Fifteen, by Jill’s count. All of them scampering and playing in the waning sun as though they were at the best place on earth.
All of them, that is, except Tinkerbell. The goat had been glued to her brother’s side since they’d taken her out of the crate they’d used to transport her.
“Tinkerbell doesn’t like it here,” Chris stated sullenly.
“Give her a chance, honey.” Jill couldn’t be angry at Chris about his lies and his disappearing act when his heart was obviously breaking. She’d eventually make her displeasure known and stress to him it was important she know where he was at all times, but not now. “We just got here. She needs time to get accustomed to her surroundings.”
“That’s exactly right.” Mr. Humphrey, one of the owners of Tiny Treasures Farm, was a big man in his seventies with massive shoulders, bushy eyebrows and a florid, friendly face. “You’re one sharp cookie, Jill. No wonder Dan married you.”
First Lindsey had assumed she and Dan were dating, and now this. Dan was just inches from her, where she could smell the pleasant scent of soap, shampoo and man. She increased the space between them.
“Dan and I aren’t married,” Jill said.
“Give it time,” Mr. Humphrey advised. “Some men are slow to pop the question. I should know. Took me a while myself after I met my wife.”
“But we’re not—”
“Let me show you ’round the place.” Mr. Humphrey seemed not to notice her attempt to correct his misconception. He strode across the grassy enclosure without looking back, as though he fully expected them to follow.
Dan cocked one eyebrow at her, then headed after the farmer, as silent as the sleeping tomcat stretched out under the picnic table. Come to think of it, he hadn’t said a word to correct Lindsey, either.
Jill fell into step beside Dan. “Why didn’t you tell Mr. Humphrey we weren’t dating?” she asked in a quiet voice.
“He didn’t listen to you,” Dan said. “What makes you think I’d have any better luck?”
She had to admit that made sense. “I just can’t figure out why everyone keeps making that same mistake.”
“It’s kind of flattering.” Dan smiled at her. Today he wore a short-sleeved casual shirt that showed off the musculature in his arms. The wind blew through his dark hair, lending him a dashing quality. “If someone as pretty as you were dating me, I’d be doing something right.”
Warmth spread through Jill, although the sun was no longer particularly bright.
“Over here’s the barn,” Mr. Humphrey bellowed, interrupting the moment.
Dan’s eyes gleamed. “We’d better catch up.”
Mr. Humphrey didn’t break his long, boot-propelled strides, not seeming to notice they weren’t directly behind him. “Inside are the stalls where the goats hunker down for the night.”
This was something Chris should see, too. She half turned as she walked, discovering her brother was rooted to the spot where they’d left him. He was rubbing Tinkerbell’s snout, the way he’d discovered the goat liked. Even beside the miniature animal, Chris looked small and sad.
“Chris?” she called. “Are you coming, honey?”
He shook his head. Resigned, she continued on to the barn.
“My wife—she’s away visiting her mother—treats the pygmies better than she does me,” Mr. Humphrey said when the three of them were inside a tidy barn that smelled of hay and grass. “I help her out on occasion, but this is her enterprise.”
He gestured to a row of stalls with open doors as he led them the length of the barn.
“The pygmies usually stay two to a stall,” Mr. Humphrey said. “We keep their hay and their water elevated. They don’t like eating where they sleep.”
He proceeded to outline a day in the life of one of his wife’s “little darlin’s,” as he said she called them. Their regime consisted primarily of eating, playing and sleeping.
“She tells customers her goats are as tame and affectionate as they come, although between you and me we occasionally get an ornery one.” Mr. Humphrey delivered the last comment in a lowered voice after they’d made a loop of the property and were heading back toward Chris. “When we sell ’em, she makes sure the pygmies go to good homes. Our customers are in the market for pets. She makes real sure her little darlin’s don’t go to any butchers.”
“Butchers!” Chris exclaimed, tears welling in his eyes. He hugged Tinkerbell hard around the neck. “You sell your goats to butchers!”
