“Comfortable?” he murmurs.
“Mmhmm,” I squeak as I fire the Honda up.
Chip yelps in excitement, and I make him sit on the back so I can drive.
Zane’s arms wrap around me as I shift into first.
We take off down the driveway, and it only takes a couple of minutes to reach the end of the lane. Luckily, this four-wheeler’s lights work—unlike the other one I have back at my parents’ place.
And there they are. Five goats are lying in the middle of the road, as if this is the spot where they’re gonna sleep. I shift down and pull onto the road, swerving to go around the group as widely as possible.
I’m not used to someone else being on the Honda with me, besides Chip—who’s used to my erratic driving—and when we doour little swerve, Zane swings far to the right and nearly takes me off the Honda with him.
“Sorry about that,” he mutters. “Do you wanna leave me here so you can turn them in?”
“That sounds great,” I tell him.
He climbs off and stands in the middle of the road to keep the goats from going farther that way. I turn around and pull the Honda into the ditch, blazing past the goats to get ahead of them and turn them back toward the driveway.
I let Chip off, and he’s shaking with excitement. The dog should get tired at some point in his life, but he never seems to.
The goats start running straight toward Zane. He holds his arms out to look kind of big, and all of them turn down the driveway, except for the billy goat. Zane has to jump out of the way before the goat slams into his legs, and he makes a frantic grab at one of the horns as the goat tries to go blazing by.
It’s a good thing Zane is so sturdy, because that goat would have wiped me out. He has big, curly horns and a mean look in his eye. But Zane holds the goat there while I drive forward.
“He’s got a lovely personality,” Zane says wryly.
The goat tries to shake loose, but Zane is more stubborn.
“I’m glad he didn’t take out your kneecaps,” I say with a laugh.
“Is he like this all the time?”
“He has his moments,” I tell him. “Sometimes, he’s nice and friendly. Other times, he’s trying to bust your chops.”
Zane drags the stubborn goat over to the four-wheeler and lifts him up, tipping him onto the back rack.
He’s not a small billy goat. Doing that move would require some finagling on my part, and Zane lifted him up like it was no big deal.
“This guy stinks so bad.” Zane coughs to exaggerate his point.
“I know. I’m sorry. You’re probably gonna smell like a billy goat for the next six weeks now.”
He shakes his head. “This is why I do cows and not goats.”
“Because you have a sensitive sniffer?” I tease him.
A hand grabs my face, and the horrible goat smell is inescapable.
“Zane!” I shriek, throwing an elbow back and catching him in the ribs.
“Now who’s sensitive?” He laughs, pulling his hand back. “They seem like a group of menaces.”
“Well, I’ll tell you, this isn’t the first time these goats have gotten out, and I’m beginning to agree with you on not being a goat person.”
“Why do you have these?”
“I just wanted some control, and I thought I’d get a few. Then I figured if I had a few, I should get a billy goat. That way, I could have adorable baby goat kids.”
