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“Stop flirting with me.”
“Oh, yes. There’s nothing sexier than flirting with a woman who has goat poop on her dress.”
I gasped, letting go of the fork so I could examine my dress. It clattered to the ground with an almighty thud that disturbed Winston and earnt me a glare from his usual spot on top of the hay bales.
There was nowayI was wearing a dose of goat shit. Absolutely not. I hadn’t fallen over or brushed against anything, so how was it possible to have it on me?
I scrambled with the material of the skirt, contorting my body this way and that way, peering over my shoulder and twisting my arms into uncomfortable positions to look for the poop Max claimed was on me.
And there it was.
On my bum.
A big smear of brown sludge was on the back of my dress, right where I’d sit down.
How had that happened?
I hadn’t…
Oh.
Ohh.
I’d perched on the gate before I’d felt as though I’d had to help Max.
I rushed over to the gate that stopped the goats escaping their part of the barn and gasped. “How on Earth is there goat shit up there?”
Max’s lips twitched as he glanced between the gate and me. “They’re not exactly toilet trained.”
“No shit!”
“Oh, I think you’ll find there is.”
“Max!” I waved my arms as if I were about to throw something at him, but there was nothing within reach that I could throw to relieve my stress.
Well.
There was the fork I was using to move the poopy hay, but knowing my luck, I’d impale him in the stomach or something.
He laughed, stepping back.
Into a giant pile of goat shit.
It was my turn to laugh as it squelched all over his shoe, and he glared across the barn at me. “Stop it.”
“That’s karma,” I replied, bending over to pick up my fork. “At least it’s just your shoe. I love this dress.”
“I’ll have it dry cleaned,” Max drawled. “Problem solved.”
I stuck my tongue out at him like the mature adult I was and turned around to finish mucking out the area I was working on. This was really not on my bucket list for the day, but I was here now, so… “Don’t you have people to do this for you?”
Max chuckled. “Yes, but he was on holiday where he broke his leg.”
“And you couldn’t get anyone else to do it for a few weeks?”
“There didn’t seem to be much point. It’s only a few weeks.” He glanced at me. “Besides, you’re helping.”
“Oh, funny. That’s the last time I use your library.”
