Page 22 of Salty Pickle

She was in there, and now, they’ve let loose of her again.

The pain in the ass interloper thinks she’ll duck by me again, but as she navigates the narrow lanes between cubes, I throw myself in her way.

“I wouldn’t do that!” someone says right as her hind legs kick out, nailing me in the balls.

I can’t stop my long, rather impressively loud, “Fuuuuuck” from drawing everyone’s attention a second time. I drop to my knees.

“She doesn’t have a leash or anything,” Ian says, run-skipping around my body to go after her.

Several others follow him. I can’t move yet, the fire in my groin showing no signs of ebbing.

A woman approaches. “Are you okay, Mr. Armstrong?”

I nod. “Go find the goat.”

“Who does she belong to?” she asks.

I don’t even know how to explain that. I wave her on. “Just go.”

Only when the cubes have cleared out, the entire tech department disappearing down the hall, do I let out another squeal of pain.

That damn goat.

This damn day.

It’s never going to end.

7

LUCY

The pain darting around my oversized belly gets more manageable as I pass the elevators and turn toward the noise that I’m pretty sure means Matilda has gone that way.

When I turn into a new hallway, I spot her! She races toward me like hell is on her heels.

I kneel and scoop her into my embrace. She trembles like a newborn.

“Poor baby girl. Are you okay?” I stroke her head.

She startles as the thunderous pound of feet approach in the hall. There must be a dozen people in khakis barreling toward us.

Matilda tenses like she might take off again, but I hold her firmly.

“Everyone stop!” I call out. “Think of this sweet girl!”

And they do, bunching up together several yards away like a human accordion.

When the hall has quieted, I turn Matilda to face them. “Matilda, these are the wonderful workers of Court’s company. I’m sure we’ll get to know them all.”

I look up at them. “You can introduce yourselves one at a time. That’s all she can handle.”

They look at each other as if unsure of what to do.

“Come on now. Matilda never forgets a smell. If she likes you, she’ll put her head down. If she’s glaring at you, watch out, because she might butt you with her head.”

This sends a ripple of laughter through the hall.

A young woman in a gray skirt approaches first. Her chin-length hair slides forward as she bends down to extend a hand to Matilda. “Hello, Matilda, I’m Penny.”

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