by Misti Murphy
***
After Spot knocks over the trash bin, manages to climb onto the dining room table, and then begins chomping on the fringe of what looks like a handmade blanket draped over the back of Paynter’s couch, I find another length of rope and lead the goat out the back door, figuring it will be safer to hang out outside with her until he returns.
We make our way over to my yard, and even though I cringe at the idea of letting the animal into my own house, I do so because I want to change into comfortable clothing and pour myself a glass of wine, which makes it infinitely more bearable to meander about the yard with a goat on a leash.
After I wander down to the lake and laughing at the way Spot dances to the edge of the water and then scurries away over and over, as if she can’t quite work up the nerve to investigate this strange substance, my wineglass is empty, so I head back to the house in search of a refill.
When we emerge from the trees surrounding the lake, we’re actually on Paynter’s lawn, so I veer right, toward my house, just as a woman appears between our properties, carefully picking her way over the grass and fallen leaves. Even from this distance, I recognize those shoes as Louis Vuitton and that suit as one I’d passed over because the price tag was too steep, no matter how gorgeous it was. Her hair is the perfect shade of blonde; her skin is porcelain. A living, breathing China doll with taste in clothing I’ll only be able to afford after I make partner. And even then, it’ll be a stretch. But I’ll figure it out, damn it, because, God, those shoes are fabulous.
“Careful,” I call out, rushing toward her, momentarily forgetting I’m dragging a goat of all things behind me. But I cannot let her ruin those heels. “Here, step onto this paver.” Holding out my arms, I guide her toward the stones that make a path around Paynter’s house from his deck, past the decimated hydrangeas, to the driveway.
She follows my direction, but the scowl on her otherwise beautiful face doesn’t change. “Do you live here?”
“I wish,” I say with a nervous laugh, before shoving my thumb over my shoulder. “I live in that one.”
Her immaculately manicured brows—exactly two shades darker than her ash blonde hair—quirk as she gives my house a disdainful look before swivelling her gaze toward Paynter’s deck. “So you’re trespassing?”
“I, ah, we’re friends. Neighbors. Paynter and I. He-he doesn’t mind if I’m on his lawn.”
“With a goat?” She says it like I’m carting around a cockroach on a leash instead of a docile, oddly endearing, if mischievous, four-legged animal. One that has done absolutely nothing at all to offend this woman.
Unless, of course, Spot knocked over her trash or ate the woman’s begonias on her earlier rampage through the neighborhood.
“Er ... I’m baby, ah, goat sitting. For a friend.”
“We don’t allow kids in this neighborhood.”
“Kids?” I don’t remember reading that in the bylaws, and I’d read them from cover to cover to ensure I never, ever did anything to cross the esteemed homeowners’ association.
“Baby goats.” Her gaze drops to glare at poor Spot, who obliviously butts her head against the woman’s leg, which kicks out and narrowly misses stabbing the animal with a heel resembling the stem of a crystal wineglass. I gather the innocent goat into my arms and take a step away from the impossibly beautiful woman.
“Right. Actually, it states all animals must be fenced in or on a leash. It doesn’t say anything specifically about goats.” Even though I am certain no one in this stuffy neighborhood would ever imagine taking on a goat as a pet. Except Paynter.
“It should. That thing belongs on a farm, not in this community.” She even adds a sniff to the pretentious comment. “Maybe I need to revise the homeowners’ association bylaws.”
“Who are you?” Only the HOA board can revise bylaws. I’ve met the president and the board, and I don’t recall having come across this beacon for all sophisticated, professional women.
Her smile is pure Cheshire cat. She reaches out like she’s about to offer her hand to shake, drops her gaze to Spot, and pulls back again.
“I’m the new president of the homeowners’ association.”
“What happened to Dr. Gertney?” I’ve only lived here for a year, but according to my neighbors, Dr. Gertney has been the president of the HOA since the first house went up, forty years ago.
“Died. Lung cancer. Very sudden.” She didn’t even pretend to have a bit of sympathy for the poor man.
