carefully go through each room. I find it in one of the guest rooms. Hidden in the folds of heavy brocade curtains. And it’s not a bird, but a bat that looks much smaller when it’s all folded up than when it was flying at me. When it first flew past my face, I was convinced it had a wing span of about two feet, but in actuality, the thing would easily fit in the palm of my hand. I shudder, because there is no way in hell that I’m touching that thing. It’s one thing to shoo a bird out of the house, but bats can be rabid. For a moment, I consider calling Laken. This idea is immediately tossed as I realize I’m going to have my entire man card revoked if I call my girlfriend to come and get this bat out of my house. Instead, I do some brief research online and determine that the county has an animal control service. I call them but get nothing but a recording asking me to leave a message. I do but based on the fact the message stated it could be up to forty-eight hours before they could respond, and if it was an emergency to call the police, I wasn’t exactly hopeful they were going to help me with my bat problem. Knowing that thing is upstairs in my house, very close to the room I sleep in, it doesn’t take me long to say to hell with my man card and call Laken. She doesn’t laugh at me, but I can hear the amusement in her voice when she promises me she’ll head right over as soon as she finishes up her current appointment. ♦ “IT’S OKAY,” SHE calls from upstairs. “I’ve got it.” I tentatively walk up the stairs to find Laken coming out of the bedroom with Herman on her heels looking at her curiously. She has the bat wrapped up in a towel, and I eyeball

it warily. Herman looks at it hungrily. “What are you going to do with it?” I ask. “Release it outside,” she says with a smirk. “But he’s probably going to end right back up in your attic. You’ve clearly got an opening in your eaves that will need sealed up.” “Great,” I say as I move back a few steps so she can walk by me with the little monster. “Lowe can get up there and seal it with some steel mesh. I’ll call him to come over.” I follow behind her down the stairs, my eyes pinned to the way she’s holding the bat in the towel. She’s cradling it gently, so gently I’m afraid it might fly out of her hands. When she gets to the bottom of the stairs, she turns around to face me. I scramble backward up three steps to put distance between the bat and me. “Are you afraid?” she asks incredulously, but she knows damn well I’m not liking this flying rodent in my house. “No way,” I say in the deepest voice possible. “Then come here and look at it,” she says sweetly. “It’s just a little brown bat.” Every bit of testosterone in my body is screaming at me to man up and look at the little bat. But my brain, which is filled with logic and reason and the knowledge that bats carry rabies, causes me to rebel. “No, thanks,” I say, still in a deep voice, but she can take the words from me as nothing but prim. Goodbye, man card. It was nice knowing you. Laken laughs. Within that sound, I hear absolute delight that she saved me from the big, bad bat. “You’re lucky we’re out of their breeding season. State law prohibits their removal between May and July so if there were pups up there, they wouldn’t starve.” I try to control a shudder as she leaves. I watch her through the kitchen window as she walks past the barn to let the bat loose. It immediately flies up into the nearest tree, which is still too close to the house in my opinion. I’ll be damned if I’ll tell Laken that, though. As she comes back toward the house, Herman trotting happily beside her with his tail wagging, I grit my teeth at the smirk she still wears on her face. She’s even shaking her head back and forth in what I take to be absolute amusement at my discomfort. Okay… that’s just not going to do. I can’t have the woman thinking there’s a single weakness within me, even though she’d probably pee her pants if she knew I’m also really skittish around lizards for some reason. When her feet hit the top porch step, I’m at the door meeting her, intent on reestablishing my dominance in the relationship.

As soon as she crosses the threshold, I give her a little push on her back toward the stairway. She looks over her shoulder at me curiously. “What are you doing?” “Going to take you upstairs and have mad, passionate, caveman-like sex with you,” I tell her with brutal honesty. She doesn’t balk but sways her hips as she precedes me up the stairs. “Need to reclaim your manhood, right?” she asks knowingly. I grit my teeth and don’t answer. Instead, I give her a firmer nudge with my hands into the master bedroom but past the bed and right into the bathroom. “Shower first,” I tell her. “Why?” she practically purrs but she knows why and she’s going to make me say it. “Because that bat skeeved me out. It flew past me, dropping God knows what little microscopic nasties it has on it. You probably touched it, too.” I manage to control my shudder. “We’ll be fine if we just wash our hands,” she says genially and tries to veer toward the sink. My lips curve into a smile, because I know she’s teasing me. And to show her I can still have fun with this situation despite my discomfort, I wrap my arms around her waist and put my chin on her shoulder. In my sexiest voice, I whisper in her ear, “Come on, Laken. What could be more fun than a middle-of-the-day shower? Getting all slick and soapy together. You know you want to.” The way she melts against me tells me, yeah… she wants to. I brush my lips against her jaw and release her to turn the shower on. Without me needing to tell her to do so, she starts peeling her clothes off. My tongue practically falls out of my mouth as I watch her. “Get naked, city boy,” she says as she nods at me. “Last one in has to wash the other down.” That’s all I need to hear. I start stripping my clothes so fast I hear the seam tear slightly on my t-shirt. I’m so fast, I manage to get my last article of clothing off… that would be my boxers, just as Laken pushes her underwear down her legs. I pull the shower door open. With a grand sweep of my hand toward it, I say, “After you.” “Why thank you, kind sir,” she says sassily but before she can even take a step, a brown streak of fur shoots past both of us. Before I can blink, Herman’s standing in the shower, his tail wagging happily as he grins up at Laken. Laken gives a delighted laugh, which makes Herman’s tail wag harder. She gets a stern look on her face and points toward the bathroom door. But her voice is anything but firm or commanding when she says, “You get out of there right now, mister.”

I roll my eyes. She might as well have just knelt in front of him, taken his big face in her hands, and baby talked him with, “Who’s Mommy’s cutest little doggie woggie?” Herman reacts immediately to her tone. His butt goes up in the air and his head drops down to his paws as he looks at his mom with pure mischief. The water from the shower is completely soaking him. The look on his face and the wild, rolling eyes tells me he’s been deluged with frisky euphoria after getting drenched in the shower, and I don’t believe for a second that he’s going to meekly leave on Laken’s command. ♦

Herman On friskiness… WHEN MY MOM lets me lay in bed with her, and I put my big head on her chest so I can stare at her adoringly while she scratches the back of my neck, it’s the best feeling in the world. The second best is when my puppy spirit takes over. I know as I’ve gotten older the last several months, I’ve had to be a better-behaved dog. Mom does a good job of rewarding me for good behavior, and for the most part, I don’t cause her any disappointment. But there are some days… even some moments, when I’m brought back to the days when Mom used to call me, “You little stinker,” or when she used to call me by my full name, “Dammit Herman”. Whenever I heard “Dammit Herman,” I knew the fun I’d had doing whatever I did to get my full name called out to me had been well worth it. I have the puppy spirit flowing freely now, and let’s face it, I can tell by the look on my mom’s face and the laughter in her voice she’s not mad I jumped in the shower. What really gets me pumped though is that tiny gleam in her eye. I don’t see it often, but when I do, I can translate it rather clearly. It says, “I love you so much, dog, even though you’re so bad. In fact, I think I love you more when you’re bad.” It’s all the encouragement I need. When she points at the door and says a bunch of words—the only one I understand being “out”—I’m filled with the puppy spirit and my actions are no longer my own. The euphoria and pure joy that races through my blood… the need to cause havoc and mayhem that seems to settle deep in my bones… makes me know that “Dammit Herman” is about to let loose. I bolt out of the shower, confused for just a moment when I don’t seem to go anywhere. I take mental stock of my body, and yes… my legs are all moving in a running

pattern, but I’m just not going anywhere. Then it hits me that the floor is slippery and I dig down harder, my claws scraping harshly on the tile. I finally get traction and shoot forward across the bathroom at the speed of light. I go so fast, my ears flap backward and my jowls bounce as I run toward the bedroom. Mom’s little laugh of delight eggs me on further. I sail like one of those giant birds that circle in the sky looking for dead animals onto the bed, where I perform three perfectly executed and tight turns as if I’m chasing my tail. As I come out of the last turn, my eyes catch Mom’s as she stands in the bathroom, this time with her hand clamped over her mouth so as not to laugh at me. Doesn’t matter. I don’t need to hear the sounds. I can tell I’m thoroughly charming her and now more than anything, I must get back to my mom for lots of praise and ear scratches. I shoot back off the bed, across the bedroom, and into the bathroom. But once my feet hit that wet floor again, my legs shoot out from underneath of me, splaying in all directions. My stomach hits the floor and I go sliding. Careening. Totally out of control right at the man my mom really likes called Jake. Jake’s eyes widen, and I can see him make a pathetic effort to get out of my way. I feel my tongue fall out of my mouth and it flaps happily as I glide right on a collision course with Jake. The impact doesn’t hurt me. I tuck my head and hit the soft part of his lower legs. And then all I see is human legs and arms flapping everywhere, seemingly tumbling end over end until I slide right under Jake and he slams down onto the floor behind me. My body comes to a stop at the shower door. Jake starts yelling words that I don’t understand, but I can judge by the tone of his voice that he’s not charmed the way my mom is. Speaking of which, my head snaps toward my mom just as she calls me by my full name. “Dammit, Herman,” she cries, but this time, she’s mad. Then she’s on her knees on the floor beside Jake, and while I don’t understand those words, I recognize the tone. It’s the way she talks to me when she’s worried about something. I’m in big trouble, so I just lay there quietly and watch as my mom checks Jake over. I’m greatly relieved when he stands up and even gives a laugh. A quick look at my mom and I see she’s still looking at Jake. She totally likes him a lot.

CHAPTER 18

Laken

M

Y PHONE RINGS and because it’s my mother’s ring tone, I nab it off my desk. I’ve been

making a concerted effort each day to clean it off before I leave for the day, and so far, I’ve been pretty proud of myself. Right now, it’s pristine with the only thing left out is a resume from a woman I’m interviewing tomorrow as a part-time vet tech. But more important things first. I’ve been on pins and needles waiting for this phone call, so I answer it almost breathlessly. “Are the results in?” “They are,” my mother says. When I hear the sadness in her voice, my heart completely pitches and sinks down low. The news is bad. We’ve been waiting all day to hear the results of some biopsies that were taken from the polyps in Pap’s colon the day before yesterday. I swallow hard. “What is it?” “Cancer,” she says softly, and my heart sinks lower. But her tone is a tad more hopeful when she says, “But it’s not the worst he could have. The doctor says it’s stage II cancer, which means that he’ll probably only need surgery to remove that section.” “Probably?” I ask, pushing for more details. I hate not knowing everything there is to know. In my profession, I have to have every fact because the tiniest thing could have a major impact. “He’ll have to see an oncologist but for the most part, they think it will just be surgery,” she says. My breath rushes out, because while that seems positive in a way, Pap is eighty-one years old. Surgery is going to be tough on him. “How is he?” I ask. To this, my mother gives a hearty snort. “He’s Pap,” she says with part amusement and part irritation. “He’s having a grand old time at Chesty’s this afternoon. At least that’s where he was when he called me and your dad to tell us the results.” “Typical,” I mutter, looking at my watch to note it was getting close to dinnertime. After my crazy mid-morning rendezvous with Jake, which included ridding his house of a rogue bat and then watching my dog nearly kill him in the bathroom, I’d actually enjoyed immersing myself in the humdrum of paperwork this afternoon. But now is as good a time as any to knock off and go sit with Pap. I have no clue what this diagnosis means for him, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to waste time I could be making memories with him.

Funny how something dire like this can make you re-evaluate everything in your life. After a day of work in the clinic, I usually long to just go home and relax. It was rare I’d go hang out with Pap. But now, I feel like time is being wasted even as we speak. “I think I’ll head over there and hang with him for a bit,” I tell my mom. “Your dad and Colt are already there. I expect the rest of the clan will be showing up as well. That’s good.” “Are you coming out?” I ask. “No,” she returns softly. “I think I just want to be alone to absorb this for right now.” My heart swells with both love and sadness for my mom. Pap is her father-in-law, but he’s been very much a father to her in all ways since she married his son. It’s hitting her as hard as any of us, and she’ll be the one who will bear it all on strong shoulders. She is the strongest in our family and always has been. “Okay, Mama. I love you.” “Love you back, baby girl.” “I’m older than Larkin,” I point out. “Doesn’t matter. You’re all still my babies.” I roll my eyes at her sentimental mom crap, but deep down I love it. My mom makes me promise we’ll all do a family dinner tomorrow as Pap’s surgery would be the day after that. I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Mom also extended an invitation to Jake to come along, but I’m not sure if I’ll share that with him. That would bring this from casual to meaning something more very quickly, so I don’t make any promises. ♦ WHEN I WALK into Chesty’s fifteen minutes later, I’m almost bowled over to see the amount of people inside. It’s never this crowded at this time of the early evening, and I’m thinking that word of Pap’s cancer diagnosis has spread quickly. This is in no way shocking as that is how small towns operate. My eyes scan the crowd, and a distinct bubbling up of fondness for my community starts low in my belly. It looks like the entire town is here. The entire Mancinkus brood minus Mama are standing around Pap as he sits on his barstool. Colt, Trixie, Lowe, Larkin, and Daddy all have beers in hands. I don’t see Ry, which means he’s probably commuting back from Raleigh, but Mely is there with her arm around Lowe’s waist. And the resident county judge, Winston Bowe, sits beside Pap on what is typically Trixie’s stool, but I know she gave it up in deference to the esteemed judge who has on two occasions actually thrown her in jail for contempt. It’s all good sport between them, though.

