Page 310 of Hate Mates

THREE

Christiane

Istep into Willow Glen Feed and inhale deeply. I've always loved the smell of feed stores—a mix of hay, grain, and leather. The best.

Browsing the collars, I pick through them. Daisies for Daisy, butterflies for Debbie. No dandelions for Dandie, but she'll like this sparkly pink one. As I'm discussing options for Emmanuel—like therapy—with Jake at the counter, Adam walks in. I roll my eyes and keep talking. Jake is no help on the goat therapy front, but he suggests some enrichment toys for the paddock, to keep Emmanuel occupied. I'm skeptical, but I order a few anyway.

Turning to leave, I walk straight into Adam. My bag hits the floor, spilling the collars. Sighing, I crouch to pick them up—only to smack my head against his. Hissing in pain, I fall back on my ass, rubbing my forehead.

"Fais gaffe!" I snap, gathering the collars.

"Excuse me?"

"Watch out! It's bad enough that you're there every time I turn around." I search for Dandie's collar, and spot it in his rough hands.

"Interesting color choice." He turns it over, inspecting it.

"Dandie loves a splash of color. Every girl does." I hold out my hand expectantly.

"Dandie?"

I roll my eyes. "Yes. Short for Dandelion. She's one of my goats."

Adam smirks, and my pulse jumps. Ugh. He's so aggravating.

"Never met a goat named Dandelion, but hey, first time for everything. What else do you have?"

I snatch the collar from his hand and straighten. "The goats—Daisy, Dandie, Debbie, and Emmanuel. The chickens—Paisley, Beatrice, Molly, and Ginny. And the rooster, Chanticlare. Then, there's my Jersey cow, Cookie."

His smirk deepens. "A milk cow named Cookie. Because cookies go with-"

I cut him off. "Milk. Yes. If you'll excuse me, I need to check in with my contractor, and find a good goat therapist."

Forty-five minutes later, I'm just finishing up with Paul, the owner of Paul's Fix and Flourish, the only contractor with talent in Willow Glen, when my phone rings. I check the screen to see Adam Williams' name on it.

"How did he get my number?" I slide the button to answer. "Hello?"

"Chris? It's Adam. I got your number from Jake at the feed store. I just pulled back up to the house, and I thought you should know there is a black goat on the roof of your barn."

I don't even bother correcting him on the use of my nickname.

"Emmanuel!" I shriek, causing every worker in the room to stop. The sudden silence after the cacophony of power tools is shocking. "I'll be there in a minute." I hang up before turning to Paul. "I've got to go. I will be sourcing fixtures soon, but please continue with the plans that have been finalized."

"Problems?" He starts rolling up the blueprints as he follows me out of the store.

"Nothing a good goat therapist wouldn't fix, or potentially an exorcist." I climb into my Jeep and peel out of the parking lot.

When I turn into my driveway, I see all four of the Williams brothers standing around the goat paddock. Patrick has his hands on his hips, shaking his head like a disappointed father. Eli is laughing so hard that he's doubled over. Brandon, ever the practical one, is holding out an empty feed bucket, shaking it in a futile attempt to tempt Emmanuel down. And Adam—of course, Adam—is leaning against the fence, arms crossed, smirking. Momentarily distracted by the scene in front of me, it takes a moment to click. Not only is there a black goat on the roof of my barn, but he's also eating my gardening hat.

I slam my car door and storm up to the barn. "Emmanuel,espèce de petit démon!" I march toward the paddock, pointing an accusing finger. "You get down from there right this second. That isnotfood!Howdid you even get up there? And why—why my hat?"

I hear chuckles, followed by a cough, and stop to see the Williams brothers grinning at me. Adam tilts his own hat back, watching with infuriating amusement. "If you wanted to donate your hat to the goats, you could've just tossed it in the paddock."

I shoot him a glare. "You're awfully chatty for someonenothelping."

He smirks. "Oh, I'm helping. Moral support."

"Great," I mutter and head around to grab the ladder. Hauling it out, I prop it against the side of the barn, cursing under my breath the entire time. Emmanuel stares down at me, calmly munching on my hat, which is getting smaller and smaller by the minute.

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