Page 24 of One Hundred Humbugs

Relief washed over Becket. He should have known Ruby would understand. In the short time he’d known her, she’d proven herself to be kind and resourceful. “I hate to impose,” he started, but Ruby cut him off witha wave of her hand.

“Don’t be ridiculous. We can’t leave them out there. Now, let’s think. Where can we put a bunch of goats?”

Becket’s eyes swept over the clutter—piles of books, odd knick-knacks, and the inexplicable garden gnomes. Definitely not goat territory, but his mind kept turning.

“Well,” Becket said with a half-smile, “any chance your uncle left you a barn tucked away somewhere?”

Ruby sighed dramatically. “Nope. Guess we’ll just have to bring them all inside.”

Becket raised an eyebrow. “You’re kidding, right?”

Ruby grinned. “It’s not the worst idea. But...” Her face lit up as inspiration struck. “The garage! It’s full of junk, but it’s got a roof and walls. We could clear enough space for the goats.”

Becket nodded, already moving towards the door. The prospect of action, of having a plan, energized him. “It’s worth a shot. Let’s do it.”

The next few hours were a blur of activity. Becket and Ruby braved the storm multiple times, ferrying goats from the pen to the garage. The wind howled around them, snow pelting their faces, but they pressed on. Inside, they cleared space, stacking boxes and shoving old furniture aside to create a makeshift goat hotel. To keep the biting cold at bay, they led each goat in through the side door that opened to the yard, leaving the big garage door firmly shut. The third door, leading into the kitchen, offered a welcome escape to warmth between trips.

By the time they got the last goat settled, both Becket and Ruby were exhausted, covered in snow, and laughing at the absurdity of it all. Becket couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed this much, especially in the face of adversity.

“I can’t believe we just turned your garage into a goatbarn,” Becket said, watching as Houdini immediately started investigating his new surroundings, nosing at boxes and trying to chew on an old tennis racket.

Ruby grinned, reaching out to scratch behind Daisy’s ears. The pregnant goat leaned into her touch, looking far more content than she had in the pen. “Wait until the HOA hears about this. Oh wait, we don’t have one of those out here, do we?”

Their laughter was interrupted by a loud rumble. Becket looked down at his stomach, embarrassed. “Sorry. Guess all this goat wrangling worked up an appetite.”

“Come on,” Ruby said, heading towards the house. “I think we’ve earned some breakfast. I make a mean scrambled egg.”

As they stepped back into the house, Becket marveled at how natural it felt—working side by side, tackling problems, laughing in the face of adversity. It was as if they’d known each other for years, not days. He watched Ruby walk ahead, admiring her determination, her spirit, and the way each step radiated confidence and purpose.

In the kitchen, Ruby busied herself with making breakfast while Becket sat at the table, warming his hands around a mug of coffee. The storm continued to rage outside, but in here, everything was calm and cozy. The contrast was striking, and for the first time in months, Becket experienced a sense of peace settling over him.

“You know,” Ruby said as she set a plate of steaming eggs in front of him, “I think Uncle Peter would have loved this. Turning his garage into a goat sanctuary? That’s right up his alley of weirdness.”

Becket dug into the eggs with gusto. They were delicious, perfectly seasoned and fluffy. “From what you’ve told me about him, I think you’re right. He sounds like he was quite a character.”

“That he was,” Ruby agreed. “I wish I’d known him better.”

They ate in comfortable silence for a while, the only sounds being the clink of forks against plates and the howling of the wind outside. Becket glanced at Ruby, admiring the way the morning light played across her features.

“Listen, Ruby,” Becket said, setting down his fork. “I can’t thank you enough for this. For helping with the goats, for breakfast, for everything.” A lump formed in his throat, overwhelmed by her kindness.

Ruby met his eyes, her expression soft. “That’s what friends do, right? Help each other out?”

Friends. The word warmed Becket more than the coffee ever could. “Right,” he agreed. “Friends.” But even as he said it, he wondered if that word fully encompassed what he was beginning to feel for Ruby.

As the day wore on and the storm showed no signs of letting up, they settled into an easy routine. They checked on the goats regularly, played board games unearthed from Uncle Peter’s collection, and talked for hours about everything and nothing.

Becket spoke more openly than he had in years, sharing stories about his life on the farm, his dreams for the future. Ruby listened attentively, asking thoughtful questions and sharing her own experiences. With each passing hour, the connection between them grew stronger.

By the time evening rolled around, he realized he hadn’t once thought about leaving. The idea of going back to his cold, lonely tent seemed almost absurd now. And when Ruby suggested he take the guest room for the night insteadof braving the storm to return to his tent, he found himself agreeing without hesitation.

Becket relaxed as he lay in bed that night, listening to the wind outside and the occasional distant bleat from the garage. This wasn’t how he’d planned to weather the storm, but somehow, it seemed right.

His last thought before drifting off to sleep was that he’d found more than just shelter from the storm in Aspen Cove. Maybe he’d found a place he could call home. And perhaps, he’d found someone he wanted to share his life with.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The crack of splintering wood echoed through the house, followed by an all-too-familiar bleat. Ruby’s head snapped up from the book she’d been reading, her eyes meeting Becket’s across the living room. They stared at each other in stunned silence.

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