I see Floyd from the hardware store, Billy from the grocery, and Jason from the gas station/wine shop. Della who owns the bookstore on the square and Pap’s crush, MaryMargaret. There’s Muriel who owns Central café, and Sissy from over at Lady Marmalade’s. All the business owners surrounding town square are here to show support to Pap. I find myself to be extremely touched, and I have one of those rare moments in my life where I am grateful Cam drove me away and back home. This is where I’m supposed to be because what more could I ever want than this? I push my way through the crowd, nodding at a few people. As I get closer to the bar and move my way around Floyd’s hulking form, my breath catches as I see Jake sitting on the barstool next to Judge Bowe. They’re having what appears to be an animated conversation, and I’m dying to know what it is about. But first things first. I nudge my way past Lowe and Mely and walk right up to Pap. He’s not one for overt physical affection and he prefers to show his love in the form of blunt advice on how you could be screwing your life up, but I don’t let that stop me. I put my arms around his shoulders and give him a hard hug. He awkwardly pats my arm while muttering to me, “There, there, Laken. It’s good. I’m good.” “Yeah, but I’m not,” I whisper in his ear. “But I’ll be brave for you.” When I pull away, he turns his head and I see pride in his eyes. “I know you will.” Pap then turns and yells out to Sam-Pete. “My granddaughter needs a beer.” Sam-Pete gives a chin lift of acknowledgment, and I give Pap a quick kiss on the cheek before I head for Jake. As I walk past Colt, he circles an arm around my neck, pulls me in, and kisses the top of my head. We siblings have never had a problem showing affection. Of course, we never had a problem beating the crap out of each other on occasion, too, but whatever. When Colt releases me, I make my way to Jake to find him standing from his stool to offer it to me. I didn’t know he realized I was here, but it also warms me to know he does. I take the seat and nod at Judge Bowe, “Evenin’.” He must see some of the tension and worry still etched on my face that I just can’t seem to get rid of, which causes him to lean toward me. “You keep that chin up. Your ol’ Pap is going to be just fine. He’s going to outlive everyone in this town.” I nod, another lump in my throat ignored, and lean forward to look past Judge Bowe to Pap. He’s telling an old story I’ve heard dozens of times about his days as a drill instructor for the Marine Corps. It involves a time when he had been on leave for a few weeks, and when he came back to Parris Island, he did so intentionally and in cahoots with his fellow drill instructors to become a plant in the crop of new recruits. He’d let his hair and

mustache grow out long and came in on the bus with a bunch of other young wannabe marines. For three days, he lived in the barracks and pretended to be a new recruit, and he intentionally kept screwing up. The drill instructors—who mind you were in on this plan —berated him ruthlessly in front of the other recruits. On day four, Pap was brought out in front of the entire platoon and was told that if he screwed up one more time, they were going to kill him. And, of course… he screwed up one more time according to plan. That night, the drill instructors came into the barracks in the dark of the night and woke up the entire platoon by banging their batons against tin garbage cans. They rounded up sleepy, disoriented recruits and marched them into the back alley that was only lit by the moonlight. They brought Pap along both blindfolded and with his hands cuffed behind his back. In front of the entire platoon, the drill instructors made it clear that they were tired of his screw-ups and it was time for him to die. They placed him in front of a wall, pulled out their pistols, and in the dark gloominess, they shot several rounds into Pap—which were obviously blanks. He collapsed to the ground with great dramatic effect while horrified recruits watched on. The drill instructors then calmly picked up Pap’s lifeless body and threw him into the nearest dumpster. They then marched the recruits back to bed, and there was no mistaking the fact that if you screwed up in the Marine Corps, well… they killed you. Pap chortled, and everyone laughed when he ended the story, “That was the bestbehaved platoon of recruits that we ever had.” I shake my head, not letting the smile come to my face that normally does when he tells that story. He was a rotten stinker, and he’s still that way today. Sam-Pete slides my beer in front of me but before I can even pick it up, Jake’s leaning into my space by putting an elbow on the bar top right by my beer, forcing me to look up at him. “You okay?” he asks. I turn and shoot another glance at Pap, who has launched into another story, before looking back to Jake. “I don’t know how he does that. Gets a cancer diagnosis and within a few hours, he’s drinking and laughing like nothing’s wrong.” “It’s how he’s coping,” Jake says. “We all do it differently.” “Well, I know that,” I say with just enough sarcasm that Jake laughs at me. “But it’s weird.” “All depends on how you look at it,” Jake says as he glances down the bar at Pap. “He’s eighty-one, had a hell of a life already, and he got a cancer diagnosis that isn’t great but it’s not the worst it could be. He feels he’s meant to tackle this head-on and with chin up.”

“How do you know that?” I ask curiously, my head tilting slightly to await his answer. “Because I was in here having a beer with him when he got the call from the doctor with the results. I sat beside him while he called your parents with the news, and asked them to impart it to the kids. And his exact words were, ‘I don’t want anyone worrying over this. It’s going to be fine. They’ll cut that bugger out, and I’ll be right as rain.’ Then he ordered another beer and bought me one, too.” This time as I’m shaking my head, the smile that comes to my face is filled with nothing but fondness and gratitude that I have a Pap who is so strong, so pragmatic, and so determined that I can’t help but believe in this moment that he’s going to beat this thing. I turn to look at him one more time past Judge Bowe, who is now engaged in an animated conversation with him about the Battle of Iwo Jima of all things. I want to talk to him and learn more details, but now isn’t the time. He’s in his element. He’s got practically the whole town here to rally for support around him and he’s eating it up. As well he should. “Why were you here having a beer with Pap?” I ask Jake, because that’s certainly odd. Jake shrugs. “Got my work finished, MG was fed and happy, and I thought I’d come into town to see you. Decided to just stop in here first, and we got to talking. Then the call came. I knew you’d be showing up sooner or later.” I make a humming sound of acknowledgment in my throat and take a sip from my beer. After I swallow, I decide to throw caution to the wind. Turning on my stool so I can look Jake in the face, I say, “My mom’s going to do a family dinner tomorrow night and she passed along an invitation to you.” “I know,” Jake says, and my eyebrows pop up high on my forehead. He laughs and says, “Your dad invited me when he got here a little bit ago.” “Oh,” I say distractedly as I look down at my beer. Why would Daddy do that unless he thought Jake and I were a couple, and why would he even think that? “You weren’t going to invite me at first, were you?” Jake asks, and my eyes snap back to his. He smirks when he sees the guilt in them. “Of course I was going to—” “No, you weren’t,” he cut me off. “I could see just moments ago when you made the decision to do it.” “Whatever,” I mutter and take another sip of beer. I feel like getting ridiculously drunk now. Then I tack on sulkily, “We’re not dating.” “Of course we’re not,” he says solicitously, but his eyes are crinkled with laughter. “But I can’t come tomorrow night.” My head pops up in surprise. “Why not?” And why do I suddenly feel let down?

Jake playfully chucks me under the chin with his knuckles. “Because Darby’s coming into town. It would be rude of me to leave her to fend for herself and go to dinner at your parents.” “Oh,” I say softly and turn back to my beer. “Yeah… that makes sense.” “Does that bother you?” Jake asks hesitantly. “Because one minute, you don’t seem to want me there and the next you do.” Gripping my beer mug hard by the handle, I turn to Jake and lay it out straight. “I am having a problem with letting you in close. It’s awkward for me to think of you at a family dinner, but I also sort of want you to do it. I’m struggling, Jake, so cut me some slack, okay?” He then shocks me by leaning in and kissing me hard on the mouth. No doubt everyone saw that and when he pulls back, his eyes are warm. “You’ll get used to me, Laken. I promise.” “I doubt it,” I mumble with an eyeroll. “Any aversion to me staying the night at your place tonight?” Jake’s mouth peels into a wide grin and his eyes twinkle with all kinds of naughty promise. “It’s either my house or yours. I told you the nights are mine.” “Yours,” I tell him before I take a long swallow of my beer. “I’ll go home and get Herman.” “He’s not allowed in the bathroom,” Jake reminds me, and I know the bruise on his hip is enough of a reminder. Jake hit the floor hard today when Herman ploughed into him. Laughing, I give my agreement. “He can stay in the hallway.”

CHAPTER 19

Jake

T

HE CRUNCHING OF tires on gravel gets my attention, and I pull my feet off the coffee

table. I’d made the farmhouse living room my makeshift office while I was here. MG has shown no signs of weaning herself from me, and frankly, I’ve gotten into a nice work routine here. In fact, I’d say that some days I accomplish more because I don’t have office distractions. When I get back to Chicago, I will definitely be reevaluating telecommuting strategies for all the executives and other higher-ups in the company. I put my laptop on the couch and push up. I’d offered to pick up Darby from the airport but she insisted on renting a car, wanting to have the freedom to explore as she pleased. By the time I make it out onto the front porch, I see a silver economy car pulling up beside my rental. The overhead sun reflects too much of a glare for me to see inside, but I can make out two people in the front and I wonder who Darby brought. My question is answered when the passenger door opens first, and Kelly steps out into the bright sunlight. She doesn’t see me at first, but rather does a slow scan around the farm to take it all in. Darby gets out of the driver’s side, and I trot down the front steps. I can’t help but smile at the differences in the sisters. Darby is tall and willowy. Almost ethereal looking. She’s got strawberry-blond hair, pale skin, and freckles galore. Kelly is blond, tan, and curvy in a sex kitten kind of way. She was definitely the sexiest professor I’d ever had the pleasure of learning from. Darby came dressed for work in jeans, boots, and a plaid shirt. Kelly looks like she walked off Rodeo Drive in one of those one-piece rompers made of silk that shows miles of leg and a strapless top. She’s decked out in jewelry and expertly applied makeup. Both women finally look over to me and matching smiles break out. They at least share the same dimples. I reach Darby first and pick her up in a big hug, lifting her a good foot off the ground despite how tall she is. It’s been almost six months since I’ve seen her and while I can see the determination in her eyes, I can also see she’s battling back from being beat down by her ass of a soon to be ex-husband. When I release her, Kelly steps into me and gives me a quick hug. Since we are now business colleagues more than anything, the physical affection between us has cooled significantly, although I will still always welcome a hug from her. But we are no longer spouses. Only friends and colleagues, and we’ve been fortunate we could settle into a normalized relationship that’s not clouded by past hurts.

“What are you doing here?” I ask Kelly, as this is a complete surprise. “Doug and I are going to take a quick weekend trip to the Keys, but he’s in New York and will be leaving from there. I thought I’d come here and check out your new farm with Darby before I flew on to meet him.” “Well, welcome then,” I tell her and make a mental calculation to see if there are clean sheets in the third guest bedroom upstairs since I’d only planned on Darby tonight. First order of business is getting their luggage inside. Both women only brought carryon cases because of their short stays, and after I deposit them in their rooms and ensure there were indeed fresh sheets, I give them the grand tour of the house. Of course, as women, they ooh and ahh over things like the claw-foot tub in the master and the wood burning stove in the living room. Next comes the tour of the barn and pastures that are close to the house. Both women get to meet the infamous Miss Goatikins, who necessitated my return to Whynot for the unknown future, and both make sure to give me hell about it. Then Darby strikes out on her own to hike out toward the acres we’d marked for the future orchard. She came prepared to take soil samples. It’s almost time for MG’s noon feeding so I work on putting the bottle together. Kelly watches me with a smirk on her face as I efficiently mix the powdered formula. When I pick MG up, Kelly laughs with delight. “I can’t believe big, bad Jake McDaniel has a baby goat.” “Shut up,” I say affectionately as I watch MG work the nipple. Kelly’s silent for just a moment, but then she says, “You know… I think you’re actually suited to farm life.” I look up at her in surprise. “What makes you say that?” “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look more relaxed in your life,” she observes. “I mean… you’re still super productive and are running the company fine from here, but you also look like you’re on vacation, too. There’s no tension or worry lines marring that handsome face. You look loose and comfortable here. Hell, even those jeans you’re wearing look better on you than your custom suits.” I think about this for a moment, and I realize… yes, country life isn’t so bad. I miss some of the conveniences of a city and the shopping and dining, but for the most part, I do feel more relaxed out here. My mind also turns automatically to Laken, and I wonder how much of this contentment that Kelly is noticing has anything to do with the fact I’m seriously becoming crazy about Laken. It’s only been a few weeks, but I know she is someone I could build something solid with if she felt the same way. “Who is she?” Kelly asks out of the blue, and my eyes lock onto hers. “Who?” I ask right back, playing it up dumb. But she has me busted. Kelly knows me better than any other woman except perhaps my mother.

