by Liz Isaacson
Smartly, he took the tray from her and let her lock up her cabin. Then they sat on the top step together, and Carson banished Ted and Tony to the lawn and told them to stay.
“This smells great,” he said, taking in the spread on the tray now balanced on his knees. “Stew?”
“Cowboy stew,” she said. “It’s mostly ground beef and cabbage, with some beans and corn.”
“Did you make these cinnamon rolls?”
“This morning.”
“No wonder you smell so sweet,” he said, reaching for one of the cinnamon rolls first.
“Is that a pick-up line?” she asked, and Carson looked at her.
“No, ma’am. You smell like cinnamon and sugar. I noticed it on the way over.”
She ran her hand from the top of her head to the ends of her short hair. She tucked it behind her ear, but it sprang right back out.
“Is this the goat yoga folder?” he asked when he started taking plates and bowls off the tray and saw the manila folder.
“Yep.”
“Can we eat first? I’m starving.” He slid the tray to her, with just her soup and cinnamon bun on it. Then he plucked the folder from the tray and set it next to him on the steps. He tore off a piece of cinnamon roll, noting how tender and soft it was. The flavor of sugar, cream cheese, cinnamon, and orange exploded in his mouth, and he groaned.
“Holy brown cows, Adele,” he said. “What are you doing on this ranch? You should be a chef.”
Chapter 7
“I want to be,” Adele said without censoring herself.
“Yeah?” he asked, his mouth still partially full of cinnamon roll. “This is the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.”
“Thank you,” she said, suddenly feeling more melancholy than she wanted to admit—or show to Carson. She felt like she was losing her mind. First, she’d invited him to her cabin for lunch. No, not inside it. But still. She’d shown interest in him. Second, she’d asked him personal questions about himself.
He wouldn’t talk about his family, and that had lifted her curiosity to astronomical levels. And now she was telling him personal things about herself.
“So what are you doing on this ranch?” he asked, dipping his spoon into the soup.
“Scarlett’s my best friend. She needed help, and I needed a job.”
“So you’re not a chef.” He wasn’t really asking, but he was eating the soup at the speed of light.
Adele picked up her spoon and took a bite too, buying herself some time to answer him. The soup was spicy and sweet, savory and warm in her mouth and stomach. She took a few more bites and said, “Culinary school is expensive.”
“Mm,” he said.
“And I’m forty-three-years-old,” she said. “It feels like I missed my chance.”
“Aw, that’s not true,” he said, still not looking at her. “Look at me. I’m thirty-eight, and I just sold the only ranch and home I’ve ever known. If this old cowboy can learn new tricks, you can go to culinary school.” He nudged her with his elbow, and Adele smiled at him.
It was easier to smile than tell the truth. He didn’t want to hear about Hank anyway. She didn’t want to detail the hundreds of thousands of dollars she owed because of her ex-husband.
“Have you always worked a ranch?” he asked, looking at her with those blue-green eyes. She’d never noticed what color they were, as she’d always interacted with him through the red haze of anger.
“No,” she said. “I was a yoga instructor and a massage therapist in another life.”
He didn’t miss a beat before saying, “I’ve got this really tight spot on my shoulder here.” He turned his back toward her. “It could use the touch of a good masseuse.”
“Nice try,” she said, but she couldn’t help smiling.
“If I paid you, would you rub it out?”
“No,” she said.
“Why not?” He gazed at her evenly, not a speck of malice or teasing in his tone.
So she couldn’t tell him if she put her hands on him, she’d want to kiss him. “I don’t do that anymore,” she said.
“But you’re going to do the yoga.”
“Goat yoga,” she corrected. “And you should look at that folder.”
“Am I going to need a massage after the goat yoga?”
She giggled—giggled—and shrugged. “With your big old shoulders? Probably, especially if that one is already sore.”
He picked up the folder, a goofy grin on his face that made him twice as good-looking as he already was. “Let’s see what we’ve got here.”
Adele looked away while he scanned several week’s worth of her hard work. She needed to show it all to Scarlett too, but she was hoping she and Carson could do that together. Sort of like a united front.
A few minutes later, he closed the folder and picked up the very middle of his cinnamon roll. He’d saved the best bite for last, and Adele had to appreciate that.
“So let me get this straight,” he said after he’d swallowed. ‘You’re going to charge people twenty-five dollars to come to the ranch, go into a pen with thirteen baby goats, and do yoga.”
“Yes,” she said.
“For an hour.”
“Well, the yoga is only forty-five minutes,” she said. “Then there’s a fifteen-minute Q&A, picture opportunities, and goat petting.”
“Goat petting,” he repeated. “And you’ll be doing the yoga with people.”
“Yep.”
“And I’ll be….”
“The goat wrangler,” she said. “You’ll get the goats out of their pens and into the arena. You’ll put the goats away. You’ll keep an eye on all the goats during the session, you know, make sure people aren’t misbehaving.”
“The people aren’t misbehaving.”
