Page 45 of Sweet Madness

She looks adorable, but her attempts don’t faze me. There’s no chance in hell I’m agreeing to adopt any of these furry annoyances. When I remain stoic, she gives up and continues playing with the animals.

Ella’s laughter echoes through the shelter, and I find myself captivated by how she brings joy to everything around her. The animals gather around her, content just to be near her. Her sad eyes when she spoke about broken ones flash through my mind. If only she knew how broken I actually am.

Ella’s laughter pulls me back to the present. She now sits with three small dogs playing between her legs. The animals clearly adore her, just as she is enamored with them. I wonder if the public has any idea how sweet and kind she is. From what I gather online, she’s a carbon copy of her mother and sisters, like she pretends to be someone she’s not to maintain her family’s picture-perfect image.

Anger simmers in my gut as I think of how hard it must be for her to pretend just to make others happy. Is she happy? At least I know she is today. Among the tiny animals, she looks as happy as when she stuffs her face with chocolate cupcakes or dances in the rain.

Fuck. She looks this happy and filled with joy at the ranch too. When around me… I push away the thought, not wanting to dwell on what it means for my sanity. I, on the other hand, feel out of place amidst the chaos of meowing and barking. I’m used to silence and darkness, not colorful corners filled with rescued animals and a hopeful princess who wants to save them all. Yet, here I am, because the girl asked with doe-blue eyes that tug at my dusty heartstrings. When asked if we could enter the pet shelter, I couldn’t refuse. I want to see her smile at me again, just like she did when I took her for a ride through the tulip fields.

Her smiles make me feel things I shouldn’t, and I’m becoming addicted to that feeling. She has this effect on me—making me do things I never cared to do before her. I find myself agreeing to things that make me uncomfortable if it means seeing her happy. And being here makes her happy.

It’s adorable how Ellaiza Kenton, an heiress accustomed to the finest things in life, smiles because of the little things. It blows me away how rare she is.

The clingy dog from before suddenly bounds over, yapping excitedly. The pup bites my pant leg, trying to catch my attention. The tiny fur ball seems as stubborn as the beautiful creature currently watching me like a hawk with a small smile, waiting to see how I’ll react.

With a huff, I bend over and offer my palm, which the dog licks happily, looking smug.

While the dog tries to distract me, a man with dark hair and eyes in his early twenties approaches us with a warm smile. “Hi, I’m Randall. Are you folks looking to adopt?” he asks, focusing on Ella and ignoring me. An ugly feeling swirls in my stomach as Ella engages with the chatty stranger, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm and friendliness. I can’t stop the twinge of jealousy creeping into my chest.

Why the hell is she smiling so big for him? And what kind of name is Randall?

I shift, annoyed, my gaze flickering between Ella and the man, a knot forming in my stomach as I realize how effortlessly she captivates others with her charm and warmth. I try to push aside the feeling, but a small seed of envy takes root in my dusty heart as I silently observe their interaction. How easy it is for the guy to converse with her while it’s so hard for me to get a word out.

The green-eyed monster in me is restless, but then she laughs with her whole chest. It’s a sweet sound that echoes through the room, and pink spreads across her cheeks. She’s blushing for him.

As I stand, lost in thought and wrestling with unwelcome jealousy, a sudden commotion breaks the tension. I’m tackled by a happy ball of white fur. Before I can react, the tiny creature nuzzles against me.

What the hell is this?

Ella’s laughter bubbles forth as she watches the small animal at our feet. “A baby goat!” she exclaims, her eyes twinkling with amusement. She gets up from the floor and walks over to help me untangle myself from the goat’s affectionate embrace.

A goat.

What the hell is a goat doing here? As if I had spoken out loud, Randall, the too-friendly man, looks down at the goat fondly. “This little one,” he begins, his voice tinged with both sadness and pride, “was brought to us severely hurt. It took a lot of care and effort, but we managed to nurse her back to health.” Ella’s smile drops at the revelation, her empathy for the tiny goat evident in her expression.

Kneeling in front of the baby goat, Ella’s eyes soften with compassion as she speaks softly. “Hey there, precious one,” she murmurs. “You’re such a fighter, aren’t you? You’ve been through so much, but look at you now, all strong and brave.” The baby goat nuzzles against her hand, its trust in her evident. “Does she have a name?” Ella asks Randall, not taking her eyes off the tiny goat.

“Poppy,” Randall shares with pride.

“Poppy!” Ella repeats, her voice soft with admiration as she showers the goat with kisses. “What a pretty name. It suits you.” I watch in silence as she interacts with Poppy.

Ella reaches out to stroke Poppy’s fur tenderly. A small smile tugs at my lips as I watch her share a moment of connection with the goat. I’m starting to think this girl is a damn fairytale princess with the way animals gravitate towards her. I’ve been around them most of my life, and some are still assholes to me. Maybe they sense her sweet heart and my barely beating one.

Ella scoops up Poppy, cradling her gently in her arms before planting a tender kiss on the baby goat’s snout. With an affectionate smile, she turns to me, her eyes wide and pleading, her lips forming the perfect pout.

Damn it. Not this again.

She wants the goat.

Shit.

I look at Randall, who’s smiling from ear to ear. Then I glance at Poppy, who seems to be pleading with me too. I open my mouth to say no, but the words get stuck in my throat. I can’t resist Ella’s puppy eyes. With a resigned sigh, I relent, knowing full well that arguing with Ella when she has that look is a battle I’m unlikely to win.

“Fine,” I grumble, with a hint of amusement as I watch Ella’s face light up with joy. “But you’re responsible for her, and she better not ruin my shit.”

Ella cuddles the goat with the biggest smile on her face, nodding. “Oh, you’re coming home with us, girl!”

We leave the shelter shortly after that, Ella cradling Poppy in her arms, talking nonstop, her words overflowing with excitement and gratitude. Despite my initial reluctance and gruff exterior, I always seem to melt around her, unable to resist.

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