“No, honey,” Jill refuted. “Mr. Humphrey said his wife makes sure not to sell the goats to butchers. The animals they raise here have good lives.”
Chris loosened his grip on Tinkerbell’s neck. His lower lip, however, still trembled.
“Fantastic lives. The does are breeding machines, but my wife sees to it they only have one pregnancy a year. She waits till they’re at least eighteen months old to breed ’em.” Mr. Humphrey bent at the waist and started to put out his hand to Tinkerbell, then withdrew it. “Something wrong with her left eye?”
“She’s blind in that eye,” Dan said. “Didn’t notice it myself at first.”
Mr. Humphrey sucked in a breath through his teeth. “That’s gonna change things. The wife’s goats, they’re all up to NPGA standards.”
“NPGA?” Jill asked.
“National Pygmy Goat Association,” Mr. Humphrey explained. “She prides herself on turning out animals that are a credit to their breed. She’d never breed this one. Or put her up for sale, either.”
Unease skittered through Jill. They all knew it was extremely unlikely Tinkerbell’s original owner would materialize and reclaim her, despite the feelers they’d put out. “Then what’ll happen to her?”
Chris positioned himself between the pygmy goat and the farmer, as though he meant to defend her.
“We can’t afford to have her around our studs in case that blindness of hers is genetic,” Mr. Humphrey said. “We don’t milk our goats here, but other breeders do. My wife could ask around to see if anyone else will take her.”
“You mean Tinkerbell will never be a pet?” Chris asked.
“The goat’s half blind, son. And I’m thinking hair might not grow back where that abrasion is,” Mr. Humphrey said, not unkindly. “My wife’s worked hard to develop this farm’s reputation. She can’t afford to be selling substandard animals.”
“Tinkerbell has standards!” Chris objected.
Mr. Humphrey cocked his head. “What?”
“He’s trying to say the goat would make a good pet,” Dan translated.
“Maybe she would, but our customers wouldn’t want her. Not when they can have perfection.” Mr. Humphrey gestured to the pygmy goats on the makeshift playground.
“Tinkerbell’s better than any of those stupid goats,” Chris said. “Tell him, Jill.”
“Tinkerbell’s a fine goat,” Jill said lamely.
“We don’t have to leave her here, do we?” Chris pleaded. “We can take her back home with us?”
Tears brimmed in her brother’s eyes, nearly breaking Jill’s heart. Chris had already had too many disappointments in his young life. She hated to deal him another.
“You know there isn’t any place for her at Mrs.
Feldman’s,” Jill said.
“But you heard him,” Chris said. “He’s going to give Tinkerbell to someone who’ll use her for milk!”
“Goats don’t mind being milked, son,” Mr. Humphrey said. “It’s natural.”
“Tinkerbell doesn’t want to stay here!” Chris said. “I know she doesn’t!”
Jill searched her brain for something she could say to calm her brother and came up blank. Her eyes flew to Dan. He nodded at her, as though he had everything under control.
“Tinkerbell doesn’t have to stay here, Chris,” Dan said. “I’ll keep her.”
Even as relief spread through Jill and her brother’s tears started to dry, she recognized that they had put Dan in a terrible position. He couldn’t possibly wa
nt a goat.
“We couldn’t ask you to do that,” she said.
“You didn’t ask. I offered.”
“But didn’t you say goats need companions?” It wouldn’t be fair to him if she didn’t point out the drawbacks. “Isn’t that one of the reasons you contacted Mr. Humphrey?”
“It is,” Dan confirmed. “That’s why I’m buying another goat to keep Tinkerbell company.”
CHAPTER SIX
JILL WIPED AT THE spill on the bar the next night, moving the rag over the surface so quickly she missed a spot and had to do it over again. She hung the rag up in its usual place, then nearly plowed into Chuck Dudza.
“You sure are in a rush to get out of here tonight.” Chuck himself never seemed to be in a hurry, even when the bar he owned was at its busiest. He had a knack for carrying on a leisurely conversation while he filled one drink order after another. Jill liked to think that was also one of her strong points. “Got plans?”
