Page 72 of Slow Burn

She sifts through some documents, but clicks her tongue when they don’t reveal what she’s looking for. “It’s like, never-ending.”

“You’ve done a really good job here,” I point out, not because I’m surprised, whatever Lyla Morgan touches turns to pure gold. I say it because I want Lyla to know the obstacles we keep coming up against aren’t her fault. Most people would have tapped out by now.

Her brow is still furrowed as she looks over the papers in her hand. “This isn’t exactly my dream job, don’t know if you could tell.”

“What is your dream job?” I find myself wanting to know everything about Lyla, everything I haven’t been able to ask her while she’s been away from Sage Valley. All the questions that have popped up over the years.

“I went to business school so I could start my own. Not a business, but a non-profit,” she explains, looking up at me. “But with the know-how to make it sustainable, to maximize my impact. I’ve always thought maybe I’d have an animal rescue.”

“You’d be good at that,” I say. “Taking in all the misfits. You’re good with animals. I know Kenny Rogers loves you, and I mean it when I say he hates everyone, so that says a lot about you.”

“Hey, speaking of Kenny Rogers,” she says, looking up at me now. “Why was he standing outside the barn tonight?”

“He usually sleeps behind it, next to the back door. But with the flood, his spot got washed out. He’ll figure himself out. Kenny Rogers always does.”

Her mouth twists to one side, her eyebrows pinching together. “I don’t know, I’m worried about him.”

“He can find his way into the barn. I always leave one door open at night in case he needs shelter,” I tell her.

“He’ll never go in there. He only ventured inside the other night because of the storm. And because I was there,” Lyla says. “Willow and Bandit are mean to him.”

“I think Kenny Rogers brings it on himself,” I retort. He’s such a shit, I’m sure he antagonizes them in some way.

But Lyla breezes past my point. “Maybe we should bring him inside for tonight.”

I let out a huff of laughter. “I’m not bringing Kenny–”

I stop myself from mocking Lyla’s idea when I see the true concern etched on her face, the way her eyes shine like she might start crying, thinking about him all alone in the night.

Lyla may be a lot for some people, but all of her feelings are intense, including all the love and care and compassion she gives to every single creature she encounters.

“I’ll bring him inside,” I concede, standing up to go get him.

Her face brightens tenfold, and she jumps up off the floor and throws herself at me, wrapping me in a hug and planting a warm kiss on my stubbled cheek. “Thank you.”

“You keep looking for the insurance policy, I’ll be back.”

I leave her to keep working, and head out into the night. I find Kenny Rogers, still standing under the lamp post, and consider how I’m going to corral him into the house. He’s more of an outdoor goat, as are most goats, so I’m surprised when he follows me in with little difficulty.

Lyla has a makeshift bed for him in the corner of the office, a few blankets folded in a corner.

“He’s going to eat those,” I say.

“Nah.” She scratches Kenny Rogers between the horns and he closes his demonic eyes. “You wouldn’t do that, would you, Kenny?”

And then he lays down on the blankets and makes himself at home, like a fucking domesticated dog. Like he’s a cloven hoofed golden retriever.

“I found it, by the way,” Lyla says, tucking Kenny Rogers under a blanket, and pointing over at the desk.

“And?” I pick it up, but in the corner of my eye I see Lyla wince.

“I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

Chapter 28

Lyla

“Wait for your shot. You’re throwing too early,” Nash hollers as another one of Beck’s throws misses the steer. He turns Willow around and does a victory lap of the ring. She throws her head as if she’s just as frustrated at the rest of us watching Beck practice.