Page 20 of The Parent Playbook
“Edgar!” Angel shouts with an outstretched finger. “Calm down!” She rushes over and grabs the goat—who is remarkably nimble for such a big goat—and pulls him back seconds beforehe was going to … to do what? I don’t know what goats do when they attack. “Sorry, he’s protective.”
“And he’s right.” The barn looks like a bigger mess than it was before. “Looks like, um, you’re making some headway here?”
She sniffs subtly, swiping at her eyes with the heel of her hand as if I might not notice. “Yeah, it’s a disaster. But it can only get better, right?”
“Right, sure.” That did not sound right nor sure. “I’ve got the stuff in the truck but … mind if I help?” Lily is with Doug and his family for the night, and a quick text would make sure she’s covered until morning if necessary. “Two heads are better than one, especially if one of them knows a hammer from a screwdriver.”
She sniggers, the sound more genuine this time, though she’s quick to retort. “As long as you don’t ask for my banking details, we should be fine.”
I pick up the drill she dropped, checking it for damage before I continue. “Actually, I was thinking of starting on that leaky roof section over there. That way, you won’t have to swim to feed the horses after the next storm.”
Her smile flickers. “That’s very knightly of you, Sir Scotty. Just don’t expect a damsel in distress to swoon at your feet.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
She’s a spitfire, this woman. And I love it.
CHAPTER 9
ANGEL
Happy Horizons Ranch is less a scene of pastoral tranquility and more a testament to what two determined, if slightly delirious, individuals can accomplish on no sleep.
Crouching by the plumbing line behind the barn, Scotty passes me a wrench. “So, any idea what the mysterious blockage could be?”
“I’m betting on Edgar,” I reply, squinting into the exposed pipe. “He has a notorious habit of hiding things where they absolutely do not belong.”
Scotty wipes his brow. “Pfft, what hasn’t that goat gotten into?”
“Yesterday, it was my lunch,” I add, grunting as I loosen a particularly stubborn section of pipe. “Ah, here we go. Brace yourself. It could be anything.”
We both lean in as I slowly pull apart the pipe junction. Suddenly, a deluge of water spurts out, followed by an assortment of small, shiny objects. Coins, washers, and—yes, a very chewed-up looking baseball cap.
“I knew I should have put a tighter cover on the evacuationline. Looks like Edgar’s collected a treasure trove,” I say, plucking the sopping cap from the muck.
Scotty laughs, holding up a coin. “Or trying to start his own savings account. You think he’s saving up for a big vacation?”
“Or tuition for mischief school,” I fire back, tossing the cap to the side. “He’s got to be top of his class.”
Ah, ranch life. Plumbing repairs are one thing, but plumbing repairs plus goat-induced treasure hunts? That’s Happy Horizons special.
Scotty nudges me with his elbow. “What’s got you grinning? Found something valuable in there?”
“I was thinking about how my job description never mentioned diving for prizes in plumbing lines,” I reply. “Think I could put that on my application to the Charities Program?”
“Definitely.” Scotty laughs as he fishes out what looks suspiciously like one of my missing socks. “Plumber, goat wrangler, and treasure hunter. You’re a triple threat, Angel.”
We tidy up, the air filled with comfortable silence after a night of intense labor. It feels like we’ve been doing this forever and not just one night.
“Almost done,” I announce, “but where did I put that …”
Rope, I don’t get a chance to say. One step backward onto a rogue coil of said rope sends my balance off-kilter. The world tilts dangerously backward, and right as I’m mentally preparing for a bruising introduction to the barn floor, Scotty’s arms are around me, pulling me against him in a firm grip.
“Found it,” I whisper into his chest.
His hold is secure, a little too close for casual, and I can feel the solid press of his body against mine. We stay this way for a moment too long, his chest solid against my back, his breath warm against my cheek. I can feel his heartbeat through the thin fabric of his shirt, fast and strong. The smell of him—sawdust and something distinctlyman—fills my senses, and for a fleeting moment, I let myself be held.
“Gotcha,” Scotty says, his voice a low rumble, as he gently sets me upright.