“Give it up, McD,” she says as she gives me a light punch in the arm. “I know there’s something up and my money is on a woman.” I consider lying to her but then figure… why should I? Laken is nothing to be ashamed of, and I know Kelly wants me to find happiness just the way she seems to have with Doug. “Her name’s Laken, and she’s the local veterinarian,” I say as I continue to feed MG. “We’ve been seeing each other, but it’s a bit complicated.” “How?” Kelly asks. “Well, she has a life and a business here. Mine is in Chicago.” “Yours is here right now,” Kelly points out. “It doesn’t have to be based in Chicago.” “You know as well as I do,” I counter-argue, “that telecommuting is fine for a bit, but I will have to be in Chicago for a lot of the meetings on any given week.” “Plenty of people make it work,” she says with a shrug. “Or maybe she could be a vet in the big city.” I shake my head. “Yeah… I don’t think that’s an option, and besides… it’s way too early to even be thinking about that stuff. We’ve only been seeing each other a few weeks.” “But you’re into her,” Kelly says with a confident gleam in her eyes. “I can tell.” “Totally into her,” I concede. “Not sure it’s reciprocated the same.” “Ouch,” Kelly murmurs with a wince. “I’m sorry.” “Don’t be,” I tell her with a smile just as MG pulls her mouth from the nipple and gives a tiny bleat. Kelly laughs and asks, “Can I feed her? She’s so cute.” I shake my head. “She won’t eat from anyone but me. That’s why I’m here.” “Just let me try,” she insists as she holds her arms out. “You know I can’t resist a challenge.” “You do realize most of the challenges you kicked ass on were in the field of academia, not farming, right?” I mutter, but I hand MG over to Kelly all the same. When she’s holding her properly with one arm running under MG’s stomach to keep her upright, I hand the bottle to Kelly. She pushes it toward MG’s mouth, and I have my smirk ready to go for when MG will start crying out to come back to her daddy. But to my utter shock, Kelly is the one smirking as MG latches onto the bottle and starts drinking. “What the hell?” I say in astonishment, and then move closer to watch. MG’s little tail is swishing wildly and she’s gulping down the milk without a care in the world.

“Looks like I’ve got skills,” Kelly says smugly as she watches the little goat with amusement. “Carlos,” I call out, knowing he’s somewhere close by and should be able to hear me. He comes jogging in and looks at me expectantly. “Come over here and try to feed MG.” He does as requested, easily taking MG from Kelly’s arms. When he takes the bottle to hold it toward MG’s mouth, she hesitates for only a moment before extending her neck and latching onto it. “She’s doing it,” Carlos says exuberantly. “It appears she’s decided to grow up,” I mutter, and oddly find myself feeling a little sad that the apron string has apparently been cut. “Why don’t you take her into the pasture with the dam?” I suggest to Carlos. “See if she’ll nurse.” “Si,” he answers and walks out with Miss Goatikins still happily slurping at the bottle. “So what’s her hang-up?” Kelly asks curiously, and it takes me no time to realize she’s turned the conversation back to Laken. “Bad relationship with a rich city guy who promised her the world and then yanked it out from under her,” I say, summarizing Laken’s crappy relationship with Dr. Jackass. “Well, she’ll have to get it over it.” Kelly states the obvious, but that doesn’t mean it’s going to happen. Some people never get over hurts. “What do you think I should do? Push at her or sit back and see what happens?” Kelly’s eyes turn soft and she steps into me, putting a hand on my waist to give me a slight squeeze. Her other hand goes to my chest, and she looks up at me with earnest eyes. “I don’t know this woman, Jake, but I’m going to give her the benefit of the doubt and say she must be amazing to have you be so into her. I do, however, know you and you’ve never sat back and waited for anything in your life. You’ve always gone for what you wanted, and you do it with headstrong determination. It’s made you a very successful man, so I’m thinking you should stick with a formula you know.” Because we’re out of the office and nowhere near a board room, I feel comfortable in reaching out to put my hand on Kelly’s cheek. I do this because I have a rush of deep affection for her. “You’re an amazing woman, Kelly. You know I’ll always listen to what you have to say.” She brings her free hand up, locks it around my wrist, and gives me a return squeeze of fondness. “You should. I’m pretty damn smart.” I start to laugh but then movement at the barn door catches my eye. I look over Kelly’s head and see Laken standing there, her eyes narrowed on Kelly and me. Now to me… it’s nothing more than two friends sharing a close confidence with each other. Two friends who have been far more than friends together, so it’s not unnatural to show physical affection although we don’t do it a lot.

To Laken, I imagine she sees something quite different. A man… her man… standing close to a beautiful woman. Her hand on his waist, his hand on her cheek, and her other hand wrapped around his wrist to hold him there close for a moment. If she heard our last words exchanged, that probably didn’t sound good either. I step back from Kelly to break our contact, but Laken’s already spinning around on her heel. I only catch a glimpse of the fury on her face before she’s gone from sight. “Crap,” I mutter as I push past Kelly. “Be right back.” By the time I make it out of the barn, I see Laken half walking-half running to her truck. Her arms are locked straight, hands curled into fists and swinging violently to propel her forward. But I’m a former professional football player and I beat her to her truck, my hand going to her elbow to spin her around to face me. “Get your hands—” is all she gets out before I put my mouth on hers for a hard, deep kiss that shuts her right up. Her hands push at my chest, but I hold her to me tighter. I kiss her slower, gently probing her mouth with my tongue, scraping my teeth on her lower lip. When I feel her loosen in my hold, I pull back to tell her, “That’s not what you think it is.” “That wasn’t you and another woman with your hands all over each other and you telling her she’s amazing?” Laken asks as she crosses her arms over her chest. “Well, yes… that was that,” I admit. “But that’s just Kelly. My ex-wife.” Laken’s eyes narrow at me. “That’s not helping, Jake.” Taking a deep breath, I let it out. I put my hands on Laken’s shoulders and bend down to peer at her. “Just listen, okay?” Reluctantly, she gives me a nod. “Kelly and I were married for almost ten years,” I tell her, and Laken actually flinches from that fact. “But we ended up divorcing because I want kids and she doesn’t. It was something we really didn’t spend the right amount of time talking about in those first formative years, and then we got sucked up in building my business. Kelly is my chief operations officer. When we finally had the maturity to really discuss it, we just realized we wanted totally different things in life. Our divorce was amicable, and Kelly is still a dear friend and colleague of mine. What you saw back there was nothing more than friendship and fondness. We were talking about you, actually.” “Me?” Laken blurts out. “Why me?” “Because Kelly apparently took one look at me and knew there was a woman in my life, and she harassed me like only a woman can do to get the details. So I told her about you.” “And what exactly did you say?” Laken says, her words coated with a tinge of frost. “I told her I was into you, but that I didn’t think you felt quite the same,” I tell her honestly, and Laken winces, which means there’s a ton of truth in that supposition.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs, her eyes dropping. “Don’t be,” I say as I take her chin and force her gaze back up to mine. “It’s who you are, but it doesn’t mean it’s who you will always be. Besides… Kelly reminded me I’m a determined man who always goes for what he wants. I’m not giving up on you just yet.” To my surprise, Laken steps into me and puts her hands on my chest. Her eyes are earnest and her voice somber. “I’m not sure I’m worth the effort. I don’t know that I can be what you want.” My hands wrap around her wrists. I pull her hands up to my face and playfully bite on the pad of her index finger. “You think too much, Laken. Just relax and enjoy this and let’s see where it will go.” I’m rewarded with Laken’s body almost deflating in capitulation as she nods. “Okay. We’re just enjoying. Seeing where it goes.” Leaning into her, I brush my lips over hers. “I’m going to miss you tonight.” With Laken doing the family dinner thing before Pap’s surgery tomorrow and me having guests, I won’t be spending the night with Laken, which is the first time in over a week we haven’t slept together. Damn if I’m not going to miss the hell out of her, not just because of the sex, but just because I’ve become all too fond of having her body wrapped around mine all night. There’s something very sweet and it says a lot that Laken is a nighttime cuddler. “Okay… I’m going to head out of here,” she says as she starts to pull away. “Would you like to come and meet Kelly?” I ask her before I fully let her go. “Darby’s around here somewhere, too.” Laken just cocks her eyebrow up. “Maybe some other time,” I mutter, and then give her another kiss before I let her go. But then I remember to ask, “By the way, what did you come by for?” “I stopped by the farm supply store today to pick you up some supplements, but they were out of stock,” she mumbles, stuttering over her words. I grin. “If they were out of stock, why did you come over?” “Um… just to tell you that, I guess,” she mutters. “You came over to see me,” I taunt. “You missed me and you came over to see me.” “And I found you with another woman all over you,” she snaps back at me. My grin widens. “I like jealousy on you, Laken. That means you feel something for me.” “Bite me, Jake,” she grumbles and then pulls away from me to jump in her truck. I’m still grinning as I watch her truck travel back down the gravel lane to the main road.

“So that was Laken, huh?” Kelly says as she comes to stand beside me. I look down at my ex-wife. “That was Laken.” She gives a low whistle of sympathy, indicating she totally eavesdropped on our conversation. “You’ve got your work cut out for you, buddy.” “That I do,” I murmur back as my eyes stay pinned on Laken’s truck until it makes its way around a curve and I can’t see it anymore.

CHAPTER 20

Laken

I

SQUARE MY shoulders, take a deep breath, and open the door to Central Cafe. Jake had

called me early this morning and asked if I’d meet him and Darby for breakfast there before I opened the clinic. He was going to be taking her to Raleigh after to catch a flight back to Illinois. Kelly had left the day before to meet her boyfriend in the Keys and had taken the rental car to the airport, which is why Jake had to drive Darby to Raleigh for her flight. I haven’t seen Jake since I walked in on the intimate moment with him and Kelly two days ago. And when I say intimate, I do know their relationship is nothing but friends now. But they are close friends and they still share a bond, and damn if that didn’t make me insanely jealous. It forced me to admit, finally, I might actually be dating Jake contrary to how much I deny that, and I really felt a bit foolish. That’s not why I haven’t seen him though. That night I’d had a family dinner and he had Kelly and Darby to entertain. The next day was Pap’s surgery, and I spent most of the afternoon and early evening at the hospital. By the time I was being shooed out of the hospital along with the rest of the family, I wanted nothing but my dog and my bed. That was nothing against Jake, but I was just so exhausted I didn’t have anything to give at all. Jake, because he’s Jake and is wonderful, totally understood. Pap’s surgery went well. Actually very well considering he’s eighty-one. Sure, he’s in decent shape for his age, but going under the knife for a major operation and anesthesia is no joking matter. We were all a bundle of nerves while he was in surgery, and it wasn’t until the surgeon came out to tell us that it went very well that we were able to breathe a tiny sigh of relief. Jake had texted me throughout that afternoon to check in and see how things were going. He offered to come up to the hospital, but I put him off. I did this because I was afraid that if I saw him, it would be too apparent how much I really wanted and needed him there, and I wasn’t ready to admit that to myself, much less to my family and Jake. So I put him off and he respected that, although he kept close tabs on the situation. He called me just before I was ready to crash that night in my bed with Herman, and only to wish me a good, restful sleep. It was sweet. So damn sweet it made my chest ache. When Jake asked me to breakfast this morning, regardless if there was going to be another person there with us, I was just beyond ready to see him. The two days we’d been apart were decidedly lacking for me. I felt it down to my bones, and it made me realize that Jake is something special I’d come to crave and perhaps depend upon.

