He was surrounded. Completely outnumbered. A massive warrior-looking alien being bullied by fluffy glowing livestock, and he seemed happier than I’d seen him all day.
I put my hand over my mouth.
Not because I was going to laugh.
Because I might have made a sound I didn’t want to examine.
James would have hated them.
The thought came out of nowhere and hit hard enough that my good mood cracked straight down the middle.
He would have hated the noise. The mess. The way they demanded attention without caring whether it was convenient. He would have stood there with that flat look on his face until I stopped smiling. He would have made some comment about how childish it was, and I would have pretended not to care, and then later I would have cared in private.
My fingers tightened on the edge of the sink.
No.
He didn’t get to be here.
James didn’t know where I was. He didn’t know about Kazan, or the cottage, or the goats, or the star-figs glowing in jars.
He didn’t get to stand in this kitchen with me and ruin things that had nothing to do with him.
Outside, the fat goat charged Kazan again.
This time he didn’t pick it up. He opened his arms and let it slam into his chest. Then he made a dramatic grunt and dropped to one knee like he’d been defeated.
The goat put both front hooves on his shoulder and bleated in triumph.
I laughed.
I couldn’t help it.
The rest of the goats swarmed him. They climbed over his legs, chewed his shirt, and shoved their noses into his hands. He let them. He just knelt there in the grass, laughing under a pile of small, obnoxious animals that clearly adored him.
Something inside me went soft in a way I didn’t trust.
He was too big. Too strong. Too much. Everything about him should have made me nervous. Itdidmake me nervous. I wasn’t stupid enough to pretend otherwise.
But he was gentle with them.
Not performatively gentle. Not careful because someone was watching. Or at least, I didn’t think he knew someone was watching. He handled them like he knew exactly how much strength he had and exactly how little of it he needed.
That was dangerous information.
Not dangerous like James had been dangerous. Not sharp. Not cruel.
Worse, maybe.
Because part of me was filing it away. Kazan laughing and scratching a goat between its horns. Tossing one into the air softly enough that it came back begging for more.
Evidence.
I hated that my brain used that word.
Evidence that a man could be enormous and not use that as a threat, that hands big enough to crush things could also be careful.
Maybe I had stepped into something I wasn’t prepared for at all.