“Wow. I didn’t even hear about it.” Of course, I’d been a bit preoccupied lately with thinking about and then getting naked with Paynter. “And you’re the new president. Were you on the board?” If she was, she hasn’t been to any of the quarterly meetings I’ve attended.
Flipping her hair over her shoulder like a movie star, she says, “I moved into the neighborhood about three months ago. But I’m quite aggressive.” She flashes a toothy grin that makes me think of sharks. I clutch the goat to my chest and take another step away.
“When I want something, I get it. Every time. Well, not every time, I suppose.” She glances at Paynter’s house. Did she, too, want this one but ended up with her second choice, like I had?
“There isn’t a bad house in this neighborhood.”
“Some are certainly better than others.”
I couldn’t argue.
“You say you’re friends with Paynter?”
I nod. “You’ve met Paynter?” I’m not surprised, really. Besides the fact that he’s beautiful even just to stare at, the man works from home, so he would have significantly more opportunity to meet the neighbors than someone like me, who works too many hours at an office and then escapes to the privacy of my home without bothering to wave at people who walk or drive by.
Ignoring my question, she asks, “Do you know if he’s replaced the chandelier?”
I chuckle. “Yes, although I’m not sure the replacement is much better. Actually, I’ve seen both, and I can tell you, the original is way better.”
“You liked the original?” Is that an almost genuine smile on her lips?
I shrug. “Like I said, it was better than what’s there now.”
She’s staring at the house like she wants to go inside and check out the new light fixture in the foyer. I understand the feeling, because I loved this house, too, once upon a time. Although it’s funny, the more time I spend there, the more it seems to be about the man and not the abode.
She isn’t a particularly pleasant person, but she is the president of the HOA and she personifies everything I strive to be, or so it appears on the outside. And if Paynter plans to keep Spot as a pet, I should probably attempt to make friends with the person who has the authority to force him to give up his new kid. I open my mouth, prepared to invite her into his house, figuring she’ll find the chandelier as horrendous as the rest of us, when Paynter’s voice cuts me off.
“Hey, Chloe, you back here?” he calls out as he rounds the corner, balancing a bunch of metal poles on his shoulder. “Can you help me carry this stuff? There’s this tractor supply place about ten miles away, so I went out there to get feed and straw and stuff for Spot, plus they had the perfect supplies to make a pen and...” He stops in his tracks when he sees me and the president of the HOA, and a moment later, the metal poles go crashing to the ground.
“What the fuck are you doing here, Bernadette?”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
PAYNTER
When I get back and start unloading the poles for the pen, Chloe’s standing in my yard with Spot in her arms, talking to another woman. It takes me half a second to recognize my ex, to freeze while the poles thud to the ground around my feet.
It’s the oddest thing, seeing Bernadette again in my backyard of all places. She’s supposed to be on the other side of the country, wheeling deals and employing some ponce to be her perfect candidate for future husband. Not right in front of me, talking to Chloe. I’ve thought about running into her more times than I want to admit,
thought I’d be angry or perhaps relieved to put the past to bed. I’m neither. I don’t feel anything toward the woman I once planned to marry. A growl vibrates in my throat at her talking to Chloe though.
“What the fuck are you doing here, Bernadette?”
The two women look at me for a startled moment. Then Bernadette smiles and picks her way across the lawn on her ridiculous heels. Her smile is stiff, fake. Did she have Botox? Or plastic surgery? She went on and on about it when we were together, but I always thought she was beautiful as she was.
But now there’s something off about her face. We’ve known each other for a long time, we were friends even before we started dating, but the woman who reaches up to clasp my shoulders and air-kiss each cheek isn’t who I remember. “Get some work done, B?”
“You noticed?” She flicks her blonde hair back from her shoulder. “You always had a good eye for detail.”
Shame it wasn’t better, since I can’t see a damn thing about her now that attracted me in the first place.
