“Mostly for the company,” he said, his voice low.
I looked away, unable to meet his eye. Was he flirting with me again? God. Why couldn’t he just be an unapproachable grump all the time?
He wanted to talk. I could sense it, but I wasn’t ready. Not after the week I’d had. I was too wound up, too anxious, and I had too much on my mind. I’d say the wrong thing and destroy this lovely little thing between us.
Though maybe that would be a blessing. Chloe was right. I didn’t have the luxury of distraction right now. I couldn’t. But I wanted to sit with the warm memory of last weekend for a little longer. The tiny glimmer of that good, real, fun moment was keeping me going while the world caught fire around me.
A series of wild screams and shouts stole our attention before he could say more.
I whipped around, searching for danger.
But it wasn’t danger. At least the kind I’d been concerned about.
It was Logan, the veterinarian who looked like a Viking, striding toward us with two small goats on leashes.
“Logan,” Josh growled as the kids sprinted toward him.
“I brought goats,” he said cheerfully.
I didn’t know him well, but between the man bun, the multiple earrings, the height, and the hoodie with a picture of a raccoon on it that saidI choose violence, he certainly had, as Ellie would say, a vibe.
Wayne harumphed beside me like he was already over it.
Maggie pushed everyone out of the way, squealing with delight. “Can I pet them?”
“Sure,” Logan said. “Hold your hand out like you would for a dog.”
“Why did you bring baby goats?” Josh asked.
His friend gave him an unbothered smile. “They’re not babies. They’re dwarf Nigerian goats. Huge personalities in tiny bodies.”
“What are their names?” one of the other kids asked.
“This one’s Calvin.” Logan lifted the leash connected to the harness clipped around one goat’s body, then did the same with the other. “And this one’s Hobbes.”
Josh crossed his arms and glared at him. “You still haven’t explained why Calvin and Hobbes are here.”
“Oh. Yeah.” He crouched, showing the kids how to scratch the goats’ ears. From what little I knew about him, he was some kind of animal whisperer. A revered veterinarian with a quirky personality. “They’re recovering from stress. Rescued them a few days ago from a place up north. They need environmental enrichment.”
The big, burly man beside me grunted. “That doesn’t sound promising.”
“They need socialization and they’re super chill. Just don’t scream or startle them.”
Josh’s eye twitched, making me giggle. This was objectively funny. Especially because they were wearing colorful leashes and harnesses, like tiny, stocky dogs.
Wayne, who remained by my side, huffed, unimpressed.
With a smile, I patted his head. “It’s okay, boy. You’re still my favorite.”
He responded by tipping his head up and giving me a soulful look.
“Mama,” Julian said without looking away from the goats. “They have rectangle-shaped pupils.”
Logan held out a fist for a bump. “Very observant.”
My heart exploded just a little. Julian touching an animal he’d never encountered before, one that smelled and probably felt strange? His therapists would be impressed by this exposure exercise. Not that I could take any credit.
“Josh has a lot of space,” Maggie said. “And I’ll do all the necessary research for their care. We can adopt them.” She finished off the statement with a winning smile.
