by Misti Murphy
“Every animal I’ve ever known has an inborn sense about the vet,” Paynter says casually, as if we haven’t left our previous conversation unfinished. “They always get agitated here.”
“I do have confidence,” I say, because I can’t stop thinking about what he said in the car. “I’m damn good at my job. Apparently, I’m good at picking out non-expensive boots that still look good. And I know how to do all the right things to make sure I’m pleasing to others.”
He glances at my legs. “Those the boots? Because they do look damn good on you. I wouldn’t mind seeing what you look like in those and nothing else.”
I feel my cheeks heat as a man with a head full of white hair steps into the room and clears his throat before introducing himself as Dr. Benedict. “What’s going on with our little fella today?” he asks as he extracts Spot from my arms and carries her over to the stainless steal platform. A woman wearing blue scrubs steps into the room, ready to assist with whatever he plans to do with my goat. Paynter’s goat.
Our goat?
He pokes and prods Spot, checks her ears and inside her mouth, bends and twists the three legs that are not obviously broken, and then sticks a thermometer up the kid’s butt, which causes her to bleat pitifully. I wrap my arms around myself to keep from reaching out to the poor animal, which is looking at me with accusation in her eyes. I can’t believe I ran over my own goat.
Our goat.
I glance over at Paynter and we lock gazes. He’s staring at me while I’m watching the goat. Is that accusation in his eyes, too?
“So tell me what happened to her,” the vet says.
“I...”
“She was hit by a car. I don’t think the car was going very fast, though.”
Paynter’s covering for me.
The vet purses his lips and does some more poking and prodding, much to Spot’s annoyance. “I’d like to take her to the back for x-rays, see if there’s any internal damage, and to check out this leg. Then I’ll set the leg in a cast and let you know if I need to do anything else. Okay?”
“Sounds good,” Paynt says before I can, and then with a nod, the vet and his assistant both leave the room, taking my bleating goat with them.
Our goat.
“Why didn’t you let me admit I hit her?”
He shrugs and slouches lower in his chair. “Does it matter who hit her? To him, I mean?”
I guess not. I didn’t do it on purpose. The vet doesn’t have to fear animal cruelty. “How did she get out anyway?”
I’m surprised by Paynt’s blush. “The pen isn’t done, so I had her outside on a lead. I was running late to meet James and I forgot I left her out until I got to his office. The lead was a chain, so I thought she’d be okay. But I guess she figured out how to get out of her collar.”
“She certainly appears to be an escape artist. Our goat is Houdini.”
“She is. Our goat.”
Canting my head, I look at him and say, “Why does it sound like we’re talking like we’re a family?”
“Maybe because we are. Or at least I am. Because I think that’s what I want. You and me, taking care of Spot. Together.”
My heart pitter-patters. Is he saying what it sounds like he’s saying?
“But.”
Uh-oh. I hold my breath while he pauses.
“But first, I need you to be you. This thing I want, I want it with you. The real you, not the person you try to present to the world. I want the woman who hangs her laundry on the line, who’s comfortable walking around in sweats and her hair up in a ponytail. Or better yet, in my sweatshirt. God, you are sexy as fuck when you’re wearing my clothes.”
I lift my right leg. “I wore cheap boots today. That has to count for something, doesn’t it?”
“I’m not talking about your clothing choices, Chloe. I’m talking about your state of mind. You said you and that asshat were the couple Bernadette was trying to turn the two of us into, but I don’t think you were happy as that couple. Were you?”
Was I? I mean, before I knew Marcus was a backstabbing bastard, was I happy? “I think ... I think I got caught up in the dream. I wanted to be this ... this strong, powerful woman, and the only way I figured I could do it was through my career. So my entire life has been about my career. I’m not even sure I was in love with him in the first place. I think I was into the idea of being in love with someone who was just like me.”
“And are you happy?”
“With my career? Yes, actually.”
“Are you happy?” He drapes his arm across the back of the chairs and leans toward me, his eyes serious, his beautiful face pensive.
I know what he’s asking. Am I happy in general? Is my life complete? Or am I missing something? Something big.
“Like love.”
“Huh?” he says, confusion crawling across his face.
I turn my body toward him and reach out, grasping the lapels of his coat. “I am happy. But that’s because I met you. I’m happy in my career and my personal life. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way before. Hell, I didn’t believe I could actually have both things, not after Marcus.”
His grin is slow and cocky, at least it is until I jerk him forward so that his lips crash into mine and his glasses get knocked askew. He’s a quick study, though. It takes him no time at all before one of his hands is tangled in my damp hair while the other slides along my hip to squeeze my ass. With our lips still locked, I climb into his lap, straddling him and the chair, stabbing my fingers through his hair, tilting my head, my tongue warring with his, while I grind against his erection like a sixteen-year-old who desperately wants to lose her virginity.
What I really want is to lose these clothes. All of them. I want to be skin on skin, touching every part of him, while he explores every inch of my body. I want to feel him all over me, inside me. Oh, how I want him inside me.
