I help.
"Here," I say, moving to cut off Buttercup's path to the embers.“If we box her in?—”
“Don’t box her in!”Sage calls, already skidding in socks across the hardwood.“She gets stressy when cornered!”
“How am I supposed to look non-threatening to a goat?”
“Try not being six-two and glowering.”
I crouch, feeling ridiculous, and immediately realize that looking "non-threatening" to a baby goat is significantly harder than debugging a corrupted firewall.
Buttercup eyes me with what I can only describe as skepticism, my charging cable still dangling from her mouth like a very expensive cigarette.
"Good goat," I say, feeling like an idiot."Nice goat.Please don't eat my electronics."
Buttercup tilts her head, considering my request, then promptly decides to make a break for it.She bolts past me, heading for the registration desk where someone I hadn't noticed before lets out a strangled squeak.
"Mira!"Sage calls."It's okay, she's friendly!"
But "Mira"—who I assume is the desk clerk—has apparently decided that discretion is the better part of valor and disappeared entirely behind the desk with a small crash that suggests she took some office supplies with her.
"Is she...?"I start.
"Goat phobia," Sage explains, now army-crawling across the lobby floor in pursuit of Buttercup.“She’s fine with cows, pigs, even alpacas.But goats?Full system shutdown.”
"And you hired her to work at an inn that hosts goat yoga?"
"I hired her before I got desperate enough to host goat yoga," Sage says, making a grab for Buttercup, who evades capture with the grace of a tiny ninja."Life is about adaptation."
Buttercup, apparently deciding that chaos is more fun with multiple participants, suddenly changes direction and heads straight for me.I'm still crouched in what I hope is a non-threatening position when thirty pounds of enthusiastic goat launches itself in the air.
Right.At.Me.
I hit the ground with a thud that’s half grunt, half masculine defeat.The goat lands square in my lap and sniffs my glasses like she’s assessing their resale value.
"Well," I say, staring into large brown goat eyes that are uncomfortably close to my face."This is new."
Sage appears beside us, slightly out of breath."She likes you."
“Lucky me.”
“No, really.She has a sixth sense about people.If Buttercup approves, you’re probably not a serial killer.”
“High bar.”
I’m still trying to process the idea that my character is being evaluated by livestock when Buttercup decides my glasses need cleaning and gives them a helpful lick.
I freeze.“Okay.How do I...exit this situation without offending her royal hoofness?”
“Slowly,” Sage says, leaning in close.Her fingers brush mine again as she scoops up Buttercup, and just like that, she’s in my space.
Unlike the short-haired terror being passed between us, Sage Winters smells nicer.Much nicer.
Like lavender and warm linen and something else I can’t place.
“There we go.”Her voice has a smile in it.“Crisis averted.”
I clean my glasses with the edge of my shirt, staring.“So...this happen a lot?”
