“You prick,” I snarled while I wiggled my key from my fob. Then I knocked. Hard. Within ten seconds, Miles, our butler, opened the door. His face was impassive, as all good help is, but his brown eyes were sad. He gazed at me standing out in the cold, his wrinkled face as familiar to me as my own mother’s. Probably more so as Miles had been with us since before I had been born. “Am I allowed to come in, Miles?”
He opened his mouth to speak when my father appeared in the doorway. Miles quickly nodded at me and backed away, moving off on silent feet, his black suit impeccable as always. I would miss him. He snuck me treats from the kitchen, helped to free my bugs when Nanny Annie would rampage about them, and walked me around the grounds when my parents were too busy cheating on each other to spend time with their kids. I had no clue if Miles had done the same for Frank Jr., but I rather doubted it. Frank Jr. got all kinds of TLC from the parental units.
“You are no longer welcome in this house,” Dad said, his shoulders lax, his dress casual, his face stony. He was still a handsome man. Pity his soul was ugly.
“Why am I not surprised.” I let out a breath that fogged between us. “You do know that leaving my position in the company to pursue other things isn’t really cause to throw me out into the snow.”
“You have consistently failed me, Decker. Not only did you not get us the contract that we needed so badly for the new well, but you have also taken up with the man who held us up production wise causing major delays, remapping, and countless hundreds of thousands of dollars lost. You let your cock think for you—as your type does—and that is an unforgivable sin.”
“You’re a rotten and despicable human being. I just felt that needed to be said. Why I spent so many years trying to impress you and begging you to love me I do not know. Foolish childish dreams I suppose.” He rolled his eyes. I longed to punch him in the face. “Is Mom in on this?”
“She’s not been informed of this recent deplorable development. I’m sure when she comes home from her latest mindfulness retreat in Malaysia, she will agree with my decision. Your brother is fully onboard and has already chosen your replacement in the company. Miles was kind enough to pack your clothes and personal belongings that you left here when you moved out. Also, since the condo that you live in is in my name, your lease will expire at the end of the month.”
“Wow, that’s some kind of fatherly love right there. That’s fine, though. I’ve already called the moving company and they’re there right now packing my things. I’ll be out of this city and your life by the end of business tomorrow.”
“Then we have nothing more to say to each other. Goodbye, Decker. I hope you’re happy with how badly you have screwed up your life. All of this could have been yours, but you threw it all away for a fag on a farm.”
In all honesty, I didn’t think about it. Truly, my fist just shot out and hit him on the jaw. Pain streaked through my hand all the way to my elbow. Dad’s eyes flared, and he immediately went to his ass right there on the imported Italian marble tiles in our foyer.
“Fuck you, Frank,” I spit the words at him then spun on my heel, rubbing my right hand as I stormed back to my car. Thankfully the car was in my name as were most of my financial holdings. My trust fund was also mine, sitting prettily in the bank since I’d turned twenty-five. I could live off the interest for a few hundred years if need be and not lift a finger. But I had plans for the rest of my life. Shaking out my hand, I glanced back at my familial home one last time. I would never come back. Why would I when I had a man, a goat, and a whole barn overflowing with love to go to? I couldn’t get back home to the farm, and into Acosta’s arms, fast enough.
Epilogue
A year later
“Have you seen the wrapping paper?”
I glanced up from leafing through yesterday’s mail. Acosta was literally roaming around in small circles in the middle of our kitchen. “Or the leftover T-shirts? Or that new box of insulin from the veterinary mail prescription service?”
“The meds are over here.” I patted the box resting beside me on the sofa. “As for the other stuff, look for the T-shirts over in that corner.” I waved a letter at the stack of brown boxes by the woodstove. “Why are you wrapping gifts on Christmas Eve?”
Bitsy lay across my lap, still wearing the little green elf suit she’d had on all day. Christmas with the Critters had been an overwhelming success, netting the rescue over two thousand dollars. Not bad for one day. I was feeling pretty proud. Between my adopt a farm animal idea, the revamps to the barn and beehives, and several other marketing projects over the summer, fall, and winter—hayrides provided by our newest addition Maximus an old, slightly deaf draft horse and an old hay wagon purchased at a farm auction then redone over the summer—our coffers were now full. This was good because the more notoriety the rescue got, the more animals we had taken in.
“Because I haven’t had time to do so until now. You’re running me ragged,” he said, pushing boxes aside in his search for holiday wrap. He did look tired. Sexy as hell in that new flannel shirt and nice tight jeans, hair pulled into a bun with sprigs of mistletoe tucked into it, and the new socks the mayor’s wife had knitted for him. The man was edible.
“It’s a good ragged, though,” I said and smiled across the room at him. Truthfully, the past month had been frantic. The builders had just completed our cabin back in the woods two weeks ago. Then a snow had blown in so we’d been postponed in moving into our new rustic retreat for a week, and then we had to pack, and then it was Christmas week, and then we had this huge promotional/fundraising event. And then, and then, and then. Our lives were so busy. Happy busy, yes, but still busy. Maybe we’d get all of our stuff into the cabin by the beehives before the new year. Fingers and toes crossed. Having a bed without a bar across the middle would be heaven. “When do you want to start planning the Spring Fling Easter Egg Hunt?”
“April?” he tossed out, hooting in glee. “Aha! Wrapping paper! Now to find the scotch tape.”
“Come sit with me. Any of my gifts can be wrapped later. Or, better yet, not wrapped at all and given to me now.” I laid the still unopened envelope on my lap beside the slumbering goat’s head and made grabby hands at my partner. “April is too long to wait. We’ll start in January.”
“Praise be,” he said as he flopped down on my left.
“Blah!” Bitsy scolded, and then went back to sleep.
“She’s a grumpy elf,” I whispered, patting her neck as a fat green pine log snapped in the stove. “She was the star of the day,” I cooed to my favorite goat in the world.
“The bar was pretty low. Once Millicent spit in the mayor’s face, the only way to go was up.”
I snickered. Oh boy, had the mayor been mad. Been there, done that, wiped the partially digested food from my face and then bought the T-shirt.
“Max did an awesome job as a sleigh ride horse,” I pointed out as his arm settled around my shoulders. A sigh escaped me.
“He did. A little slow but steady. Remind me to call the farrier after the holidays.” He leaned over to steal a tiny kiss. I leaned into the smooch, eager for his affections. We’d barely spoken all day aside from yelling at each other to find this, that, or the other. We’d run out of honey within the first hour, and all the kids’ T-shirts with the rescue logo were gone by lunchtime. Cassie would have been so happy to see her dream flourishing. I knew Acosta was happy. I made sure of it. “So what’s this?” He tapped the thick envelope on my leg.
“Mm, something from the state. Probably to do with that application for that retail food license so we can sell the eggs the girls are producing.” I yawned and slowly picked up the envelope to open it. “That new coop coming in the spring will be so nice. No more searching for eggs hither and yon.”
“Seriously. God, I am exhausted.” He yawned as well, then let his head rest against mine. I loved these moments most of all. Well, these moments and the sexy moments. I loved them too. And we had lots of them. We were still rabidly hot for each other.
