Page 18 of Wrangled Love

“I wonder what that is. Should we go check it out, buddy?” I ask.

Julie suggested that I explain things to Caleb before acting so he has a chance to react if it’s not something he wants to do.

Caleb fidgets with the hem of his shirt, his other hand clutching his stuffed animal. It comes with us everywhere. Julie made a special cubby for it in her office today, and once she told Caleb that dinosaurs have to go to school too, he accepted the idea of leaving it with her for a few hours each day.

He hugs the dino against his chest, letting out a shaky breath before taking a few tentative steps toward the backyard. I follow his lead, inching along the side of the house, the noise getting louder.

We round the corner and find Briar crouched beside a baby goat, holding a bottle to its mouth as it kicks its legs and headbutts at the nipple.

“Really? All this drama for milk?” she scolds, shaking her head. “I’m just trying to feed you.”

The goat bleats again in protest, stomping its tiny hooves.

My pulse kicks up as I take in Briar—a white-and-pink floral shirt tucked into her tight blue jeans, paired with a white cowboy hat and worn boots. She’s the type of beautiful that doesn’t ask for attention, but demands it. She’s trouble wrapped in denim and sass, and I’d be smart to keep my distance. I have enough going on without lusting after a woman I have no business ogling—especially with jealousy gnawing at me when my son looks at her like she strung up the stars just for him.

“Looks like he’s giving you a run for your money,” I note with a smirk.

Briar’s head snaps in my direction, her brows raised as if daring me to say more.

“You try wrangling this little guy. He’s as stubborn as a mule.” She adjusts her hold on the squirming goat.

When Briar spots Caleb next to me, her expression softens; a genuine smile spreading across her face.

“Thank goodness you’re here,” she exclaims. “Our friend here arrived an hour ago and still won’t take his bottle.” She tugs it away from the goat to stop him from knocking it out of her hand. “Would you mind helping me?” she asks Caleb.

His eyes widen as he looks between us, lingering on the baby goat. He shifts his weight, then lets out a soft exhale as if building up the courage to say yes.

Briar releases the goat from her hold, and it springs into action, racing around, its hooves pounding the dirt. The little ball of energy is a blur of black-and-white fur, weaving in and out of Briar’s legs like it’s an obstacle course.

It hadn’t paid Caleb or me any attention before now, but suddenly, its gaze locks on me. Without warning, it stiffens, its legs rigid as it collapses to the ground with a dramatic flop that leaves us frozen in disbelief. Panic flickers in my chest. What if something’s seriously wrong with the goat? How am I supposed to explain that to Caleb after he witnessed the whole thing?

I frown when Briar bursts out laughing, holding the bottle to her chest.

I’m about to argue that this isn’t funny when the goat twitches, lets out a snort, and springs to its feet like it didn’t just scare years off my life.

I roll my eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

The goat turns its head toward me, letting out a soft bleat before dropping to the ground again, toppling over like a tipped statue.

“Guess we have a fainting goat on our hands. Clearly, he’s not your biggest fan, Jensen,” Briar says, shooting me a teasing grin before leaning over to stroke its side.

I’m unsure whether to be offended or amused that the goat has pegged me as some kind of danger, thinking playing dead is its best defense.

When it pops back up again, I stay quiet, not wanting to scare Caleb any more than I’m sure he already is. But instead of reacting with fear, he bursts into a fit of giggles, the sound growing louder when the goat trots over and bumps him in the leg. It’s the first time I’ve heard him laugh, and it’s music to my ears.

The goat stretches its neck to investigate the dinosaur that Caleb holds loosely at his side, rubbing its nose against his pant leg.

“When were you going to tell me you were a goat whisperer?” Briar winks at him. “Maybe he’ll let you feed him. Want to try?”

Caleb’s head bobs up and down as he sets his dinosaur on the ground before going to sit beside her, cross-legged.

“Great.”

Briar guides his hands around the bottle. Together, they offer it to the goat, who nudges it curiously before finally latching onto the nipple and taking a few eager gulps. Briar slowly moves her hands away, letting Caleb feed it by himself.

She shakes her head in amazement. “Looks like you’ve got the magic touch, Caleb.”

He grins, his cheeks flushed with pride as he holds the bottle steady. His unguarded reaction makes me second-guess my initial reluctance to accept Briar’s efforts to help him feel at home. It still stings that he gravitates toward her, but I can’t deny she’s getting through to him in a way I haven’t yet.

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