“Seth,” Raphael raises his voice.
Seth practically bolts out the front door, leaving me a little breathless. I glance at Jude for a heartbeat, but I can’t stare too long, or I really will melt. So, I center my gaze on Raphael. Better to be scared shitless than wet and swooning. My insides warm with pride when I think of how Rory will be shitless by morning.
Even Vincent seems lighter, eyeing me more. The second I start to wipe up the counter, a strong hand covers mine. I flinch as his body overthrows mine, bulky muscles dominating me.
My breath catches when I summon the courage to look up at the hoodie-wearing giant. He takes the sponge from me and chucks it into the sink, staring down at me with his warm, brown eyes—so heated, I’m caught up in his gaze. And the way my hand tingles beneath his touch.
“Vincent,” Raphael interrupts. He still hasn’t moved from the wall. “Take Briella to meet ourotherfamily members. Jude will clean up.”
Jude brings more dishes to the sink, winking at me. “I always clean up. Go on, Babydoll.”
Vincent doesn’t look at him, but judging by how he tenses and looks at me, he’s not about to argue. I swallow a hard knot, wondering what Raphael means by their other family. Maybe…the animals?
Before I can part my lips to ask, Vincent hauls me with him. I rush to keep up with his massive stride as he leads me out of the cabin.
The ground is cold, and I’m still barefoot. Goosebumps break out all over my skin since the sundress doesn’t provide much warmth.
Every step reminds me of my wounds as Vincent leads me past the cluster of five cabins. Their chimneys puff lazy ripples ofsmoke into the cold morning air. Raphael’s must be the largest one in the center, surrounded by the other four. A rain barrel sits beneath each sloped cabin roof, some already brimming. A plastic pipe funnels runoff from the gutters.
I pay attention to my surroundings, knowing I’ll need to learn the environment if I want to escape.WhenI escape, I correct myself.
Stacked, corded firewood sits neatly under handmade awnings, split and sorted by size. Seth’s handiwork, I imagine.
The smell of wood smoke and damp pine fills the air. Thick redwoods tower over the area, cloaked in fog.
We pass a crude, fenced garden wrapped in netting. There’s a small hoop house, too, just big enough for seedlings or herbs. Fog covers the glass panels. Overall, Jude was right. Their produce-tending could use a facelift. Not that I should be thinking about that when I won’t be staying longer than a couple of weeks.
We cross a narrow path, freckled by autumn leaves, the trees thinning, until we reach the far east side of the compound, where a barn sits. The smell changes. Earthier. Muskier. Like hay, earth, fur, and heat. Connected to the barn is a fenced-in pen full of curious, bleating goats.
An unexpected warmth spreads in my chest as Vincent leads me to the pens. His steady boots crunch the straw. He doesn’t talk much, which I appreciate. With him, silence isn’t uncomfortable. It justis.
The brisk wind catches my curls, casting them about my face and chilling my skin.
“These are our kids,” he says, motioning toward a pen where a dozen goats blink at me with judgmental eyes. He has no hesitation about hopping over the fence where they gather around him.
I stay behind the fence, but one approaches, bleating like it’s testing whether I’m friend or foe. I huff a breathy laugh and slowly stretch my hand to her. “They’re cuter than I expected.”
“Wait till you feed them.” He reaches into a nearby bin hanging from the fence and scoops out a handful of pellets, placing some in my palm and showing me how to hold my hand flat. “Like this. Don’t curl your fingers or they’ll nip you.”
I follow his lead, stretch my hand out beyond the fence, and immediately get ambushed by the hungriest goat in the bunch, a bloated white-bellied diva who nuzzles my hand with more entitlement than affection.
“She’s pregnant,” Vincent explains, a soft edge sneaking into his voice as he gently pats her belly. “Due any day now. Temperamental as hell, but she’s a good mama.”
Smiling, I rub the side of her neck, feeling her warmth, the steady thrum of life just beneath the surface.
“What a good girl…” I coo. “Carrying something so important.” An ache fills my chest, stabbing deep with the understanding. It willneverhappen to me.
Vincent watches me. Doesn’t speak. Just…sees me. I also noticed how he lit up when he saw the goats.
After a minute, I ask, “Why did Raphael want you to bring me here?”
He leans against the barn wall with multiple goats vying for his attention. “Because I take care of the livestock.”
I press my lips into a tight seam, staring him down because he knows that’s not what I meant.
After a few heartbeats of our stare down, he heaves a sigh and cracks his heavy-tattooed neck to say, “Because we trust him with our lives. He always knows what to do.”
I squint. “Even when that includes…me?”