His wit and humor. His care and sweetness. His hotness. Oh, man… his hotness. His confidence in not only himself, but those around him. He’s an affirming man, and he makes you feel good about yourself. Yes, I’d come to realize that Jake was unlike any other man I’d ever been with. Frankly, it scared the hell out of me. It also gives me a thrill of excitement as I step inside Central Cafe and lock eyes on him. He’s sitting at a table with a woman, but I don’t even spare her a glance. I can only watch when he stands from the table as I approach, holding a hand out to me. His smile is warm, welcoming, and wistful. His eyes tell me not only that he’s missed me the past two days, but also that he appreciates very much what he’s looking at right now. When I put my palm against his, he pulls me to him for a soft kiss that makes my cheeks heat up over his public display of affection, yet I wouldn’t trade that kiss for the world. “Laken… this is my sister-in-law Darby,” Jake says as he nods down at the table. I manage to tear my eyes away from Jake to take in Darby Culhane. She looks nothing like her sister, but what I see on that sincere freckled face and within the light blue eyes I find I like immediately. Darby smiles and holds a hand out. “Well, technically I’m the ex-sister-in-law, but semantics.” “I was going to call you my annoying-ex-sister-in-law-who-is-like-a-little-sister, but it takes too long to say,” Jake grumbles as Darby and I shake hands. “It’s a complicated relationship,” Darby says as she releases my hand. I slide into a chair that Jake pulls out for me. “Who would have thought two people could get a divorce and still be such good friends?” “It’s kind of strange,” I admit. “Divorce is supposed to be ugly and brutal with divisive lines. Or so I’ve seen on TV.” Both Darby and Jake laugh, which is a fortuitous time for Muriel to come over and pour me some coffee. Darby and Jake already have full cups. “Know what y’all want?” Muriel says without even pulling her pad out to write down our orders. She’s got a mind like a steel trap, and if she were to get your order wrong by some chance, all the food is so good you wouldn’t really complain. We each give her our orders and she promises them in a jiffy. After I doctor up my coffee, I take a grateful sip before looking at Darby. “So… you’re going to be moving here in a few weeks?” She nods, her eyes flashing with excitement. “I’m really ready for this change in my life. And Jake’s been so damn wonderful buying this farm so I can work toward my thesis. I feel like I’m in a dream.”

My eyes cut to Jake, and I’m surprised to see his cheeks redden as he takes a sip of coffee himself. And then it really, fully, truly hits me what Jake has done. He didn’t buy this farm for a tax write-off. That’s just a side benefit. He bought a freaking farm for his ex-sister-in-law so she could make a better life for herself. Jake glances at me over the rim of his cup, and I can see it in his eyes. He knows that I know what a good guy he is, and his sheepish grin tells me it slightly embarrasses him. So I give him a pass and turn back to Darby. It was important to Jake that I meet her today, and I think he wants Darby to have some connection here, especially since Jake won’t be here forever. The thought of him leaving makes my stomach cramp slightly, but I can’t think about that now. He’s given no indication that is going to happen anytime soon, so I need to put it out of my mind. “Jake says you have a daughter,” I say to make conversation. Darby nods and the smile on her face tells me everything. She’s a mother in absolute love with her daughter, and that daughter would be the most important thing in the world to her. “Linnie. She’s three and a half, and she’s amazing. Bright. Funny. Has her aunt Kelly’s snark, and she’s just such a good kid. I’m really excited to get her down here and away from…” Darby’s words trail off, and I can only imagine what she was going to say. Jake didn’t tell me much other than Darby’s soon to be ex-husband was not a nice guy, so I assume she means from him. That’s very personal, though, and Darby catches herself. She shakes her head and gives me a sheepish grin. “Listen to me rambling on. Jake’s told me a lot about you. Your family has the other big farm in the area, right?” “Mainer Farms,” I tell her proudly. “Eighth generation farmers.” “I’d love to see it sometime,” she says wistfully. “I grew up on a large commercial farm in Iowa. A lot different and very mechanized. But that’s where I got my love for crop sciences.” “Maybe I can get my brother Colt to give you a tour when you come back,” I say to open up some conversation about the grant. “He’s the only one of my siblings who works the farm with my parents. He does a good chunk of it actually.” Darby’s face flushes, and I can tell by that look Jake has definitely told her about Colt being upset about the grant. I love my family. They mean more to me than anything, and the success of our farm is important to me. Colt is even more important to me. But I also need to let Darby know my position on the matter so she isn’t uncomfortable.

“Darby,” I say softly, and her eyes lock onto mine across the table. “That grant is available to any farm in this county. There is nothing that says you can’t go after it. Just because my brother is bent out of shape doesn’t mean I am.” “I don’t want to cause any bad feelings,” Darby says in a rush. “Especially because of you and Jake… and well, you know… you two are… um…” “Dating,” Jake says emphatically, and to my surprise, I don’t even have the desire to correct him. I don’t look at him, though, and just nod to Darby so she gets it all out. “But this grant is crucial to my thesis and my resume. I want to apply to a huge crop sciences research corporation here and part of working in R&D is in applying for grants. I know that seems to put my personal needs above your family’s, but—” “It doesn’t matter,” I cut her off. “Like I said, that grant is there for anyone to apply for. If you need to do it, you do it. Colt will just have to live with it, and he’ll just have to try harder to get it.” Darby gives me an appreciative nod, and Jake’s hand slides under the table to grip my thigh in a squeeze of gratitude. I don’t dare look at him as I might feel compelled to slump over until my lips mash against his. We spend the rest of breakfast talking about Darby’s move, and she and I exchange phone numbers. I assure her she can call me for anything, and we make tentative plans to get together when she returns. Jake pays our bill when he says it’s time for them to hit the road, and we all walk out of Central Cafe together. Jake’s rental is parked parallel on the street just half a block down. I walk with them, and I don’t shirk away when Jake takes my hand in his. He opens the door for Darby. When she settles herself into the passenger seat, he closes it gently. I take a step back, but he’s having none of it, his hands going to my waist to pull me close to him. “Can I see you tonight?” he asks as his eyes bore into mine, and I know the need in them is probably mirroring my own. It’s been a long two days without. “Of course,” I tell him, and lean in to give him a sendoff kiss so he can get to the airport. Instead, his hands move to my shoulders to hold me slightly away from him. My head tilts in question. “Pap still getting out of the hospital tomorrow?” Jake asks. “Yeah… that’s the plan,” I confirm. Pap has done amazing since the surgery and his “innards all seem to be working fine” is what he told Mama last night. She then relayed it to us kids. Jake nods, looks down the street for a moment, and then back to me. “I know you’ll want to do some visiting with him.”

I just nod at him, because he’s being a little weird right now and I’m not sure what he wants me to say. “I’ve got to go back to Chicago on Sunday,” he says, and I’m not prepared for the crushing feeling that takes root in the center of my chest, because I can hear it in his voice. He means he’s going back for good. “But… Miss Goatikins,” I stammer, because she’s my only real hope of keeping him here. “Things have been so busy with Kelly and Darby being here, and Pap’s surgery, that I didn’t get to tell you. MG’s eating from Carlos as well as nursing a little from her dam.” “That’s great,” I say with a plastic smile, cringing internally as I hope Jake doesn’t notice how fake that sounds even to myself. Jake nods distractedly, and I can tell his mind is far away from his little goat. He slides his hands from my shoulders up my neck to frame my face. “I don’t know when I’ll be back. Darby will be here in two weeks, Carlos is doing fine, and well… MG doesn’t need me.” I bite down on my tongue so I don’t scream, But I need you. And oh, God. This is it. It’s goodbye. “Will you come to Chicago to see me next weekend?” Jake says, and I jerk in surprise by the invitation as I obviously wasn’t expecting it. “You want me to come to Chicago?” “Yes,” he says with a smile. “You can get some big city that you love, and we can maybe catch a baseball game or something.” My gaze falls to the sidewalk, and I stare at my work boots and Jake’s fancy loafers standing almost toe to toe. “What’s the problem, Laken?” Jake asks, and I’m forced to look up to him to answer. “You want to still see each other?” Jake digs his teeth down into his lower lip for a moment, then says, “I like you, Laken. I’m not ready for this to end, and I thought maybe we could see each other long distance. You could come up to me some weekends, and I could come down here. I have no clue if it’s workable, but I’d like to try.” My mind starts trying to filter through every single reason why I should say no, and I can’t think of a single one. I like Jake. I do want to continue to see him. I think I could get crazy about him too, as long as we continue to take things slowly and I can continue to build trust. “I couldn’t come a lot,” I point out. “I’m not made of gold like you, so I can’t afford too many plane trips there.” Jake grins at me. “I’ll buy your plane tickets so that’s not a problem.”

I don’t smile back. “Actually… it is a problem. If you want me to come to you, then I’ll pay for my own fare.” No way am I going to fall back into a trap where some man snookers me with trips and jewelry and other luxuries. That’s not been an issue here because Jake’s been just like a regular farmer dude while he’s been here. He’s going back to a lifestyle that I know a little about and don’t trust at all. “Okay,” he says with a nod. “You pay for your ticket. But I’m paying for everything else because it’s a date weekend and that’s just the old-fashioned way I roll.” “Fine,” I say with a smirk. “Then I’ll come this weekend. I have to change a few appointments, but they were just routine exams I can put off to the following weekend.” “Awesome,” Jake says, and this time his smile is blinding. He pulls me in and my mouth touches his for the softest, sweetest kiss he’s ever bestowed on me. When we break apart, he murmurs, “That makes me very happy.” “It makes me happy, too,” I tell him honestly.

CHAPTER 21

Pap

F

IGURES.

No sooner do I get settled in my recliner so I can watch Live with Kelly and Ryan— which is nowhere as good as Live with Kelly and Michael—there’s a knock on my door. I’m still sore from the surgery a week ago, but I don’t want anyone to know that, so rather than just yelling, “Come in,” I push out of the chair to see who’s visiting now. I love my family. But I also want them to leave me alone for a bit. This past week I’ve been swarmed by them all feeling the need to come babysit Pap, and this old man doesn’t need to be coddled or treated like a child. So I’m a bit cantankerous when I pull the door open and say, “What?” Laken stands there, her hand raised to perhaps knock again. She levels me with a big, sassy grin and says, “You’re awful cheerful this morning.” I growl under my breath, but she’s undaunted, walking right past me into my apartment. I close the door and lay it out straight so hopefully this will be a short visit. Kelly and Ryan are waiting for me. “I’m fine. Have all my energy back. A little sore, but nothing that can’t be knocked out with a few Ibuprofen, but I’m too tough and ornery to even take them. So I don’t need you checking up on me, and I don’t need anything.” I say all of this to her back because she ignores me as she heads to the couch. She sits on the edge, folds her hands over her knees, and says, “I’m not here to check up on you.” “You’re not?” I ask suspiciously as I ease myself down into the recliner. I do an admirable job of holding back the slight wince as there’s still a pinching pain where they cut into me to remove ten centimeters of my colon. She shakes her head. “I talked to Lowe and Mely yesterday. They told me they came to see you and you said the same exact thing, so I figured you’re fine.” I narrow my eyes at her even more. This sounds way too easy and there must be an ulterior motive. “Then what are you doing here?” Without hesitation, Laken says, “I need your advice.” I blink in surprise, not because one of my grandkids needs advice. They need advice all the time, and I impart it to them without any invitation. I am surprised that she’s asking for it as Laken is the headstrong one in the family who always finds her own way on her own timeline.

I’m also surprised she’s coming to me. I’m no fool, and I know her wanting advice has to do with Jake. I’m not sure why she’s sitting here rather than at her twin sister’s. “Why me?” My curiosity is dying to know. She rolls her eyes at me, and I’m not sure if I like the truthfulness of her answer. “Because you’re older than Methuselah which means you have the most wisdom in this family.” I let that pass because it’s a legitimate statement and I’ve never ever tried to curb my grandkids’ sass and snark. They get it honestly from me. “Lay it on me,” I tell her as I settle back and kick up the footrest on my recliner. Laken leans forward, her hands clenching tight. “Okay… so as you know, Jake went back to Chicago for good as he’s not needed at the farm anymore.” I nod. “He came to say goodbye.” Laken gets a wistful smile of appreciation on her face, which tells me plenty. She’s utterly charmed that he would come say farewell to her old pap. But then she shakes her head as if to clear it and continues. “I’m on my way to go visit him for the weekend. He wants to try to date long distance.” “Sounds like a legitimate plan.” I knew that boy was crazy about my Laken, so this doesn’t surprise me. “But does it?” she asks me almost aggressively. “He lives in Chicago. He runs a corporation from there. I have a business in the middle of nowhere. Our lives couldn’t be more different, so what’s the point of this?” I blink in surprise at Laken, because she’s never once in the thirty years I’ve known this child ever sounded so pessimistic. Sure, she can be stubborn, headstrong, closed off at times, and unpredictable. But she’s always met challenges head-on and chin up. She may be scared on the inside, but I’ve never seen anything shining from her eyes but hope for the best. “The point is,” I tell her gently, “that you continue to see if there’s something strong enough that will push you closer together.” “Or it will prove we don’t have what it takes to make it,” she says glumly. “There’s that,” I agree. “But since when do you shy away from a risk like that?” I don’t know what happened to my spitfire Laken Mancinkus somewhere in her past, but the shadow that falls across her face tells me that something significant happened to make her feel vulnerable and unsure of herself when it comes to Jake and the distance between them. There’s no sense in asking her about it because it’s clearly personal, but I go about it in another way. “What do you want out of life?” She blinks at me. “Huh?”

