Page 10 of Saving Her Heart
"She lives in 203. If Gertie's gotten into her apartment?—"
We're both moving toward the stairs before I finish the sentence. I'm still barefoot; he's taking the stairs two at a time, and we're racing toward what will undoubtedly be another disaster.
"Why didn't animal control warn anyone?" I call out, trying to keep up.
"They're embarrassed. A goat outsmarted them."
"A goat outsmarted professionals?"
"To be fair, it's a very smart goat."
We burst onto the second floor to find Mrs. Patterson's door wide open. Inside, Gertie stands on the coffee table, calmly eating what looks like a very expensive orchid arrangement.
"MY ORCHIDS!" Mrs. Patterson wails. "Those are for the Garden Club competition!"
"I'll get the goat," Jax says.
"No, I'll get her. You'll scare her."
"I'm trained to control chaotic situations."
"She's a goat, not a criminal."
"Actually, at this point, she might be both."
Gertie looks at us, an orchid dangling from her mouth, and I swear she's smirking. Then she hops off the table and trots toward the open door.
"Block the exit!" I shout because apparently I haven't learned to close doors behind me when I'm in full goat pursuit.
Jax moves to close the door, but Gertie's already through his legs and into the hallway. We scramble after her, Mrs. Patterson following with a broom like she's going to beat us all.
"This is your fault!" she shouts at me. "You and your liberal pet policies!"
"We don't have liberal pet policies! We have a no-pet policy!"
Gertie's heading for the elevator, which is opening to reveal the code enforcement officer, clipboard in hand. His eyes widen as a goat charges toward him.
"Not again," he mutters, trying to sidestep.
But Gertie's not interested in the elevator. She veers left toward the maintenance access door, which someone has propped open with a bucket. She disappears through it.
"That leads to the pool mechanical room," I say.
Jax is already following. "Which connects to?"
"The storage area, the laundry facility, and—oh no."
"What?"
"The community room. Where the Garden Club is setting up for their luncheon."
We race through the mechanical room, dodging pool equipment and chemical storage. I can hear Gertie's hooves echoing ahead of us, and something that sounds like metal clanging.
"She knocked over the chlorine buckets!" Jax calls back. "Don't slip on the?—"
Too late. My bare feet hit a wet patch and I'm sliding sideways. Jax catches my arm, pulling me against him to stop my fall. For a second, we're pressed together, his hand on my waist, my hand gripping his shirt, and I can feel his heart racing—or maybe that's mine.
"You okay?" he asks, his voice rougher than it should be.
