“Where’s the spare room?” she asked, and I could see the change—that my silence had been enough to tilt her into self-consciousness.
I pointed down the hall. She went.
Nickel followed her, tail swaying, head down.
I stood in the kitchen and let them go, because following a woman you’d met two hours ago and who’d clearly been through some shit seemed like exactly the thing that would spook her. She didn’t seem like she spooked easy, yeah…but I wasn’t going to test it.
As far as I was concerned, I was going to be the safest person she’d ever been around.
I’d just met her…and I wanted to protect her.
She came back in a minute, that soft and hesitant smile back.
“It’s good,” she said. “It’s really good.”
I nodded. “There’s a deadbolt on the bedroom door. Interior side, from back before Peg and Adam put an actual latch and knob on it. Just..want you to know that you shouldn’t feel pressed to come out or anything. You’re safe here.
Her tongue darted out to slide across her lips, and I hated myself for the fact that I noticed she was beautiful. When I’d first seen her, she looked like such a wild thing…but now she looked like a person, I could see it.
Yeah.
Beautiful.
“Thank you,” she said. “Now…I don’t really have anything. Are there?—”
“Haven’s bringing over some of her and Millie’s spare clothes,” I said. “They might be a little big on you, but it’ll do. Figured I’d introduce you to the goats in the meantime.”
Her eyes brightened. “Goats…I thought I’d heard them over this direction every so often. You have a lot of them?”
I grinned. “Peg does. I’m just their temporary shepherd.”
Then her smile got bigger. “Okay,” she said. “Lead the way, shepherd.”
We went out the back door and the Hill Country opened up in every direction—cedar trees, live oaks, and limestone, the grasses gone brown in the August heat, the air smelling like dust and resin. The creek wasn’t visible from here but you could hear it, feel the cool air it gave off.
Willa stopped on the porch step, looking not at the landscape, but at the goats.
There were seven of them in the near pasture, small and busy and painted in various shades of white, brown and black. They all stopped what they’d been doing to look at her. Dolly—Aunt Peg’s favorite, the de facto leader of their strange little flock—put both hooves on a stump to make herself look taller.
“Willa, meet the goats,” I said.
Her hands flew up to cover her mouth. “They’retiny.”
“It’s the only reason we’ve got ‘em,” I chuckled. “Peg’s pets—she claims they’re good for trimming the lawn, but I think she really just likes watching their antics.”
“Are they friendly?”
I shrugged. “If they like you.”
Willa carefully walked over to one of the closest goats and extended her hand in a fist. The goat sniffed it daintily and then allowed her the privilege of petting it.
“I love them,” Willa whispered.
“Don’t let ‘em fool you.” I leaned on the post. “Dolly’ll eat your shoelaces if you’re not paying attention.”
Willa laughed. “Guess it’s a good thing I didn’t bring my own shoes.”
“So you’re willing to sacrificemyboots to the goat goddess?”