“Not really.” Jill didn’t have plans in the traditional sense. “I’m just eager for some fresh air, is all.”
“We’ve had slow nights many a time and you usually offer to stay and close up,” Chuck pointed out. Darn the man. He was always complaining about how his memory had started to fail when he hit sixty, yet he was sharper than she was.
“You already said you’d close up tonight,” Jill said. “Might I remind you that you’re the one who told me to go home.”
“Didn’t expect you to accept so quick.”
“I don’t get home before midnight very often. I was thinking I could read a little before I went to sleep,” Jill said. “I’m in the middle of All Creatures Great and Small, and it’s hard to put down.”
“Isn’t that book about a vet?”
Jill made sure to take Chris to the library at least once a week, during which time she fed her own reading habit. She usually chose popular fiction, but this week she’d wandered the nonfiction aisles until the old classic had caught her interest.
“Yes,” she said. “A country vet in Yorkshire, England. The book was written almost forty years ago.”
“Interesting you’re reading about a vet.” Chuck grinned. “Would your hurry to get out of here have anything to do with Dan Maguire?”
“Of course not.” Jill felt heat rise to her face. Great. Now Chuck would never believe her.
“I heard you ate at that new pizza place with him last night,” Chuck said.
“We got takeout,” Jill corrected. “And it’s not what you think. Chris was waiting in the car with Tinkerbell and Bluebell.”
“Who the heck are Tinkerbell and Bluebell?”
“Dan’s pygmy goats.” Jill moved in a circular pattern while she answered, maneuvering her body so the bar owner was no longer between her and the exit. “Chris has taken a real shine to them. That’s why we were with Dan last night.”
Chuck winked broadly at her. “If you say so.”
“I do.” She ignored the wink as she backed away from him. Arguing with Chuck when he got something in his head never did any good. “I’ve got tomorrow night off, but I’ll see you Saturday.”
“Have fun,” he called after her.
The air outside had cooled with nightfall, one of the perks of living in Indigo Springs. Back in Atlanta, the nights were often as warm and as humid as the days.
She headed in the general direction of home, changing her usual route slightly so she’d pass by Dan’s house. They hadn’t arranged an assignation, as Chuck seemed to think. She simply wanted to thank Dan in person for the incredibly kind thing he’d done.
She’d searched for the right moment to offer her thanks last night, but it had never come. From the time Dan had purchased the second goat and they’d loaded the animals into his truck, the night had passed in a whirlwind of activity. They’d barely had time to scarf down the pizza.
But now here she was, on the street where Dan lived, with the goats presumably asleep, the same way her brother should be.
Dan’s house was a modest, one-story ranch with a neat lawn and decent curb appeal. The porch light shone like a beacon. The rest of the house was dark except for a glow coming from a room on the far left side.
Probably Dan’s bedroom.
She wondered if he slept in pajamas, boxer shorts or nothing at all. The night suddenly felt warmer.
“This was a bad idea, Jacobi,” Jill muttered to herself.
Of course Dan was getting ready to go to sleep. It was past eleven o’clock and the vet’s office opened by nine. If she rang his doorbell now, he’d think she was there for more than a thank-you.
She was under a streetlight, the worst place if Dan should happen to look out the window. She was about to cross to the opposite side of the street when she heard a motorized sound. Dan’s garage door opened slowly, revealing feet in slides, hair-sprinkled legs left bare beneath a pair of gym shorts, a lean torso covered by a T-shirt, then Dan’s handsome face.
The shorts and T-shirt instantly became tied with nothing at all in her speculation over what he wore to bed.
He started dragging a rubber trash can on wheels to the curb. Her feet felt as though they were stuck in wet cement. She got them loose and tried to jump back into the shadows.
“Jill?” he called. “Is that you?”
She grimaced. Her only choice was to step forward into the full glow of a streetlight. She affected a casual pose and a smile, as though she’d run into him in the full light of day. “Hey, Dan.”