“What are your long-term goals?” Her brows furrow inward, and it’s like the child has never once considered her future. How that can be at thirty years of age is beyond me, but then she says, “I want what every Mancinkus wants.” My lips curl up, because she’s getting somewhere fast. “Go on.” “We’re all about family. I want that one day. A family of my own. And I want it with someone I can trust and who will respect me for me. I want it with someone who drives me crazy in a good way.” “And where do you want that to happen?” I ask. Again, her brow furrows. “I think I want it here.” “You didn’t always,” I take a guess. Because Laken didn’t come home right away after veterinary school. She stayed in Raleigh at some big fancy practice for a few years. “The big city isn’t all it’s cracked up to be for me.” Her voice is hollow and defeated, but I know her knocking big city life isn’t what this is all about. “Cities are just a location. You can have a family anywhere.” “Maybe,” is all she says as her gaze drops to her hands. “It doesn’t matter where you are,” I say, and her eyes come back to me filled with desperation for the right answer. I’m not sure if it’s right, but I give her the advice she originally asked for. “As long as you’re with the right person, and that is something you will know in your gut. If you don’t know it in your gut, then he’s not the right person.” It’s fascinating but I see both relief and fear in her eyes, and I suspect it’s because I just told her exactly what she wanted to know, what she already knew her in heart, and still didn’t have a clue how to take the risk to see if there’s a reward. So I offer one more piece of advice. “Just take it day by day and see where it goes. You don’t have to have the exact answer right now.”

CHAPTER 22

Jake

I

UNLOCK THE door to my condo and push it open for Laken to precede me in. I carry her

suitcase and note that my hands are sweating from nerves. Nervous because I see my condo exactly the way Laken must be seeing it right now. Before it was a source of pride and a measure of my success. Expensive hardwoods, sleek high-end appliances, and elegant furniture. A view of the city that many would kill for. But I’m worried Laken is seeing nothing but the type of life that was ripped away from her when she was in love with a guy who probably had a similar standard of living that I do. Will she remember I’m still just the same Jake McDaniel who rearranged my business life so I could return to Whynot and nurse a baby goat several times a day? “It’s beautiful,” Laken murmurs as she moves to the living room balcony. She doesn’t step outside but just looks over the city. Setting the suitcase down, I decide not to let my worries ruin the weekend and give Laken the benefit of the doubt. She said she wouldn’t compare me to Dr. Jackass, and I’m going to have to assume that still holds true. I step up behind her and she sinks into me as I wrap my arms around her waist. “I’m glad you came,” I murmur. “Even if we do nothing but stand right here, I’m a happy camper.” Laken laughs and turns in my arms. She links her hands behind my neck and smiles up at me. “I think we can come up with some better things to do.” “Well, yeah,” I drawl like she’s the one being obtuse. “Totally tons of other fun stuff. Much of it we could do right in my bedroom down that hall.” “Now that sounds like an excellent plan,” Laken practically purrs, and my skin seems to tighten all over with need for her. “But I have reservations for us at this fancy-schmancy restaurant that I wanted to impress you with,” I tell her, but by the tone of my voice, she can tell I think the idea that we head to my bedroom is way better. “Do you have food in your refrigerator?” she asks. “Probably. I think so. I have someone who cooks for me each week.” “Lifestyles of the rich and famous,” she mutters, but her smile doesn’t lessen. “Let’s stay in tonight. It’s been a long week, I just flew in, and I’d kill to just chill with you.”

“And by chill, you mean sex, right?” I ask with a grin. “Yes, that’s what I mean,” she says drolly. “Let’s go do that first,” I say as I take her by the hand and start dragging her toward my bedroom. “Then we’ll eat.” I’m rewarded with Laken’s husky, sexy laugh behind me all the way. ♦ “THIS ISN’T BAD,” Laken says as she takes a bite of the rice pilaf. She has on one of my white undershirts and her hair is a tangled mess. Sitting crosslegged on one of my dining room chairs, she looks casual and sexy and like she was made to live in this condo with me. “Helen has a way with food,” I say after I swallow a bite of honey-Dijon chicken. “I wish I had someone to cook for me,” Laken muses as she waves her fork at me. “Fruit Loops get so boring after a while.” “Come visit me more often and you’ll get to enjoy Helen’s food,” I quip right back. Stabbing the fork in the air at me, her expression turns smug. “You’re addicted to me, aren’t you?” “Quite possibly,” I tell her honestly, because this past week while I’ve been here in Chicago and she’s been back in North Carolina, I’ve only thought of her about a thousand times a day. My revelation causes Laken’s cheeks to turn pink and her eyes to lower bashfully. I’m sitting across the table from her so I can’t just reach out and make her look at me. So I tease her instead to get her attention. “Surely that admission didn’t make confident, take-no-prisoners Laken Mancinkus uncomfortable?” Her eyes snap back to mine and there’s fire in them now. “Of course not.” “It’s not like I asked you to marry me,” I continue teasing her. “And I’d say no if you did,” she huffs. “I mean… I’m completely fine with just having sex all the time,” I offer. “Exactly,” she says as she puts her fork down and stands up from her chair. “In fact, let’s go right now and reestablish the way things are.” Laughing, I push out of my chair, round the table, and sweep Laken up into my arms. She grumbles and huffs, pushing uselessly at my chest as I dump her over the back of the couch. I then hop over and lower myself down onto her. She’s trapped beneath me and looking totally affronted. Bending down, I kiss her nose. “You’re cute and so easy to rile up.” “I’m not riled up,” she sniffs.

“Laken… you know this isn’t casual anymore so why don’t you just fess up and admit you might be addicted to me, too? It would make things a lot easier if you quit fighting this.” “Fighting what?” she tosses back at me with a tiny snarl of frustration. “You live in Chicago. I live way far away from Chicago. Our lives are so different, and I don’t want a long-distance relationship.” This surprises me enough that I push up slightly so I can see her better. “Laken… baby… this is new. This is all we can do right now. It’s either go our separate ways or take the bits of time that we can have together.” “I know,” she snaps angrily, but just as quickly she sucks in a deep breath before letting it out slowly. Her voice is calmer and apologetic. “I know. I’m just… this is just discombobulating for me. I shut myself off so tight to the possibility of any relationship because I didn’t want to be hurt again.” “You said you wouldn’t compare me to him,” I can’t help to point out. She shakes her head. “I’m not comparing you to him. It’s not about the similarities you have but really about the differences.” “We can work around the distance issue,” I tell her confidently. Laken pushes her hands against my chest, and I sit up to give her some space. She pulls herself up into a sitting position on the couch, coming to her knees so we’re face to face. “You want children one day, right?” This takes me by such surprise I can’t actually answer for a moment. My head is nodding before the words come out. “Yes. Of course.” “You told me that’s the reason you and Kelly divorced,” she adds. “So I know it’s important to you.” “Very important.” Her eyes soften, and she reaches out to touch my collarbone. “I’ve come to realize lately that it’s really important to me, too.” “Why just lately?” I ask out of curiosity. “Pap,” she says simply. “Frailty of life making you look harder at things,” I surmise. “Something like that,” she murmurs and inches a little closer to me. “And you know what I realized?” “What’s that?” “That I was never supposed to be in Raleigh in a fancy downtown apartment married to a rich veterinarian. I’m supposed to be in Whynot, running a dinky little vet practice and surrounded by my crazy family. It’s my home, and when I envision having kids and a family of my own, I want to be able to take them to my Mama’s for Sunday dinner, and let

Pap take them out fishing because I know he’ll probably live to be a hundred. Even if I don’t have kids, I still want to be at Mama’s for Sunday dinner and fishing with Pap and figuring out why Mrs. Gandry’s cows are constipated.” I don’t know whether to be worried over her sudden proclamation that she’s a smalltown girl down to her bone marrow or be charmed by it. Both, I guess. “It sounds like you’ve figured out who you are,” I tell her softly. “That’s a big deal, Laken.” “And I’m afraid that you and I making trips back and forth are all for naught,” she says glumly. “Because I honestly don’t see how that fits into what I want now.” “Maybe there’s room for compromise,” I suggest. “Maybe,” she concedes. “But I just had to let you know what I was thinking at this point. And I don’t ever want to hear you say I’m comparing you to Dr. Jackass. That’s not the case. I’m just wondering if we’re on the wrong track by trying to make something work between us that can’t.” “What’s the alternative?” I ask, genuinely curious as to how far she’s gotten in her thinking, because frankly… I’d only made it as far as the fact we could make a longdistance dating relationship work. But she’s jumped ahead to kids and putting down roots. This doesn’t scare me or put me off, but it does make me realize that maybe we do need to think about things a little harder before we go any further. It was a major mistake that Kelly and I made by not doing so. “I think we have a few options,” she says, and I can tell she’s been thinking about it very hard. “We go our separate ways.” “Not an option,” I growl. She smiles at me just before leaning forward to brush her mouth against mine. I know within that movement she’s saying it’s not an option for her either at this point. “We can move forward and see how things progress, knowing tough decisions might need to be made,” she says with a worried look on her face. It’s obvious she’s dubious about this, but isn’t willing to give up the fight just yet. “Or we just agree this is casual and it’s never going to be anything more than casual.” Yeah, that last one isn’t an option for me either. “I vote we just take this day by day and see how things progress,” I suggest as I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her into me. “We may be worrying about answers to problems that we don’t even have right now.” “I know,” she says softly and presses her face into my neck. “But you’ve went and made me like you so now you’re going to have to deal with some minor irrational fears.”

Chuckling, I give her a squeeze. “Well, I have the perfect solution to taking your mind off things for a little bit.” Her head pops up and with her lower lip stuck between her teeth, she gives an appreciative hum in the back of her throat. That lets me know she is thinking the same thing I am. Back to the bedroom where there’s no doubt we are perfectly matched.

CHAPTER 23

Laken

“T

HE HOUSE IS really starting to come together,” I tell Mely as she takes us through the

upstairs bedrooms that are complete with fresh paint, draperies, and bedding. She and my brother Lowe have been working hard to finish the remodel that Mely started after she bought our family’s historical home, Mainer House. She and Lowe clashed over it at first, necessitating Judge Bowe to step in and set them straight, which means he threatened to throw them both in jail. He must have seen something that no one else saw because they got married in Vegas two months ago and they are beyond perfect for each other. “What are you going to do when you finish Mainer House?” Trixie asks Mely as we walk back down the stairs. The question doesn’t get answered because the front door opens and Lowe walks in. Mely stops halfway down the staircase and Lowe freezes just inside the foyer, both looking at each other with such intensity my face gets hot. Larkin—who is standing behind me—gives a soft sigh of romantic appreciation. One would expect Mely to run down the stairs and throw herself in Lowe’s arms, wishing him a warm welcome home from a hard day’s work. To our surprise, she points at the door and says, “March right back out, babe. I told you we were doing a girl’s wine night and you’re not welcome.” “This is my house,” he points out. “Not for the next two hours,” Mely retorts. “Go to Chesty’s and hang out with Pap.” “I need a shower,” Lowe grumbles. “In two hours,” Mely says, standing firm with her hands on her hips. “Fine,” he grumbles and turns to walk back out his front door. “Love you,” Mely calls out after him, and Larkin sighs again when Lowe looks over his shoulder and gives her a wink. “Love you back and you’re going to make this up to me later,” Lowe promises. “With relish,” Mely says with a laugh. After the door closes behind Lowe, the four of us girls head into the kitchen where Mely has laid out some cheese, crackers, and fruit. She also has a bottle of red and a bottle of white opened with four glasses. Because this is not our first girl’s wine night, Mely knows that Laken and I prefer red like her, but Trixie likes white. She pours and we nibble

on food while we stand around the large kitchen island that was just custom built by Lowe a few weeks ago. “How come Darby didn’t come?” Larkin asks as she plucks a grape from a platter. I shrug. “I think she’s just still trying to settle in. I get the impression she was pretty isolated from people while she was married, so she’s just a little reserved.” Darby and her daughter Linnie moved last weekend from Illinois to Whynot. It was almost pathetic how little they brought with them. Just a tiny U-Haul trailer behind Darby’s older-model BMW that held their clothes and Linnie’s toys. Jake shared with me all that he knew about Darby’s situation, but it wasn’t much. Darby didn’t share a lot with him or Kelly about her marriage, but Kelly figured enough to know it was abusive in some way. Jake had told me that after Darby got married, her husband kept her isolated from her family and friends and was completely controlling of her. Jake knew it wasn’t a good marriage when he forced Darby to quit working and be a stay-at-home mother. It’s easy to see how much Darby loves Linnie and I’m sure it was wonderful to spend time with her, but Darby had a career planned for herself that her husband essentially took away from her. My hope is I can get her to open up more and maybe come hang out with us girls so she knows she has a tribe here to support her. “So… what’s the next project?” Trixie asks Mely again, changing the subject. Mely buys properties, fixes them up, and flips them. Mely doesn’t answer right away, taking a sip of her wine first. When she sets her glass down, she says almost hesitantly, “I’m considering another local purchase.” “Really?” Larkin says with delight, because that means less travel away for Mely. Those two have become super close since Larkin’s always been close with Lowe. Mely nods, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “I made an offer on Millie’s.” “Get out of town,” I say in awe. Millie’s was the town’s only travel accommodations. It was a beautiful bed and breakfast, but after Millie died, her sons let the building fall into severe disrepair. Some real estate company bought it and hired Lowe to do renovations. “So it’s going up for sale?” “Not exactly,” Mely says proudly. “But I reached out to the new owners to see if they’d consider it.” “But the renovations are almost done,” Larkin points out. “I mean… that’s sort of what you do.” “I’m not looking to flip it,” Mely says hesitantly, like she’s almost not sure if she’s doing the right thing. “I’m looking to run it.” “Oh my God,” Trixie says with a brilliant smile. “That would keep you here rather than traveling.” Mely grins back. “Exactly, although I’d probably still do at least one project a year.”

