“You’ll see.” She followed him out the front door and down the porch steps. Alex was standing in the middle of the front yard scowling up at the roof, and Jack joined him with his arms crossed over his chest.

Becca turned around and glanced up at the goat on the porch roof. “Ron Swanson, get down here right this instant,” she said, clapping her hands together.

The goat merely bleated at her.

“One of you, go grab Rasputin.”

“Ras…who the fuck is Rasputin?” Jack returned.

“The rooster. He’s the only one Ron will listen to.”

“Listen to? He’s a goat. It’s a chicken. Is this a waking dream?” Alex said, his puzzled and slightly horrified gaze never leaving Ron.

“Try waking nightmare,” Jack returned.

“Fine, I’ll get Rasputin. You two stay put and make sure he doesn’t start eating the gutters.”

“How do we do that?” she heard Jack ask as she walked quickly to the chicken coop. But she didn’t have time to explain. She took her gloves out of her pocket and pulled them on, as Rasputin probably wouldn’t be too keen on being grabbed.

He was the only one left after Becca had finally given up the fight against the coyotes. Becca had no idea how Rasputin managed to stay alive, but she liked that inexplicable part of his story. It made impossible things seem possible.

She cooed softly to Rasputin as she entered the coop. He flapped around, trying to avoid her, but she eventually cornered him and managed to grab him, holding her arm around the rooster to avoid as much of his pecking and clawing as she could.

She marched back toward the house. Gabe had joined Alex and Jack and all three men were staring helplessly at the goat on the roof.

“I’ve seen a lot of crazy shit, Becca,” Gabe said as she walked up holding the rooster. “But you officially win.”

Becca smiled but turned her attention the goat. “Ron Swanson. Look who I’ve got.” She held up Rasputin, who flapped his wings until she let him go. He squawked and crowed and Ron bleated in return.

“What the fuck is happening?” Jack said, shaking his head.

“Just wait,” Becca said as Ron started to pace the edge of the porch roof. Rasputin crowed again, starting to strut back toward the coop. Which was when Ron clattered down the slope of the roof and jumped the distance to the ground.

“That did not just happen,” Gabe said, something like awe in his voice.

“Afraid it did,” Becca returned cheerfully, walking toward the animals, who were now circling each other. She had to separate them before Rasputin took a chunk out of Ron.

“Need…help?” Alex offered, clearly hoping the answer was no.

Becca lunged and came up with Rasputin. “Nope. I’m good. Just have to put him back in his coop. Ron can wander a bit. He’s never gotten up on the roof twice in the same day before.”

She heard all the guys muttering, but she ignored them and walked toward the coop.

It wasn’t such a bad way to start the day, all in all. A little animal shenanigans to get the blood pumping, and it never failed to make her laugh when three Navy SEALs looked dumbfounded.

She placed Rasputin in the coop, then exited, locking up behind her. She should probably get Ron in his pen, but she knew he was restless after a winter of not being able to roam very much. Becca turned.

Alex was there, standing outside the coop as though he was waiting for her. He looked so serious her stomach fluttered with nerves.

“Why…why is the rooster named Rasputin?” he asked eventually, knocking any nervousness right out of her.

She grinned. “Well, I was just calling him Rooster at first, because Burt told me to stop naming the chickens since they just kept getting eaten by coyotes. But one day Rasputin got himself in a tizzy and flew into the pond and just kind of sank. So, you know, we figured he was dead. But, weirdest thing, next day he was back crowing up a storm. So, Rasputin.”

Alex started laughing. A real, booming laugh she’d never heard out of him, and it didn’t stop. He kept laughing until she was laughing right along with him.

He scrubbed his hands over his face as his laughter dissipated. “Well, that isn’t how I expected to spend my morning.”

“I hate when that goat gets in the way of drinking my coffee.”