Page 112 of Forever To Me

I glare at my horse, who looks far too pleased with himself. “Maximus, I swear to God?—”

“Has terrible timing?” she offers, grinning.

I sigh, adjusting the reins, trying to ignore the fact that I was about two seconds away from doing something stupid. "Come on, Red," I mutter. "Let’s get you home."

She doesn’t argue. But as we turn the horses around, the air between us is different now.

Like she knows.

Like I know.

“Hey, Red, I have a delivery coming today at around noon. Can you be available?” I ask as she stirs a pan of eggs on the stove for breakfast burritos.

“Sure, what are you having delivered?” she looks up curiously. She has on one of my flannel shirts over some leggings. And I will never get tired of her stealing my shirts.

I lean in closer and whisper, “Baby goats. But don’t tell Mack. It’s a surprise.”

Her eyes widen, “What? Oh my gosh, no way!”

“Way. She’s been asking for them for a while now. She’s probably forgotten by now. But they’re coming. She’ll be excited.”

“Heck, I’m excited, Walker,” she says excitedly. “You know you’re going to have an entire zoo by the time she’s done asking, right?”

I roll my eyes playfully. “Not happening. Just a few goats, Red. It's really not that big of a deal.” I got them because they’ll be good to clean up the weeds around the property, and plus, they did look really cute in the picture.

Later that evening, I pull into the driveway, already knowing something’s wrong. For starters, the flowerpots on the porch are tipped over. The flowers that were planted in them are gone, and dirt is everywhere.

Rip Heeler and Pickles run around in wild circles, barking their heads off.

And there are goats. Everywhere. So many goats.

I grip the steering wheel and take a slow breath. What. The. Holy. Hell.

Then the screen door swings open—and a goat sprints out of my house.

Out. Of. My house.

Maggie, sitting comfortably on the porch like she’s enjoying a damn TV show, sips her sweet tea and tips her glass toward the chaos.

“Welcome home, Walker. I see you got some goats.”

I climb out of the truck, eyes scanning the battlefield.Horror fills me. What the hell? One goat stands proudly on the hood of Violet's car, another perches on the porch railing, and?—

Jesus Christ. Another is on the roof of the barn.

“Okay,” I say slowly. “I’m afraid to ask.”

“Good choice,” Maggie says, taking another sip. "Just enjoy it like I’ve been."

Then I spot Mack and Violet, standing in the middle of the yard, looking like they’re plotting something.

Mack grins, andViolet is covered in dirt, holding an open bag of potato chips like she’s negotiating a hostage situation.

A goat nudges her knee, and she yelps. “No! We are not doing this again, you tiny demon!”

The baby bleats loudly, clearly disagreeing.

Mack bursts into laughter.

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