“Hi, Jill.” He finished hauling the can to the curb, then walked toward her. Although Dan looked great in his work clothes, she preferred him this way. The man really did have a set of gorgeous legs. “What are you doing out here?”
That was easy enough to answer. “Walking home from the Blue Haven. I got off early tonight.”
“Isn’t this a few blocks out of your way?”
No use denying what anyone with a sense of direction could figure out. “Yes. Yes, it is.”
She shifted from foot to foot, listening to the cries of the cicadas reach a slow crescendo. He said nothing, waiting.
“Okay. You caught me,” she said. “I’m here because of you.”
The darkness enveloping them lent the situation an air of intimacy and her comments the heavy hint of suggestion. She chewed on her bottom lip. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”
“How do you think it sounded?” His gaze didn’t leave her face.
“Like I saw that light in your bedroom window and got ideas,” she said.
“Did you get ideas?”
Before Jill had plotted to go into hiding with Chris, she’d made it a point to tell the truth. She hated that circumstances had forced her to become a decent liar. Occasionally, however, the skill came in handy.
“I got the idea it was too late to bother you.” There. Technically that wasn’t even a lie. She’d simply neglected to tell him the entire truth.
“Bother me?” Was it her imagination or did his question have sexual undertones? “About what?”
Jill almost groaned. What was the matter with her that she read innuendo into the simplest of questions? She wanted to cry with the cicadas.
“About the goats,” she said. “I didn’t get a chance last night to properly thank you for the wonderful thing you did for Chris. I nearly called you a dozen times today, but this seemed like something I should say in person.”
He shrugged. “I didn’t do much.”
“You must be kidding me.” She took a step closer to him, remembering how he’d come to the rescue. “You’ve got two pygmy goats in your backyard.”
“I’m a vet,” he said. “I’m used to having animals around.”
“Maybe so. But if it weren’t for Chris, you wouldn’t have any goats.” She had to tilt her head to gaze up at him. “Let me reimburse you for what Bluebell cost. I can also chip in for their upkeep.”
“Thanks, but no thanks,” he said in a tone that brooked no argument.
“I pr
omise you I won’t forgot this,” Jill said. “If you ever need a favor, all you have to do is let me know.”
“You don’t owe me anything. I like Chris.” He reached out and captured her hand. Warmth instantly spread through her. “I like his sister, too.”
Her throat suddenly felt parched. She swallowed, wondering why she was leaving her hand where it was.
“Tell you what, if you’re set on paying me back, come inside,” he invited. “I’ll open a bottle of wine and we can talk, get to know each other better.”
Panic flared inside her, and she shook her head. “That’s not a good idea.”
“Whoa,” he said. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. You can trust me, if that’s what you’re worried about. All I’m asking for is wine and conversation.”
She met his eyes, perfectly visible in the moonlight. She believed he wouldn’t push her to sleep with him, yet she couldn’t trust him. Not with any meaningful conversation. Not after she’d been burned twice by people she had faith in.
Her heart jerked and started. She wouldn’t talk of her past if she went inside the house with him. She was less sure of her resolve to stay out of his bed. How had this happened? How had she come by for such an innocent reason and gotten to this point?
“I can’t.” She cast about for a sensible excuse, but her brain felt scrambled with him touching her. She drew her hand away from his. “I’m guiding a white-water trip early tomorrow. I need my sleep.”
His lips quirked, his only sign of disappointment. “I bet it’s beautiful in the mornings on the river.”
Finally, a safe subject.
“The best time to kayak is before anyone is awake other than the herons and the eagles.” Her trip tomorrow morning was at ten, a fact she’d conveniently neglected to tell him, but she sometimes went on short sleep when she kayaked for pleasure. “The sky is almost achingly blue and it’s so quiet the rumble of the white water sounds like thunder.”
“Forget what I said about not calling in a favor.” His voice sounded soft and seductive in the darkness. “I just thought of one.”
Her muscles clenched while she marveled at how easily he’d resurrected the sexual tension between them.
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