As we leave the diner together, I catch several people watching us with interest. The rumor mill is definitely going to be working overtime. But between my dad’s alleged secret romance with the town gossip and whatever chaos Rita’s planning next, holding hands with a McCoy seems like the least of our problems.
“Will you be at the irrigation meeting?” Jesse asks as we reach our trucks.
“Wouldn’t miss it. Someone needs to keep my dad under control.”
“My money’s on your dad throwing the first punch.”
“My money’s on your dad provoking it.”
“Deal.” He grins and gets in his truck. “Try to keep Rita from eating anything expensive between now and then.”
“No promises.”
As I drive home, I can’t help but think about all the secrets piling up in Cedar Ridge. Dad’s mystery romance, whatever’s happening between me and the McCoy brothers, and who knows what else is brewing beneath the surface of this supposedly simple small town.
One thing’s for sure, when these secrets finally come out, and they always do in Cedar Ridge, the explosion is going to be stunning.
12
Boone
The Cedar RidgeGoat Agility Competition is exactly as weird as it sounds, which is why I entered Rita without telling Callie. Sometimes you need to embrace the ridiculousness of our lives, and what’s more ridiculous than goat athletics?
The event’s being held at the fairgrounds, the same place where Rita first brought our families together with her chili-destroying rampage. Full circle, when you think about it. Back to the scene of the crime. Literally.
“Why are we here?” Callie asks, looking around as I lead her to the registration tent. She seems relaxed today, laughing at something Jesse just texted her about the irrigation meeting coming up.
“We’re supporting local agriculture,” I say, stalling.
“You don’t like agriculture. You once said plants were boring and dirt was just ‘outside dust.’”
“I’ve grown as a person.”
“You’ve grown more suspicious is what you’ve grown.”
That’s when she sees the banner: “FIRST ANNUAL CEDAR RIDGE GOAT AGILITY CHAMPIONSHIP—MAY THE BEST GOAT WIN!”
Her eyes narrow to dangerous slits. “Boone McCoy, what did you do?”
“I may have entered Rita in a small, harmless competition that she’s definitely going to win because she’s athletic and coordinated and?—”
“Rita thinks coordination is what other goats do while she’s eating their equipment.”
“Hidden talents, Callie. She’s got hidden talents.”
“She’s got hidden stomach contents from eating things she shouldn’t. That’s not the same thing.”
But it’s too late to back out now because Mrs. Delaney is approaching with a clipboard and the expression of someone who takes goat agility very seriously. She’s wearing a vest with OFFICIAL printed on it, which seems excessive for a goat competition but very on-brand for Cedar Ridge.
“Thompson! McCoy! So glad you could make it. Rita’s in heat three.” She pauses with a coy smile. “Interesting that you came together. Very interesting. I’ll make a note.”
She scribbles on her clipboard. I lean over and see she’s written “TOGETHER AGAIN—PROGRESSING???” with three question marks.
“We didn’t come together,” Callie protests. “We arrived at the same location at approximately the same time through completely independent transportation methods.”
“Heat three. Don’t be late. The judges don’t tolerate tardiness. They once disqualified a goat for sneezing during the ‘stay’ portion of the course.”
We head to the warm-up area where approximately twenty goats are milling around with their owners, most of whom look way too serious about this. There’s a woman in matching athleisure with her goat, both wearing purple. A man who’s been training his goat with a whistle and flash cards. A teenage girl doing yoga poses while her goat copies her, which, I have to admit, is pretty impressive.