“That’s so exciting,” Larkin says wistfully. She’s always been the big dreamer and the person who looks to everyone’s happiness before her own. My phone vibrates on the counter where I’d set it, and I look down to see a text notification from Jake. It never fails to bring a smile to my face when he reaches out to me, because it simply means he’s thinking about me in that moment and that’s nice to know. Especially in a long-distance relationship where doubts and insecurities can run rampant. After that first weekend I went to Chicago to see Jake, he came to Whynot the next two weekends, and while our time was short and limited, it was fabulous being with him. But there are far many more things that suck about this whole deal. Like for instance, I’m having more of a relationship with my phone than a real person. We have conversations via text, but they’re sporadic since we’re both busy people. The night is the most frustrating because in my job, I’m done at the end of a regular workday. Not Jake. He often has meetings and business dinners, and by the time he can spare some time to talk on the phone, he’s exhausted and ready for bed. We tried at first to make it fun to compensate for the distance between us. He’d send me flowers for the hell of it. I bought MG a cute little pajama set, dressed her up in it, and sent him photos. He flirted constantly via text and email, but then that gradually started to dry up as Jake seemed to settle back into his hectic business life. Hell… one night, Kelly even texted me because Jake got stuck in a long meeting and couldn’t even take ten seconds to let me know he was tied up. Admittedly, it was sweet she did, but also very weird given she’s his ex-wife. I figured out later that she’d gotten my phone number from Darby, and since then, she would text me periodically to check in. Again, very weird but, oddly, we’re sort of becoming friends via text. I open Jake’s message, and it brings a smile to my face. Roses are red, violets are blue, blah, blah, blah, I want you.

Snickering, I send a quick text back. The feeling is mutual. I wait for him to reply as the girls continue to chatter about Millie’s, but after five minutes, I know nothing is forthcoming. Jake is probably off to another meeting or on an important phone call. So frustrating. “What’s the dour look for?” Trixie asks as she nudges me with her shoulder. While Larkin and I are identical twins and share this unique bond where we sort of know what

the other sister is feeling, Trixie isn’t one I can ever hide stuff from. She’s got a keen eye and probably thinks it’s her duty to watch over all her younger siblings. “Nothing,” I say, setting my phone down, wishing hard I’d hear that whoop tone that indicates an incoming text from Jake. “Spill it,” Trixie orders and she does it with such command, Mely and Larkin stop talking and turn to look at me. “Nothing,” I insist, but Trixie glares at me, so I sigh. “It’s just frustrating trying to date someone long distance.” Trixie nods sagely as she had to do this for a while with Ry before he was able to move here permanently from Boston. But that was a little different because they were in love and had set plans to be together. She had security, and I don’t. “I thought things were going well,” Mely says. “They are,” I agree quickly. Too quickly, so I amend. “They were. We saw each other three weekends in a row, but the in-between is really hard trying to maintain that connection via just text and calls. Plus… Jake’s so busy, and it’s just not consistent. If I don’t hear from him, I start to doubt things.” “Wow,” Larkin says in astonishment. “You never share stuff like that, so it must be bothering you.” I glare at my twin, but she’s right. I keep things close to the vest, but dammit… I’m feeling vulnerable here. I pick my glass up, take a long swallow of wine, and then set it down. “I think we’re doing all the right things. Last weekend, his mom came over to Whynot from Pinehurst to meet me. He’s been to dinner at Mama and Daddy’s. It seems like it’s getting serious, but… I’m still so doubtful and unsure.” “Have you talked to him about this?” Trixie asks… the ever-practical Mancinkus. “Well, no,” I say sarcastically. “Because that would be too easy.” Larkin and Mely laugh, and I can’t help but smile, too. “In all seriousness, there just doesn’t seem to ever be a good time. Plus, I think maybe I’m just being weird, and I don’t want him to think I’m weird and insecure.” “You need to talk to him,” Trixie says sagely, and I know she’s right. “Why not just commit right now to all of us that you’ll do it this weekend?” “We’re not seeing each other this weekend,” I mutter glumly. “He’s got a business trip to California next week and needs to work all weekend. He didn’t even invite me to Chicago, not that I could really afford to go.” “Next weekend, then,” Larkin says brightly. It bounces right off me. “He’s not said anything about getting together that weekend. He’ll be coming back from California, and he might be too tired,” I say, offering an excuse that I’m actually

anticipating hearing from him. That’s how insecure I am about things. It reminds me of the way I felt when I first returned to Whynot after Cam tried to tear me down and make me doubt myself. Not that it’s a comparison between the two men, because it’s not. I’m just noting that I’ve felt this way before, and it just sucks. I take another large gulp of wine, and since the girls have got me sharing—or whining —as the case may be, I continue and lay out what’s really eating at me. “I’m worried that what we have has just run its course. We had good intentions of making it work, but I’m feeling so disconnected from him and I’m not getting much from him to indicate that he’s bothered we’re not seeing each other. He seems to actually be okay with the way things are.” “That will never be enough for you,” Larkin murmurs, and my eyes snap to her. The only being in the world who will ever know me better than myself. “No,” I agree. “What we have now is just not going to be enough.” “Then you have to talk about it,” Larkin tells me firmly. The expression on her face says clearly that she wants me to be happy and the only way to do it is to confront this head-on with Jake. I don’t like the idea of doing that but I think she might be right. I have to know, one way or the other, if this relationship is worth the effort and future heartbreak I could potentially be facing that I know, without a doubt, will be a million times worse than what I ever felt after Cam.

CHAPTER 24

Jake

T

HE SOFT BUT quick knocking on my office door penetrates my brain all too easily, which

is just further testament to the fact I can’t concentrate for crap on anything. I look up to see Kelly walking in. She looks at her watch pointedly and then to me. “What are you still doing here? I figured you’d be heading to Whynot.” “I’m not going,” I mutter. I look down at some financial reports I’ve been trying to study for the past hour, but I can’t seem to make heads nor tails of them, despite the fact I have an MBA from Kellogg. “Why not?” Kelly asks almost aggressively as I hear her take a seat opposite my desk. My guilt causes me to keep my gaze averted, but I answer her. “I’m exhausted and Laken’s got some work to do this weekend. It’s just a good time for me to chill here at home.” “But you didn’t go see her last weekend,” Kelly points out. “Because I was preparing for the California trip,” I counter, still looking down at the report where the numbers are blurring before me. “What the hell is going on, Jake?” Kelly snaps and her tone is so icy, my head pops up. A million denials run through my head, but Kelly has that stubborn tilt to her head and a keen nose for bullshit, so I lean back in my chair with a sigh and rub at my eyes. When my hands drop and I focus on my ex-wife again, I say, “I feel Laken slipping away.” “Which is why you should get on a damn plane and go see her,” Kelly says drolly. “You’re a smart man. This isn’t rocket science.” She’s right, but my biggest fear is I’ll go to see Laken face to face and it will give her the perfect opportunity to call things off. Things have cooled significantly this past week, and I feel powerless to change anything. “I’m thinking of calling it quits with her,” I toss out to Kelly to see if that’s as unpalatable an idea to her as it feels to me. Kelly rolls her eyes. “No, you’re not. You never take the easy way out.” I sigh and decide to just lay it out. Kelly’s always been a good sounding board, and she and I have never held back from each other. “When Laken came to Chicago that first time about four weeks ago, she had no confidence this would work out between us. I convinced

her to just take it one day at a time because I was so sure that things would just get stronger and stronger between us.” “And?” Kelly prompts. “And I think Laken is a great deal smarter than I am because she knew then that the distance between us was going to be a lot to overcome. I talked her out of it. Talked around her. Got her to stick with it because I was probably naive and foolish.” “Love is always naive and foolish,” Kelly scoffs at me. “It’s why it’s so crazy and scary.” “Love?” I ask almost indignantly. “Who said anything about that?” “I’d slap you if I was sitting closer to you,” Kelly says almost primly. “Stop denying it and focus on the real issue.” Turning my head to avoid her knowing gaze, I look out over the Chicago skyline. I used to love that view, but I’m finding it lackluster these days. I’m pretty sure it’s because I’m in love with a woman I can only hold periodically. In love with a woman who is deserving of more than I’m giving her. Still, I don’t admit this to Kelly when I turn to look at her. Instead, and because my exwife is pretty much a genius, I ask her, “So what’s the solution?” “Is distance the only problem?” “It’s a damn big problem,” is how I answer her. “Then get rid of it,” Kelly says as if that’s just the easiest solution in the world. “Well, why didn’t I think of that?” I say with so much sarcasm that I actually feel guilty about it. Here my ex-wife sits, trying to help me figure out my love life. So I rein it in and apologize. “Sorry… but who is the one to get rid of the distance?” Kelly shrugs. “As far as careers go, Laken’s is more expendable.” That’s harsh, but it’s also true. Laken makes a pittance compared to me, and she could walk away from her small practice. She could easily land a job here in Chicago that would pay more. I, on the other hand, own a multi-million-dollar business with my main office in Chicago. I can’t just pack up shop and move to Small Town, USA. But truly… that’s not really the problem. “She won’t leave her family,” I say softly, finally letting out the words that actually make things a lot simpler. Knowing Laken, moving to Chicago is never going to be an option. “She won’t leave Whynot. It’s where she wants to be, and she wants that more than she wants me.” Kelly’s eyes narrow. “You know that for sure?” “I’m not one-hundred percent, but I’ve witnessed the bond she has with her family and that community. She’d have to be head-over-heels crazy in love with me to give that up.”

“Maybe she is,” Kelly suggests. I shake my head. There’s no way or else she would have let me know. Besides, what reasons have I given her lately to be in love with me? We barely see each other, and our conversations are short and stilted. “This is ridiculous,” Kelly says as she pushes from her chair. She comes to the edge of my desk, puts her palms there, and leans over to look me right in the eye. “Get your butt up, get to the airport, and go to Whynot. Figure your crap out with Laken and whatever you decide, stick to it.” “What do you mean whatever I decide?” I ask cautiously. “I just said Laken wouldn’t come here.” “Then you figure out how to move there if you really love her,” Kelly says, and the simple truth of that hits me hard. “I couldn’t,” I blurt out. “My office is here.” “So,” Kelly says. “Didn’t stop you from dropping everything here to work in Whynot when a baby goat needed you, did it? I would think Laken’s a little more important.” And that statement right there is like a slap in the face, so much so I jerk backward. But still, I defend myself. “That was temporary. Just a few weeks’ time, and it was workable. You’re talking about me moving permanently away from my business.” “A business that you can still travel back to when you need. Just make your permanent home there with Laken. Make her travel back here with you. It’s semantics, Jake. Quit trying to put everything in a narrow box and start thinking outside it. Isn’t that one of the things I taught you when you were in school?” My lips curl up, and I nod. “You always preached innovation was the pathway to true success.” “Then get freaking innovative and figure out how you can have it all,” Kelly suggests, as she turns away and starts walking to the door. “And I suggest you hurry and get to the airport before you miss the last flight of the evening.” ♦ IT’S ALMOST MIDNIGHT by the time I pull into Laken’s driveway. All the lights are off in her house, but I didn’t expect anything different. I should have called or at the least texted her I was coming, but I somehow got it in my head it would be romantic to just show up as a surprise. I figure she’ll be utterly charmed by me or she’ll mistake me for an intruder and shoot me. I get out of the car. The minute I close the door, I can hear Herman start to bark from inside. I cringe slightly because, while I knew I was going to wake Laken up, I didn’t want to do it by having her dog go nuts inside. When I pull my duffle bag from the backseat, her porch light goes on.