“Let’s get naked,” I mumble around our kiss while I begin working at the buttons on his shirt. He laughs and clamps his hand over mine.
“We’re in the vet’s office, Chloe. Not exactly the right place.”
A throat clearing from behind me makes me cringe. Reluctantly, I glance over my shoulder at the white-haired doctor holding a sedated and freshly bathed Spot in his arms. Her back left leg is wrapped in white plaster. The lady in scrubs who was in the room earlier is standing behind them, holding what dog and cat owners call a cone of shame, which I presume is for Spot. Poor kid.
I climb off Paynter’s lap, smooth my skirt and hair, sit down in my own chair with as much dignity as I can possibly muster, and force myself to look up at the older gentleman as if he hadn’t just caught us making out in one of his waiting rooms.
“Keep that up and you’ll end up making some human kids to keep this one company,” the vet pipes up before chuckling and placing Spot on the stainless steel examination table. Paynt snickers and I punch him in the arm.
“Okay, now that you’re composed, tell me something. How did you come about this goat?” the doctor asks.
I glance at Paynter. “Uh, she was wandering around in my backyard.”
He nods. “Do you live anywhere near the Gibraltar Goat Farm?”
“Gibraltar Goat Farm…” I repeat slowly, trying to place it in my head.
“Yeah,” Paynt says. “It’s across the lake from us. Probably ten, fifteen miles driving, but if she wandered through the fields and around the lake, it’s not too far.”
“How do you know that?” I ask him.
“I told you I was into goats when I was a kid. That farm always took a ton of ribbons and trophies at the 4H fair. They breed some pretty impressive animals.”
The vet nods again. “Including this one. They reported her missing about a week ago.”
My heart plummets to my feet. We have to give up Spot. I hate the idea. I feel like Spot may have brought us together, and I want her to be part of our family.
He extracts a business card from his pocket and offers it to Paynter a
nd I. “I’ll let you call them.”
I stare at the card, embossed with the picture of a shaggy white goat. “What do goat farms do?”
“This one raises angora goats. Uses their coats to make clothing. They also produce milk and cheese. And occasionally, meat for dog food.”
“Meat for dog food?” I turn to Paynter, wide eyed.
“Relax,” he says, squeezing my shoulder. “She’s just a baby. They aren’t going to chop her up for dog food.”
They better not. Not my Spot.
Our Spot.
“Okay,” the vet says, motioning for us to join him at the stainless steel table. “Come on over here and let me explain what’s going to happen here. This little girl is going to need some T.L.C. over the next few weeks, and once the sedatives wear off, she’s probably not going to be too happy about it. Let me give you an idea of what you’re in for...”
Paynter and I both stand. I glance at him. He smiles. And then he grasps my hand, squeezing.
“We can handle this,” he says.
I hope he’s right.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHLOE
Spot is sound asleep in my arms when we arrive at Paynter’s house.
“Bring her inside and let’s put her in the bed I set up in the laundry room.”
I do as he suggests, but I don’t have the heart to wrap that stupid plastic contraption around her head, not when she looks so peaceful and innocent.
When I step into the kitchen, Paynt greets me with a glass of wine and a smile. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
Before we can get deeper into conversation, my phone chimes from inside my purse. I dig it out and see James’s name on the screen. “I have to take this,” I say, showing Paynt the screen before answering.
“Everything good?” James asks.
“Yes, I’m fine.”
“I meant between you and Paynter.”
“Oh. Um, sure. We’re fine. Thanks for asking.”
“Great. So have you thought about the promotion?”
“The what?”
Paynter is leaning against the counter, one ankle crossed over the other, holding a glass of wine and watching me. I turn away from the sight.
“Did you say promotion?”
“Yes. I told you when you and Paynt were in my office. I’d like to give you a promotion. Especially after the way you handled that asshole from the competition, I can’t think of anyone better to handle our new Kansas office.”
“Kansas? As in two states away?” I glance over my shoulder at Paynt, who’s staring at me like he’s waiting for something to happen. I hurry through the arched doorway into the formal dining room.
“I see you know your geography. Yes, that’s the Kansas I’m referring to. It’s a wide open market. I’m looking to expand, and I think that’s a great place to start. And you’re the person I want to run that office.”
“You … want me to run an office for you?” Never mind that he thinks Kansas is the place to start expanding; this is even more than I’ve dreamed. Me, in charge of an entire office. Brand new, something I can grow from the ground up. I’m practically vibrating with excitement.
Paynter steps up behind me. “What’s this about Kansas?” he asks.
“Nothing,” I say and move into the foyer.
“Yes,” James is saying. “You’re my number one. You’re perfect. Say you’ll do it, Chloe.”
“Um…” What about Paynter? What about Spot? What about us?
What about my dream? I’ve worked so hard for this, and my train was knocked off the rails once, entirely out of my control. This time, it’s up to me. If the guy gets in the way, it’s on me. My choice, my decision.
My life.
A thud draws my attention and I turn to see Paynter dragging a ladder into the foyer. “What on earth are you doing?” I ask.
