Page 19 of Jason Bourne
19
Jason
Fraiser Mountain looked pretty damn peaceful at sunrise.
Blue sky, pine needles whispering in the breeze, coffee steaming in my mug. My girl was standing barefoot on the porch, hair messy, wearing my old T-shirt, and glaring at the woods like they’d personally offended her.
Perfect.
Until Lane squinted at the steps and said, “Where the hell are my shoes?”
I lowered my mug. “What?”
She pointed a dramatic finger at the empty porch rail. “I left my boots right there last night. They’re gone.”
I snorted into my coffee. “Maybe the wind—”
“Jason.” She turned slowly, eyes narrowed. “Shoes do not blow away. Find them.”
I opened my mouth to argue — then Thor rumbled beside me, a low, suspicious growl vibrating in his chest. His ears snapped forward. His tail went stiff.
Lane frowned. “What’s he growling at—?”
Before she could finish, something white and furry bolted past her bare legs.
She shrieked and nearly climbed me like a tree.
“A goat!” she screeched. “Did a goat just run through my yard?!”
I tried — I really did — but the laugh punched out of me so hard I nearly dropped the mug.
Lane slapped my chest. “Don’t you dare laugh, Jason Bourne! There is livestock stealing my boots!”
Thor barked twice, then lunged off the porch like he’d just remembered he was half wolf half mountain dog and not a recovering patient.
From behind the shed came a startledmaaahhand the sound of something knocking over my old oil drum.
Lane’s voice went shrill. “Oh my God, Jason, your psycho mountain goat has my boots in its mouth! What the actual hell kind of place did you drag me to?!”
I doubled over, wheezing with laughter. “Not my goat, sweetheart. That’s probably Gus from down the road. He thinks he owns everything that smells like leather.”
She pointed furiously at the chaos, Thor chasing the goat who was dragging her boot like a trophy. “Fix it!Fix. It.Or so help me, I will march my city ass back to the FBI and fill out paperwork just to spite you.”
I wrapped my arms around her shoulders, still grinning like an idiot. “Relax. It’s just Fraiser Mountain saying good morning.”
She narrowed her eyes at me, cheeks flushed, lips twitching like she wanted to stay mad but couldn’t. “Your mountain is gonna need to learn some manners.”
She turned and shouted at the retreating goat: “HEY! DROP THE SHOE, YOU FURRY LITTLE FELON!”
I buried my face in her hair to muffle my laugh. God, I loved her.
20
Jason
By the time Thor chased Gus-the-Goat halfway down the gravel road, Lane had stomped barefoot into the yard, shouting threats at the trees like the entire forest owed her an apology.
“Lane—” I called, trying not to spill my coffee. “Babe, come back up here. He’ll drop the boot—”
