Barking Up the Wrong Tree

by Sawyer Bennett

“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 mid-summer 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 rese
arch 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

  “You’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 t
ells 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.