Page 110 of The Goat Next Door

I turn back, stepping into her space one last time. I take the knife off the counter, cut another wedge of the cheese, and eat it right in front of her, holding her gaze until she blinks.

“Keep the crock covered,” I say. “I’m coming back after. And if you eat it all… you’re going to owe me, Emmy. And trust me, I’m going to make sure you pay in full.”

She rolls her eyes, but her hands are trembling as she folds her arms across her chest. “Get out of my kitchen, hot cheese stealing neighbor. Go move your logs.”

I laugh and walk out into the sunlight.

I’m going to lose my mind, I think. And it’s going to be the best damn thing that’s ever happened to me.

29

Ember

“What was made with care still spoils without attention.”

— Dairy Log

The heat in the kitchen is sticky and heavy, the kind of humidity that makes my clothes velcro to my skin the second I stop moving. I have the ancient box fan sitting on the floor, whirring on its highest setting, but all it’s doing is pushing the warm, milky air around the room in circles.

I’m so hot I feel like I’m melting from the inside out.

My brain is completely fried.

I’ve tried to wash the cheesecloth twice, and both times I forgot I’d already rinsed them and just stood there staring at the soapy water like a total idiot.

I need someone to talk to before I start arguing with the goats just to hear a voice that isn’t the echo of my neighbor currently taking up every spare inch of my head.

I grab my phone and dial Amy.

She picks up on the third ring.

“Hey, stranger,” she says. “Are you alive? Did the livestock stage a coup?”

“Amy,” I say, leaning my lower back against the sink. “Listen to me. I know we’re not like… super duper best friends forever who share a diary, but you are the only person within a fifty-mile radius who won’t tell everyone what I’m about to say.”

The line goes dead silent for a second. “Okay, you sound insane. What happened? Did you set the barn on fire?”

“No,” I hiss, dropping my voice even though the house is completely empty. “But the Brooks situation has… progressed. Like, significantly progressed. And you have to swear on your students that this stays between us. No one can know. Not the post office people, not Marge, nobody.”

A loud clatter comes through the speaker, like she just dropped a tray of silver beads. “Wait, what? The hot, grumpy fire chief Brooks? I thought it was just a fun thing we made up.”

“Yes, him,” I say, my face instantly burning hotter than the room. “We… it happened. Well, it started earlier but then this morning he was over here testing the batch of goat cheese, and Amy, he boxed me against the counter and told me I tasted better than the cheese and then his fire radio went off because some birch trees fell on Route Nine.”

Amy lets out a sound that is half-shriek, half-cough. “Oh my god. Emmy. You broke him for real?”

“I didn’t break him! He broke me! He’s like… a tactical sniper with his words, Amy. He just stares with those gray eyes and says these low, horrible, perfect things that make my knees turn into literal dishwater. And then he just walks away to move logs! He told me he’d come by after work, and I’m sweating so bad just waiting for the truck to pull into the lane.”

“Wow,” Amy says, and I can hear the massive grin in her voice. “Your mother’s romance novels have nothing on this. But Emmy, seriously—be careful. Make sure this is something you both want. I’m all for a hot night—that you describe to me in great detail—but I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I’m being careful,” I mutter. “It’s just… it’s a lot. He’s a lot.”

“Keep me posted,” she says, her voice softening into something genuinely sweet. “And put some ice on your face, city girl. You sound like you’re about to combust.”

We hang up, and the silence settles back into the kitchen, thicker than before.

⋆ ✦ ⋆

By seven o’clock, the sun is finally dropping behind the western ridge, turning the sky a dusty, bruised apricot color. The humidity hasn’t let up, but the air has taken on that cool, sharp edge that comes from the mountain trees.