He sets up the ladder slightly to the right of the chandelier. “I’m sick of this thing. I know you hate it, and I hate it too. It’s time for it to go.” He stalks from the room again.
“What’s going on?” James asks.
“Paynt is planning to take down the chandelier.”
“Tell him to leave that to the professionals.”
The foyer goes dark, which I assume is because Paynt turned off the electricity. A few moments later, he’s back, carrying a pair of bolt cutters. “James says you should leave that to the professionals,” I tell him.
“Really? What does James know about taking down chandeliers?”
“As much as you do, I assume. Which is why he suggested calling someone.”
“Tell him to mind his own damn business. And why are you two talking about Kansas and a promotion in the same conversation?”
“He—he offered me a promotion.” I’m still holding the phone to my ear and I’m watching Paynt, who is standing near the base of the ladder, gripping the bolt cutters.
“In Kansas?” He says it like the words leave a bad taste in his mouth.
“Yes?” My inflection makes it sound like a question, because I’m not quite ready to have this conversation. It’s all so new, all so much to absorb.
“Are you going to take it?” Paynt demands.
“I don’t know. He just asked two seconds ago. I’m still processing.”
“What’s to process? It’s a yes or no answer.”
“What’s your problem?”
He throws his hands into the air. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the fact that you’re seriously giving this move consideration? Like you really plan to move to fucking Kansas.”
“Wait a minute,” I say, pulling the phone away from my ear and clenching my fists at my sides. “Why wouldn’t I give it serious consideration? This is exactly what I’ve been working for since the minute I graduated from grad school.”
“What about us?” he says, echoing my thoughts. When I don’t answer right away, he grabs the ladder and begins climbing toward the top.
“What are you doing?”
“Cutting down this goddamn thing. I’m sick of looking at it.”
James has probably hung up by now, so I set my phone on the bannister and stalk over to the ladder. “Come down here so we can talk like civilized human beings.”
“What the hell is there to talk about? You’re moving to Kansas. You don’t even need to confirm it. This is your dream, remember?”
“Yes, I remember, and yes, we need to talk about it. Maybe … maybe I’ll turn it down.”
He’s at the top, positioning the cutters around the base of the chandelier.
“Did you hear me?”
He slams the tool onto the top of the ladder. “Yes, I heard you. And I think you’re an idiot for even thinking about turning it down.”
I grasp the ladder and stare up at him. “Wait a minute. Didn’t you just say ‘What about us’?”
“Yeah, I did. But I’m not an asshole. This is your dream. Your future. Everything you’ve worked for. So yes, I think you’re an idiot if you turn it down.”
“So what about us?”
He shrugs and starts to work at cutting down the chandelier again. “It’s only been a few weeks. You can’t base your future on something this new.”
“What I can’t do is have this conversation while you’re way up there and I’m down here.”
“It’s going to have to wait then. I can’t take living with this stupid phallic light fixture anymore.”
“Fine.” I grasp the side of the ladder and step onto the first rung. “Then I’ll come up to you.”
I climb the ladder, going up the opposite side from where Paynter is standing on the third rung from the top, staring down at me as if I’ve just announced I’m joining the circus.
“What the hell are you doing? You’re going to get us both killed. Get off the damn ladder, Chloe.”
“No. Not until you hear me out.”
“I can hear you just fine from here.”
I speak as I climb, one rung at a time. “Yes, but you aren’t l
istening. And this is important. I need to look you in the eye.”
That eye is wide, warily watching me. “Fine. I’ll go down.”
“Too late,” I say, having successfully reached the top. I place my hands on top of his, which are gripping the sides of the ladder. “I’m here now, so we might as well have that chat.”
He glances at the ground. “I’d rather talk with both feet planted down there. Closer to Earth. I’m not in a very good mood, Chloe, and whatever you plan to say is probably going to make my mood even fouler.”
“Paynter, stop,” I say, stomping my foot for emphasis. Which shakes the ladder. He pulls his hands out from under mine and reaches for me. Which tilts the ladder. The cutters slide off the side and Paynter tries to grab them.
“Oh no.”
“Shit! Grab the chandelier, Chloe,” he shouts, and I do exactly what he says as the ladder falls sideways and crashes to the tiles, leaving us both hanging from the long, narrow light fixture, staring at each other, swaying gently above the ground, which is a good twelve feet below us. I see fear and trepidation in his eyes. I’m sure it’s mirrored in my own. This is not an ideal situation, not by a long shot. Still...
“Can we talk now?”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” he shouts, and the chandelier shivers from the vibration. He glances down. “How the hell are we supposed to get down from here?”
“I love you, Paynter.”
“Goddamn it, Chloe, I said—wait. What did you just say?” His gaze flies to my face. I’m smiling serenely, trying not to gloat. He is about to be stuck with this stubborn woman. I’m not even worried that he can handle me. I know he can.
“I said I love you.”
“Okay, I admit it; I did not see that coming.”
“I can tell.”
“You climbed up the wrong side of a ladder to tell me that?”
“Well, and that I don’t want to go anywhere unless it’s with you.”
“You’re talking about the promotion, right?”