Chloe’s eyes widen, and she sweeps her gaze between me and plastic fantastic Barbie before reaching to tug at her hair. She did that the morning she flipped out about James. It must be a nervous habit or stress related, but I’m not in the mood to watch her bolt now.
“I was just talking to your neighbor about that barnyard animal. She said she was watching it for a friend, but I’m assuming she meant you.” Bernadette slips beside me, her hand going to my arm. “I shouldn’t be surprised that you’re behind this goat tomfoolery.”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I ignore her attempts at whatever it is she’s trying to accomplish by fluttering her fingers over my bicep. It’s annoying in the way a fly is, and I want to swat her away, especially when she addresses Chloe with disdain. “Paynter here always did have a thing for strays.”
Chloe stops playing with her hair and rears back as though she’s been physically slapped. A quick glance at her attire, and she draws her pretty eyebrows together. She’d probably find it easier to keep her bearings if she were still dressed in her suit, but I know from firsthand experience that Bernadette can tear down anyone if she gets it in her mind to do so.
“Bernadette,” I caution. I couldn’t give two fucks what she thinks of me now, but I won’t hear a bad word said about this woman who is managing to be gracious and genuine to my ex at the moment.
Stalking to Chloe, I stop right in front of her. I want to clasp her face in my hands and kiss her or wrap my arms around her waist and pull her against me so that she knows the woman behind me means less than nothing. And so that same woman knows I’ve moved on to something so much better. But I’m uncertain how Chloe would react, and whether Bernadette would make this already uncomfortable meeting worse. “Don’t take it personally, okay?”
“Of course not,” Chloe says and pushes Spot into my arms. “Here, hold my goat.”
Hot damn, this woman must be formidable when selling real estate to be able to pull off the haughty look of contempt she aims at Bernadette while dressed in a worn sweatshirt and yoga pants. She steps around me, moving across the yard.
“I’m sure you weren’t categorizing me alongside the goat. Paynter took it the wrong way, didn’t he? You wouldn’t come to his house to insult his friends. People like you and I are too professional to sink to that level.”
“Friends?” Bernadette folds one arm delicately over her chest, clasping her elbow with her hand. “Is that what you are?”
“Friends,” Chloe raises her voice a notch. “Very good friends.”
Bernadette toys with one of her long diamond earrings while she smiles. It’s like watching Animal Planet, When Sharks Attack. “Look, sweetie, I’m sure you think you’re on my level and that you’re very good friends, but Paynt has taste. He’s used to quality. Whatever this is,” she gestures between the two of us while peering down the long ridge of her nose at Chloe, “is just Paynt’s way of distracting himself.”
“That’s enough, Bernadette,” I snap as I get between them, putting the kid down on the grass. Hopefully, she won’t wander too far. “I won’t let you talk to Chloe like that. Say what you have to say and get the hell off my property.”
I swear she ignores me. “You do realize that the chandelier in Paynt’s foyer is mine?”
“That phallic monstrosity is yours?” Chloe snickers. “And you’re talking about taste?”
“It’s still there, isn’t it?” Bernadette preens, touching her hair. “Even after I left, he didn’t get rid of it. I bet it’s not the only part of me he’s held onto all this time.”
I catch myself holding my breath and let it out in a whoosh. I should have gotten rid of that chandelier, and the box of letters, and the velvet ring box that was never opened. Because not one part of me understands how the hell I ever thought I loved this woman enough to want to marry her. She’s ice and bite, nothing but show and a whole lot of bitterness.
Chloe hesitates, flicking a glance at me for confirmation.
Bernadette goes in for the kill. “I’m back now, and Paynt and I have a lot to sort out, so you can scurry off home. Perhaps take the goat with you. The two of you look like you belong together.”
The nerve in my jaw ticks like a bomb waiting to go off and the muscles in my neck are hard as cement thanks to her insinuation there’s something left unsaid between us. My chest burns with my escalating temper and the idea of Chloe running because of Bernadette.