The screen door opens and Herman bounds out, followed by a very sleepy-looking Laken. She’s stunning in a ratty old t-shirt that comes down to mid-thigh, and I recognize it as one of mine she must have pilfered when she was in Chicago. I’m close enough and the porchlight shines just right that I can see the look of surprise on her face to see me. I shut the door just as Herman reaches me. His barks immediately quiet the minute he realizes who I am, and his tail starts wagging as he dances circles around me. The dog seems insanely happy to see me, and I wonder if his mama feels the same. When I reach the bottom of her porch steps, I look up at her and say, “Surprise.” “Indeed,” she murmurs and gives me a smile. It’s all I need to trot up the four steps, drop my bag, and pull her into a hard hug. She squeezes me back with equal measure, and the message is clear. She misses me the way I miss her. Then my mouth is on hers, and everything is forgotten. All the worries and stress and exhaustion. Everything in this moment feels right, and I know there’s no way in hell I can let Laken slip away from me. I just have to figure out how we both can have it all. ♦

Herman On knowing my mom better than herself… JAKE’S HERE. JAKE’S here. Jake’s here. I run around him in circles and when he hugs my mom, I just grin at the two of them with my tongue hanging out of my mouth. I can actually feel the happiness radiating off her, and that’s not something I’ve felt in a long time. I’m in tune with my mom. Sure, it’s easy enough to know she’s mad at me by a certain tone of her voice, or there’s a look in her eye she gets when she actually loves my mischievous ways. But I can read her even when she’s silent and staring off into space. I can actually feel when she’s sad or worried or stressed. I don’t like it when she feels that way, and I’ve noticed she’s like that when Jake leaves. Just like I can feel her joy washing over me as she puts her mouth onto Jake’s. That makes her extra happy, and my tail wags harder. I hope Jake stays this time. I get mad when he leaves because my mom gets sad, but when I see how happy she is when he’s back, then that makes me happy, too. I had once considered biting him just so he’d stay away. I’d figured Mom would get over him eventually, but now I don’t think that’s the right thing to do.

I’ll try to be a good dog so he’ll want to stay, and then we can all be happy together.

CHAPTER 25

Laken

“W

ELL, WELL, WELL,” Larkin says as I open the door to Sweet Cakes. “Don’t you look

positively radiant?” I didn’t study myself in the mirror all that well this morning after my shower, but if I look anything like I feel, then yeah… that’s a legitimate statement. “Jake flew in last night and surprised me,” I tell her as the door swings shut behind me. Larkin steps up to the bakery case and opens it, knowing I’m here for some pastries. “And give me just an assortment. Enough to feed me, Jake, Darby, Linnie, and Carlos.” Laken starts filling a pink box, but she’s not quiet while she works. “That’s sweet he came in to see you. Romantic, right?” Yes. Sweet. Romantic. Surprising. Uplifting. I’m floating on cloud nine this morning. Just waking up beside Jake made me feel happier and more at peace than anything I’d felt in a long time. All my worries just melted away. All my insecurities that he was losing interest evaporated. How in the world I could have ever thought that with the way he made love to me for much of the night is beyond me, but he proved to me he is not pulling away. “What are y’all going to do today?” Larkin asks as she straightens up from the case and puts the box of pastries on the counter. She closes it and tapes the edges. “Jake suggested a ride to the beach,” I say as I pull my wallet out of my purse. “Spend the day there, then do dinner. Think you can swing by my house after work and feed Herman? Let him out to play for a bit?” “Sure,” she says genially. Larkin is always the person I can count on, although she rarely herself ever asks for help. If she did, there would never be a shortage of people who would rush to her aid because she just inspires that in people. “Want me to just take him to my house for the night, that way you don’t have to be in a rush to get back at all?” “No,” I tell her with a shake of my head as I hand over a twenty-dollar bill. “Jake’s got an early morning flight out so we won’t be out late. I just don’t know if we’ll be back in time for Herman’s dinner.” Larkin makes my change and pushes the box of pastries at me. I grab them both and give her a smile. “Have fun, Laken,” she tells me softly. “And talk. You two should talk.”

“Yeah, I know,” I say with a resigned sigh. As happy as I am right now and as good as I feel that Jake is here, I know when he leaves tomorrow a lot of my worries will return. We definitely need to talk. ♦ “THIS IS AWESOME,” Jake says as we walk along the shoreline. “The entire beach to ourselves.” That’s not exactly true as I can see a couple in the distance walking toward us and we passed a few surfers a bit ago, but for the most part… it’s pretty deserted. The sun has already moved over the western horizon, and it will be dark before too long. I’m not a fan of the shorter days that come with October, but I do love the cooler weather. Jake’s hand squeezes mine, and I squeeze back. “It’s been a wonderful day,” I say, not feeling in any rush to get back but knowing we’ll have to leave before long. “I don’t want it to end.” “Me either,” he replies as he releases my hand to put his arm around my shoulder. He pulls me in and my arm goes around his waist. It feels just so right and magical, and I wonder how this can be sustained. “We need to talk, babe,” Jake says with another squeeze, and I hear resolve and trepidation in his voice. All the magic and rightness of the moment dissolves, and my hands suddenly go clammy. “I know,” I say softly, but I think my words may be carried away on the wind because they come out so meekly. “Let’s sit down for a bit,” he says and veers me away from the water’s edge to the softer sand. We’re only about a hundred yards from where we parked the car on the other side of the dunes, but I’m grateful we’re staying on the beach. I’m already feeling the stress rise within me. Perhaps the calming ocean waters will ease it somewhat. We plop down on our butts, side by side. I wrap my arms around my shins and tilt my head to look at Jake. He plants his bare feet in the sand, legs slightly spread, and rests his arms on his knees while he looks out over the water. “Last few weeks have been tough,” he states the obvious. “Not seeing each other… I don’t think we can sustain.” Even though I’ve been thinking the same exact thing, my stomach flips hard when I hear it from Jake’s mouth. There’s resignation in his voice. Fatigue, perhaps, that I hear. I worry because he’s saying these words without looking me in the eye and I realize in this moment… I have been waiting for Jake to come up with a solution because I don’t have one. I can’t seem to reconcile my desire to stay here in Whynot and lead an amazing but slow-paced life surrounded by my family with losing Jake in the process.

“I have to know,” he says as his head turns to look at me. “Can you ever envision yourself moving to Chicago?” My heart contracts so hard it robs me of my breath for a moment, and that’s because the hope in his eyes hurts me more than anything. The words won’t come out of my mouth, but I slowly shake my head. He gives me an understanding smile and nods. I’m not telling him anything he didn’t know, but I could see he was hoping for an easy answer. “I’m sorry,” I finally manage to wheeze out. Jake blinks at me hard, turning so suddenly toward me that I rear back a little. But then his hand is around the back of my neck and he’s pulling me a little closer to him. He gives me a squeeze and bends down to peer into my eyes. “Don’t be sorry for wanting what you want, Laken,” he tells me softly, but that doesn’t undermine the truth I hear in his words. “I know you’re not the girl with big-city stars in your eyes anymore. You’re all about the fireflies at dusk and the sounds of crickets as you go to sleep. No steel and concrete for you, and it’s actually one of the things I adore about you.” My breath comes out in a rush and I sag against him, my head going to his chest. He pulls me in tight, but nothing is resolved. “Think you could live in Chicago part time?” he asks quietly, and I go still. This isn’t something I’d considered because I have my business here. Jake has his there. How would that even work? Lifting my head up, I look at him. “I’m not sure. I’ve got the clinic. And Herman… he’s a country boy. He’d hate the city.” “I know,” Jake says with resignation. A dog certainly shouldn’t be a reason for keeping two people apart, but he accepts my concern. I push away from Jake slightly only so I can turn to face him fully. I go to my knees, scoot across the sand to get closer to him, and then take his face in my hands. “I’ve fallen for you, Jake. I didn’t plan on it and going in, I knew this was going to be really, really hard to work through. And I’m just sorry I don’t have the right answers for us.” “You’ve fallen for someone who is not part of your world,” he says, and I flinch from the sadness in his tone. Jake may play at being a part-time farmer, but let’s face it. He is a steel and concrete guy. He has so much invested within his world in Chicago that I can’t ever ask him to give that up for me. More importantly, I don’t hear a reciprocal declaration that he’s fallen for me, and that cuts deep. I feel like my ship is sinking, and I make a flailing attempt to hang on to him. “Maybe we can still do the long distance. I can make an effort to do more weekends there. We can

travel back and forth on the weekends. I’m sure we can make that work. There are plenty of people who have long-distance relationships on a permanent basis.” Jake’s hands engulf mine, and he pulls them away from his face. His expression is sober when he asks, “And how does that work with a family?” “Family?” I ask, confused as to his meaning. “Yeah… family. Kids. How would that work?” “Wait,” I say as I pull my hands from his. “We’re having kids?” Jake rolls his eyes. “I want kids, Laken. A family. You know this, and you know that’s why Kelly and I divorced. I’m always looking to my future and if you’re in my future permanently, I would want that. So how would that work?” My gaze drops to the sand. “I don’t know.” “Can you give me anything, Laken?” Jake snaps, and my eyes fly up to his from the irritation I hear in his voice. “Because I’m trying for a solution, but you don’t seem willing to make any compromises.” “Well, why should I?” I snap right back as I push up from the sand to loom over him. “I have no clue how you even feel about me. Most of our conversations occur in the form of short texts and here you are, wanting me to give up everything I hold dear, and I don’t even know what or who I’m getting in return. All I can seem to fathom is that your business takes up most of your time, and you want me to move to a strange place where the most interaction I’d probably get from you is nothing more than short texts.” “That’s not fair,” he growls as he stands, and now he’s the one looming over me. I look up at him, not backing down an inch. “It’s totally fair. It’s the whole point of this, right? That we’re from two different worlds and neither one of us fit in the other. And Jake… I’d never ask you to give up what you have in Chicago. I couldn’t. I don’t have that right.” “That’s interesting,” Jake says as I note with dismay that his shoulders seem to sag in defeat. “I had no problem asking you to give up your life here to come to Chicago. I did it because I want to find a solution for us to be together. I don’t see you making the same effort.” “Aaaghhh,” I yell out toward the ocean, completely frustrated with him. Frustrated with myself, too, because I can’t seem to figure out how things got so far off track. The only thing I can figure is that we weren’t meant to be on the same track together at all. “Let’s head back,” Jake says as he holds his hand out to me. I don’t even know what that means. I thought we just had an honest conversation where we both concluded that we don’t belong together. And yet he holds his hand out to me now, expecting me to take it.

I want to ask him what that means, but I’m afraid of the answer. So I ignore it and brush past him, lengthening my strides so I can hurry back to the car before I start crying.

CHAPTER 26

Pap

T

HE DOOR TO Chesty’s opens, and I see Jake walk through it. He looks pissed. And beat

down. No better place to be than a bar, I guess. He walks right over to me and takes the stool that’s normally reserved for Trixie, although I’ll have to admit to myself one day it’s just a regular bar stool now. She spends her time with Ry and that’s how it should be. “Heard you came to town,” I say by way of greeting. “But figured you’d want to be spending your time with my granddaughter rather than in a bar drinking.” Jake doesn’t answer at first, just holds up his finger to Sam-Pete for a beer. He then turns to me and says, “Your granddaughter is far too frustrating for me to be around tonight. And by the way… how are you feeling?” “I’m feeling fine,” I tell him. “Apparently much better than you. How is Laken doing?” Sam-Pete slides a draft beer in front of Jake. He picks it up, takes a healthy slug, and sets it back down before he answers me. “What’s that saying you have down South? Oh, I know… she was madder than a hornet when I dropped her off at her house.” “Why so much trouble in paradise?” I ask him with a grin. Despite Jake’s anger that covers him like a thin veil, I can sense he’s deeply troubled. He doesn’t answer me, just stares at his beer. I don’t prod because I’m not overly nosy that way. I give advice if it’s warranted. Past that, I expect people can figure things out on their own. But then Jake turns to me, resting a forearm on the bar. “So, here’s the thing. I love your granddaughter. Pretty sure she loves me, too, but hell if I know that for a fact since we can’t seem to even talk to each other for five minutes without the major problem in our relationship rearing up in our faces.” “The fact you live in Chicago and Laken lives here,” I surmise. “Yes,” Jake says, stabbing his finger in the air at me. “And I’m trying to come up with a solution, but it seems like the only one she’s willing to accept is if I give up my life in Chicago. She’s not willing to compromise.” “What exactly is your life in Chicago?” I ask him curiously, because I don’t know much about Jake other than he’s rich, owns some kind of tech company, and seems smitten with Laken.

