Page 123 of Falling for Love

“She’s not here, and Abby saw her in town,” Mom said quickly. “We need to find her before she causes trouble.”

By then, Beck was at the zebra’s pen, and he let out a low groan.

“Yep. She’s gone,” he called over his shoulder. “And she didn’t just escape—she pulled the latch loose again. I don’t know how she does it.”

“That zebra has a future in engineering,” I muttered, jogging over to join him. Sure enough, the latch was hanging at an odd angle, barely attached to the post. “I swear, she’s smarter than some of us.”

“Not helping, Liam,” Beck said, glaring at me. “How about you focus on finding her instead of making jokes?”

Mom clapped her hands, already switching into crisis mode. “Alright, Beck, check the main road toward town. Liam, you head over to the park. She likes grazing there. Your dad and I will drive around the outskirts to see if she wandered toward the fields.”

“And what happens if we can’t find her?” Beck asked, his tone half-serious, half-dreading the answer.

“We will find her,” Mom said firmly. “Because if we don’t, you know what happens next.”

I grimaced, knowing exactly what she meant. The last time Macy got loose, the local news ran a piece about “the Buttercup Lake Zebra on the Loose,” complete with photos of her trottingthrough the town square. The lodge had never gotten so much publicity or ribbing from our neighbors.

“Alright, alright, I’m going,” Beck grumbled, pulling out his phone. “If I spot her, I’ll call.”

“Don’t just call,” I said, already heading toward the truck. “Try to catch her. You know, before she wanders into another boutique and starts knocking over shelves.”

“I’ll do my best, but I’m not making any promises,” Beck shot back.

As I drove toward the park, I couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. Only at Honey Leaf Lodge would “zebra wrangling” be a normal part of the day. Macy—or Barcode, as Beck insisted on calling her—was the quirkiest member of our motley crew of rescue animals. And while she was undeniably a handful, she was also part of what made life here so unpredictable and fun.

I slowed down as I reached the park, scanning the open space for any sign of her black-and-white stripes. A few families were playing on the playground, and a couple of joggers waved as I passed, but there was no sign of Macy.

Pulling over, I hopped out of the truck and called out, “Macy! Macy, come on, girl! I’ve got treats.”

Nothing. Not even a rustle in the bushes.

I was about to give up when my phone buzzed. It was Beck.

“She’s not on the main road,” he said as soon as I picked up. “But one of the guys at the gas station said he saw her heading toward the bakery.”

“Of course she’s heading for food,” I muttered, climbing back into the truck. “Did you check the bakery yet?”

“Not yet. I’m on my way there now.”

“Alright, I’ll head to the square. If she’s making her way through town, someone else has to have seen her.”

As I hung up and turned the truck around, I couldn’t help but grin. Life at Honey Leaf Lodge might be chaotic, but it was never dull. And with Macy leading the charge, today was shaping up to be another adventure.

Chapter Thirty-One

Evie

The sun hung low over the rolling hills of Buttercup Lake as I packed up my tools at my last stop of the day. The Thompsons owned a modest piece of land, just a couple of acres on the outskirts of town. They had one pony for their daughter, a sweet little Shetland named Dandelion who stood all of eleven hands high but thought she was the queen of the equine world.

“Thanks again, Evie,” Mrs. Thompson said, waving from the porch as I loaded my gear into the truck bed. “Dandelion looks great.”

“Always happy to help,” I called back, giving her a friendly wave. “She’s good to go for the next couple of months.”

With my tools stashed and gloves tugged off, I glanced at the time. I had just enough cushion to swing by the market, grab Hayden’s favorite snacks, and make it to the bus stop in time. It was a good feeling—being ahead of schedule and everything going smoothly for once.

That’s when I saw it.

At first, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. I stopped mid-step and squinted toward the far side of the Thompsons’ fence line, where a flash of black and white moved through the grass.

---