“Oh Jesus,” I muttered. “Yeah. She’ll come with me. Okay?”
“Can we have pancakes?”
“Yes. We’ll have anything you want. Does that work?”
Instead of responding, Gennie slammed the door and ran down the hall. Any hope of lazy Sunday morning sex just flew right out the window.
“Well. That happened.” Shay patted my shoulder before climbing out of bed. “I’m going to borrow a shirt. Okay?”
Still staring at my phone, I said, “Everything I have is yours.”
“That seems excessive,” she said from inside my closet.
“It’s not.” I pulled on boxers and jeans as I scowled at text after text from folks around town sayingCongratulations!and nothing more. What the fuck was everyone congratulating me for? Had to be a mix-up.
Shay stepped out of the closet wearing last night’s jeans and one of my button-down shirts. She had it knotted at her waist and the sleeves folded up to her elbows, and I couldn’t find it in me to care about whoever the fuck was at my door first thing in the damn morning.
“Come over here.” I beckoned her closer but she wagged a finger at me. “I’m not joking, wife.”
“We have things”—she waved both hands at the door—“to deal with. Let’s do that first.”
I never wanted her to wear anything but my shirts. And I wanted to rip this one off her.
She motioned to the phone in my hands. “Do you have any idea what’s going on?”
“No.” I sighed. “I don’t know.”
Shay finger-combed her hair as we descended the stairs. Gennie was parked in front of the door, sword in hand and eye patch on her wrist.
“Mr. Bones is bringing the goats up for yoga,” Gennie said, pointing her sword toward the window.
I glanced outside and spotted half a dozen pickup trucks and at least ten of Little Star’s four-wheelers. Regardless of the texts, this had all the markings of a farm disaster. “I really hope we don’t have cows wandering the town,” I said under my breath as I opened the door.
I didn’t get a chance to ask about cows or downed sections of fence because most of my staff—including Bones and four goats—sent up a cheer when Gennie, Shay, and I stepped outside. Everyone was there. Nyomi, Wheatie, the farm stand crew. And they were holding bouquets of flowers and balloons. Gail Castro clutched two bottles of champagne by the neck.
Gennie ducked behind me and buried her face in my t-shirt. Shay smiled but cut a confused glance in my direction.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Nyomi shouted. When I didn’t respond, she added, “That you guys got married!”
“That we—” The words evaporated off my tongue.
A strangled noise squeaked out of Shay. “Noah,” she whispered. “Say something.”
“Fuck.”
chaptertwenty-four
Shay
Students will be able to perform under pressure.
If there wasone thing small towns did with blinding efficiency, it was circulating hot gossip. I had no idea what catalyzed it from secret to gossip but there were far too many people—and goats—around to worry about that right now.
“We’re just so happy for you,” a woman said as she pushed a bouquet of flowers toward me.
“We were starting to think poor Noah would never find a nice girl,” someone added. “He’s such a sweetheart.”
If only they knew that sweetheart was a feral animal in bed.
