Page 314 of Hate Mates

"T'es vraiment chiant, Emmanuel!" I sigh, move back to the window, and reach into my basket for my cell phone.

It isn't there.

"Emmanuel, I am going to kill you!"

SIX

Adam

Isit on the edge of my bed and groan. The sun is just peeking over the horizon, and I'm awake to see it. Sleeping like shit is getting old—hell, I'm getting old.

The rich scent of coffee drifts through the air, and I silently bless whoever invented the automatic coffee pot. Grabbing a cup and my boots, I head out to the porch. My to-do list is a mile long, and the sooner I start, the better my chances are of getting to bed before midnight.

I've just managed to kick on my boots when the peaceful morning is shattered, by a loud clatter, and Chris's voice ringing out.

"Emmanuel, I am going to kill you!"

Sighing, I take another swig of coffee. "Life was so much quieter before she moved in."

I hop over the fence and head toward the barn. Emmanuel is in the paddock, so I shut the door behind me, locking him out. A quick survey of the scene tells me everything I need to know; the ladder's on the ground, and French curses are flying from above.

"Need help, princess?" I call, smirking up at the loft.

"Don't youdarecall me that," Christiane snaps. A rustling noise follows, and her face appears over the edge, eyes blazing. "The ladder fell. Fix it."

I shake my head, setting my coffee on a nearby barrel. "You know, most people don't climb up before ensuring they can getdown."

"Adam." Her voice is dangerously low.

I should stop pushing my luck. I lift the fallen ladder, but one of the hinges is bent. Useless. With a sigh, I scan the barn. "You're gonna have to hang tight. I'll find another way up."

I spot a stack of hay bales near the wall and climb onto them, testing my weight before gripping one of the beams overhead. With a grunt, I haul myself up, and swing a leg onto the loft. The second my boot touches the wood, Christiane huffs and crosses her arms.

"Took you long enough."

"You're welcome," I snark, brushing bits of hay from my jeans.

Before I can figure out how to get her down, a familiarthudechoes from below.

I frown. "What was that?"

Christiane peers over the edge, then groans. "Oh,merde."

I follow her gaze just in time to see Emmanuel, the damn goat, standing triumphantly in the middle of the barn, my coffee cup knocked over at his feet.

I narrow my eyes. "Howdid he get in here?"

"He's smarter than you," Christiane mutters.

Emmanuel trots over to the pile of hay, sniffs it, then grabs the string holding the bale with his teeth and yanks, because he's a menace. The stack of hay topples over with a crash.

I blink.

Christiane exhales sharply. "Well, now we're both stuck."

Emmanuel lets out a smug littlebleatbelow, before sauntering toward the knocked-over coffee, lapping at the spilled liquid like he owns the place.

I pinch the bridge of my nose. "I hate that goat."

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