Gripping Chloe’s wrist, I pull her close and wind my other arm around her waist. Her heart is beating fast, so fast. She’s rigid; I can barely bring her back to my chest, but she hides it well.
“She’s not going anywhere,” I bark at Bernadette over the top of her head.
“Chloe and I are together and I’m fucking happy.” Or I will be when Queen B gets out of my yard and leaves us alone. Chloe takes a deep breath, and I wait for her to dispute my words, but instead she finally relaxes into me.
Bernadette cants her head and stares at us through slitted eyes. “You’re not really. You can’t mean that. You loved me, enough to want to marry me, Paynt. And we were good together; we have so much history. I know there are things we need to sort out, but we could be great together. Better than last time. Better than this.”
I shake my head and press my mouth to the top of Chloe’s locks. Does the woman not see how ridiculous she is? “Maybe one day you’ll realize that your crazy expectations of what is better aren’t going to make you happy, Bernie.”
All the anger that has built up under my skin dissipates. In a way, I feel sorry for her, because she’ll never be happy. I, at least, have a chance. Chloe, at least, has a chance, because try as hard as she does to stick to her plans of bigger and better things, when we’re together she seems to forget them. But Bernadette won’t unless she works out that all her goals and aspirations of perfection won’t bring her joy.
“Chloe’s not a distraction. She means much more to me than that, and she’s who I want. I won’t have you treat her the way you just did.”
“But the chandelier.” For the first time in as far back as I can remember Bernadette seems to lose her footing on that pedestal she’s built for herself. I get a glimpse of the woman I first became friends with and then found myself attracted to, but now she looks lost.
“I didn’t bother taking it down because I didn’t know if I was going to stay here long term. Let me call someone in to pack it up. I’ll have it delivered to you as soon as it can be arranged.” I tighten my hold on Chloe’s waist. I want to make it clear in no uncertain manner that I’m moving forward and Chloe’s the only girl I’m interested in. She wraps her hands around my forearm, holding onto me, and I welcome the support it lends and the possessiveness. “I’ll try to find Spot a home too. Whatever it takes to get you to stay out of my life.”
“You don’t mean that?” Bernadette tries to frown, but her brow stays immovably smooth. “I’ll admit I made a mistake, maybe two. But—”
“You did
me a favor,” I tell her. “Good-bye, Bernadette. Pop your address in my mailbox on your way out so I can make sure the chandelier gets delivered to the right house. Hopefully, you’ll get more enjoyment from it than I ever did.”
Taking Chloe’s hand, I leave Bernadette to find her own way out of my yard while we chase after Spot, who’s wandered down near the lake. Chloe’s quiet while I round up the goat and carry it back to the house. Bernadette’s gone and the irritation over our clash has dispersed, but I don’t like the silence. Hopefully, she isn’t thinking about what Bernadette said about the chandelier, because the only thing that should symbolize is pretty damn obvious.
“So Spot’s your goat, huh?”
“What?”
“You told me to hold your goat.” I wrap an arm around her shoulders as we head up to the house.
“Oh, uh. Did I?” She studies a length of her hair, probably trying not to look affected by the encounter. “So that was your ex Garrett was ranting about. Even with what he’d said about how stuck-up and mean she is, I never expected her to be like that.”
“She’s unique,” I say. “I almost feel sorry for her, because I don’t think she’ll ever be able to just enjoy the life she has. She’ll always be too busy trying to make everything perfect.”
Skirting the house, we head for the car where I still have supplies to unload. As we enter my front yard, Chloe asks, “Are you really going to get rid of Spot?”
Her concern over our pet when only hours earlier she’d berated me about the little beast is touching. “I’m still going to try to find out where she came from. If I can’t find her home, I’ll take her to my parents. They’ve got a big enough yard, and my mom could probably do with the company. At least for a while.”
Setting Spot on the ground, I gather from the trunk a length of chain and a collar that I’d bought to secure her while I build a pen. “I’m sorry she attacked you like that. But damn, you were something with the way you threw down. I was seriously impressed.”