“My company is there. My board of directors is there,” he says. “My damn office that I work out of is there.” “Close friends you hang out with a lot?” I ask him. “Well, no… not really,” he says. “Family there?” “No… all back in Baltimore except for my mom who just moved to Pinehurst.” No controlling the slight snark in my tone. “Oh, that’s lovely. That’s not very far from here.” Jake takes a sip of his beer, but I continue. “I heard they have these amazing new computers called laptops. You can basically carry it with you. Like a portable office.” Turning his head, Jake glares at me. “And guess what… we actually got wi-fi here in Whynot.” “I get what you’re trying to say,” Jake says with a grimace. “It’s not lost on me that I have the power to operate a great deal of my business through the wonders of technology.” “Then what is the problem?” I finally ask him. “I still have to travel,” Jake points out. “I’ll have meetings in Chicago. And meetings in other cities. I asked Laken if she could live part time in Chicago, and she said she couldn’t. And no offense, Pap… but your granddaughter is stubborn and obstinate and drives me completely crazy.” “But you love her,” I say with all the smugness I can muster. “Yes,” he says with defeat. “Then let that guide your decisions. Finish your beer, get back to her, and come up with a solution. I don’t like the idea of my granddaughter being broken hearted, and while I like you, boy, I won’t hesitate to whoop your butt if you don’t make this right.” Jake’s head dips so I can’t see the smirk on his face, but he pulls his wallet out and throws a twenty on the bar. He stands from his stool and tells me, “Have a few beers on me. Your advice was passably decent.” I watch as he walks out of the bar, head held high, shoulders set straight, and determination in his stride. I just hope he maintains his focus when he gets to Laken’s. He’s met his match with her.

CHAPTER 27

Jake

I’

T S COMPLETELY DARK by the time I pull into Laken’s driveway, but the windows are

shining brightly from the lights on within. When I’d dropped her off less than forty-five minutes ago, it was with a curt, “I’m going to go get a beer. I’ll be back later.” She didn’t say a word. Just remained silent, which was exactly how we spent the entire ride back from the beach. Laken just got out of the car, quietly shut the door, and walked into her house without looking back at me. I was torn between spanking some sense into her and just getting on a plane to leave it all behind. Instead, I decided to seek out Pap because if anything, I knew he’d be brutally honest with me. And I needed to know if I was the one who was being stubborn. I turn the car off and think about how easily Pap put things into perspective. Turns out, my life isn’t in Chicago. Just my business is, and at least a part of my business could be run from anywhere. I mean… I knew that. I’d worked from Whynot before. But what I hadn’t considered was that Chicago was no more of a home to me than California was when I played at USC. It was just a place I lived. Baltimore was where I was born and raised, but I can’t even really consider that my home. My siblings are there with a multitude of spouses, nieces, and nephews and while I’d always visit a few times a year, I don’t really miss the area. I enjoyed Chicago much more as a hip and cool place to live. But it wasn’t my life. What Pap made me do was realize that the destination isn’t necessarily what’s important. Cities are just cities. My couch in Chicago is far more comfortable than Laken’s, but I’d rather be laying on whatever couch held Laken, and that would be the one here in Whynot. Pap made me realize that perhaps I was the one who actually needed to be more malleable in the art of compromise, because let’s face it… Laken has far more to lose than I do. Whynot is her home. It’s where her family lives. It’s a place she identifies with on an extremely deep level. She has history here, and I can suddenly picture my kids—our kids —running through the backyard catching fireflies at night with Herman jumping all around and barking. That’s what is important. I get out of the car and walk to her door with some trepidation. I’m prepared for Laken to have my bag waiting there for me, but I’m sure as hell not going to let her run me off

without her at least hearing me out. To my surprise when I knock on the door, I hear her call out in what sounds like a fairly amicable voice, “Door’s open.” She’s sitting at the table when I step inside, Herman lying beside her. He doesn’t wag his tail at me or approach in welcome. In fact, his stare is baleful and filled with reproach. I’d hurt his mom and he wasn’t happy about it. My eyes go to a notebook Laken has opened on the kitchen table in front of her. She’s got a small calculator sitting beside it, and she’s scribbling some notes. “What are you doing?” I ask as I walk toward her. She doesn’t look up at me but continues to jot stuff down. When I reach her chair, she finally sets the pen down and gives me her attention. Nodding toward the chair opposite her, she says, “I’ve got a solution.” My entire body jolts with excitement, not just from her words but from the positive smile she beams at me. But I don’t move. As much as I wanted Laken to give me an ounce of compromise, I need her to know I don’t need it now. “I’ve already got the solution,” I tell her, loving the way her mouth drops open and she blinks in surprise. But not loving the way her expression turns wary, so I hurry up and tell her, “I’m going to move here permanently.” I’m not sure what I expect from her, but I’m a little discombobulated when she waves a hand at me dismissively and looks back down to the notebook. “It’s not necessary. I think we can—” Reaching out, I jerk the notebook away from her, so she looks back up at me completely stunned. I toss it on the counter and squat down by her chair. Putting a hand on her thigh, the other on her shoulder, I tell her the thing I should have told her when I first walked in her house last night. “I love you, Laken. And I want to be with you, and because Whynot is so important to you, we’re going to be together here… where you want to live.” “But—” she starts to say, but I move my hand from her shoulder to her mouth where I cover it. “Hear me out,” I say quickly. “I can do a lot of my work from here, but I’m going to have to still travel to Chicago. I’ll keep the condo there, and if you can sneak away from work, maybe you can come with me for a few days to lessen the time we’re apart. But I promise, I’ll try to keep the travel down as much as possible so we’re not doing a longdistance relationship. Whynot will be my home. You will be my home.” “You love me?” she blurts out after batting my hand from her mouth, and for the first time ever, I see a softness start to shine from within Laken’s eyes that I didn’t know existed. It’s coated in a thin sheet of emotional tears, but the tremor and awe in her voice

lets me know that my declaration of love for her may be the most important thing she’s ever heard in her life. “Yes, I love you,” I say as my hand goes to her neck. I pull her to me, looking her directly in the eye. “And I don’t want to be away from you anymore. So let’s sit down and start planning how to get me moved here as soon as possible. Granted, I’ll need to spend some time in Chicago setting things up to manage remotely. I’ll need to make some management changes, transfer some board authorities, but it won’t be too difficult with—” This time, I’m the one who’s silenced by Laken throwing her arms around my neck and plastering her mouth to mine. Instantly, it turns hot and deep and all thoughts of moving and love and how to transfer business authorities vanishes from my brain. All I can think about is Laken and the pure happiness she’s transferring into me with that kiss. When she finally pulls away, her eyes are sparkling with amusement. “I need to show you what I was working on.” Laken jumps up from the chair, snags the notebook, and points at me to sit where she’d just vacated. I do and it feels so damn good when she comes to sit on my lap, laying the notebook out before us. I wrap my arms around her waist, put my chin on her shoulder, and look down at her handwriting, which is surprisingly neat and compact for someone in the medical field. At the top are the words “Mobile Veterinary Services”. Below it, she has listed out various medical services that seem fairly normal in a veterinary practice. Underneath is a column of items entitled “Referred Services,” that include things such as surgery, x-rays, and emergency services. And below that… numbers. Equations. Additions and subtractions. I lean to the side so I can look at Laken’s face as she smiles down at the notebook. “What is this?” “My new veterinary business model,” she says with her chest puffed out in pride. “Your what?” I ask, partly in confusion, partly in alarm. She’s talking about major changes here, and I don’t know what that means. Laken hops off my lap and turns to face me for a moment before she starts pacing the kitchen. Herman raises his head from the floor and watches her intently. “After you left to go get a beer with Pap, I started thinking about what was truly holding me back from committing to spending time in Chicago, and I realized it was the fact I had a business here. And while you have a business, too, I have to be at mine. I have to be available for my patients, where as you can work remotely.” I nodded. “So I called a friend of mine I went to vet school with as she operates a mobile veterinary service. She doesn’t have an actual office building, but operates out of a custom

van. She goes to her patients, not the other way around. It’s how I do it for some of the farm animals I treat, but she does this for domestic animals, too.” “I don’t understand,” I say neutrally, so I don’t ding her enthusiasm. But I truly don’t understand. “How is this different? You’d still be leaving a business unattended.” “No, you don’t get it,” she says with some exasperation. “I would change how I operated my business. I’d cut out the brick-and-mortar clinic, and I’d change the expectations of my patients. I’d save a huge amount of money on rent and equipment, and I could expand my reach to other counties. I could also set my schedule to my whims rather than having to keep open office hours for walk-ins and emergencies. Although, if there’s an emergency and I’m in town, I could go to that person, but if I’m in Chicago with you, I’ll have a list of vets in nearby towns who could step in.” “So you want to do this to…” I ask, letting my words trail off because I’m still not sure what she’s doing. “I’m changing my business model so I’m not tied to a traditional vet clinic. I’m cutting my expenses greatly so I don’t have to work as hard. I’ll condense my appointments into geographical locations, and that will free up my time. I can use that time to travel with you.” And then I get it. She’s tweaking her business so she can be as mobile as I can be. “We can have two homes,” she says with excitement, but then just as quickly frowns. “I’ll have to get someone to watch Herman when we’re gone. Maybe Darby can.” “Babe,” I say as I push from the chair and reach out for her shoulders. I give her a squeeze so she focuses on me. “We won’t be in Chicago a lot. I promise. And if you can come with me to lessen our time apart, that would be awesome. But you don’t have to change everything about your practice to do this.” Laken shakes her head. “No, you don’t get it. I want to. It’s finally clicking for me. I don’t want to be tied to my practice the way Cam was. I thought that was the height of success, but I know it’s not now. What I want is to be here in Whynot, and I also want to be with you. I want a career I love, but that also suits my needs. This is it, Jake. This is how we do it.” I shake my head in wonder at this amazingly brilliant creature standing before me. How easy this solution was once we both got our heads out of our butts and started figuring out innovative ways that would work to keep us together. Kelly would be so proud of both of us. “Whatever you need to get the mobile practice set up,” I tell her with another squeeze to her shoulders, “I’ll front you the setup.” “You’re cute and I love you.” She smirks at me. “But I’ve got this. I can finance the mobile van setup. My friend gave me all the info.” I don’t argue with Laken about this, because frankly, I don’t have any right to step on her toes. If we were married, that would be another thing.

And damn… just the thought of marriage to this woman, and her having my kids, and us chasing fireflies in the backyard together with Herman running around and barking… I just know. This is where my life is supposed to be. Pulling Laken in close, I ask her, “So you admit you love me?” “It’s not a hardship to do so,” she returns impishly. “You’re moderately handsome and successful and Herman seems to like you.” I respond by dropping a hand to smack her butt. She yelps and I pick her up, turning toward the bedroom. Herman starts to follow, but I give him a stern, “Stay.” His butt hits the linoleum, and I carry Laken off to her bedroom. Correction… our bedroom. I love the way that sounds. ♦

Herman The end of this story… MY MOM IS happy. I’m happy. *tail thumping continuously on the floor as Jake carries my mom into the bedroom* NEWSLETTER SIGNUP!!! Don’t miss another new release by Juliette Poe!!! Sign up for her newsletter and keep up to date on new releases, giveaways, book reviews and so much more. If you enjoyed Barking Up the Wrong Tree as much as I enjoyed writing it, it would mean a lot for you to give me a review on your favorite retailer’s website. Connect with Juliette online: Website: juliettepoe.com Twitter: twitter.com/juliette_poe Facebook: facebook.com/AuthorJuliettePoe

About the Author

Juliette Poe is the sweet and swoony alter ego of New York Times Best Selling author, Sawyer Bennett. A fun-loving southern girl, Juliette knows the allure of sweet tea, small towns, and long summer nights, that some of the best dates end sitting on the front porch swing, and that family is top priority. She brings love in the south to life in her debut series, Sex & Sweet Tea. When Juliette isn’t delivering the sweetest kind of romance, she’s teaching her southern belle daughter the fine art of fishing, the importance of wearing Chucks, and the endless possibilities of a vivid imagination.