“Oh, the goats know exactly what to do,” she said. “And you’ll be walking around the group, so that everyone gets an authentic goat yoga experience. The babies love graham crackers, and you’ll just keep some of those with you. You’ll be like the Pied Piper, but with goats.” She looked at him, expecting him to laugh. He didn’t.
Instead, he looked at the closed folder and back to her. “I want to see the goats.”
“Just waiting on you, cowboy.”
He smiled as he stacked his dishes and put them on the tray. He courteously kept his back to her as she edged inside her cabin, and then they set off across the lawn again, the folder of information tucked under his far arm.
“Are you skeptical?” she asked. “I have videos I can show you.”
“Skeptical is a good word,” he said. “But you know what, Adele? I don’t know you all that well, but you seem like a smart woman to me.”
She glowed with warmth with his compliment, and her fingers brushed his when she stepped. Every cell in her body twittered at her, and when they stepped again, she laced her fingers through his. “Thank you, Carson.” She squeezed once and let go of his hand, her own burning with the touch of him.
He exhaled slowly, and she wondered what that was about. She didn’t want to ask, so she kept her mouth shut except to say, “I named all the goats when I got here. Gramps said none of the animals had names, except the dogs. So that was one of the first things Scarlett and I did.”
“Hmm.”
“The adult goats are named after candy bars,” she said. “And the babies are after ice cream flavors.”
He chuckled, the sound deep and rich and floating on the air between them. “Which one’s your favorite?”
“Rocky Road.”
“The goat or the flavor?”
“Both,” she said. “What about you?”
“Well, I haven’t met the goats yet, but I’m partial to lime sherbet.”
Her heart fell right through her ribs. “I didn’t name a goat that.” And Sherbet was a great name for a goat. What had she been thinking?
His aquamarine eyes practically sparkled at her from underneath that hat. “That’s too bad. Guess we’ll have to go to town and
get ice cream then.”
Adele didn’t say no, though the word teemed just below her tongue. She didn’t say yes either, but instead opened the gate to the arena and went in before him. He followed, closing the gate behind him like a true cowboy would.
“This is where the yoga will take place,” she said. “I’ve almost got it leveled, and I’m bringing in straw. I need to meet with Scarlett, and we’ll get yoga mats. After that, it’s just goats, people, and graham crackers that we need.”
“They really like graham crackers?” He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked around.
“Yes.” She walked along the back fence. “The goats are kept here during the night, and I let them out to graze during the day.” She opened another gate and went through it. “They’ve got outdoor arenas here, and a barn with stalls.”
“How many goats do you have total?”
“Um, thirty-four?” Adele thought out loud when she continued with, “Thirteen babies, and twenty-one adults. That’s thirty-four.”
“Yes, it is.” Carson moved forward and leaned against the fence. “They’re out to pasture?”
“With the cattle,” she said. “Which you’re in charge of too, by the way,” she said. “I think I forgot to mention that.”
He looked at her for a long moment, and Adele thought she might be able to dive right into those eyes.
“So.” She cleared her throat and walked toward the door that led into the barn. “Do you want to see them in action?”
“The goats?”
“Yes, the goats.” She took a package of graham crackers from the shelf and handed them to him. “Small pieces. And they have to jump on me before they get one. Jump and stay for a few seconds. They can’t just jump up and get down right away.”
“So you’re training them like dogs.”
“Yes,” she said. “Exactly like that.”
He followed her through the barn and into a pasture, the nearness of him throwing her out of equilibrium. Before she’d met him, she’d known exactly what she wanted: Pay off her debts and go to culinary school. She still wanted those things, but now she was mentally trying to calculate how to include him in her plans.
Which made absolutely no sense. She’d known him for three days now, and seventy-five percent of that time, she’d been annoyed by him.
“Hey, babies,” she cooed to the goats who were clustered right by the gate. She counted them quickly, asking, “Where’s Vanilla?” before glancing out further into the pasture. The small white goat came trotting as quickly as she could, but she was on the small side and had obviously been further out than the other goats.
“Come on,” she said. “We have to show this cowboy how we can jump up.” She opened the gate and ushered them into the outer pen, then walked around it to a gate she’d had Sawyer put in last week.
She pointed to it. “You open this one,” she said. “Give me one of those crackers.”
He complied, and she walked over to the gate that would take them into the yoga arena. “All right.” She held up the cracker while he opened the gate, and all thirteen baby goats made a beeline for her.
Pride filled her chest, and she couldn’t help grinning at her little goats. Then Carson. “All right, cowboy. Come watch this.” She entered the arena after the goats, breaking off pieces of cracker and treating all of them while murmuring praises at them.
She spread a thick blanket on the ground and got down on her hands and knees. Foolishness blipped through her—until a goat jumped right up on her back.
“Good,” she said. “Carson, you treat him. Then tell him to get down.”
Carson hurried over and did as she said, and almost instantly, another goat jumped on her back. She laughed, and while sometimes the hooves pressed on a tender area, for the most part, the babies were light enough for a person to handle.
She changed positions, lifting a leg or an arm, doing some lower back stretches, whatever she could to tilt her body and still get a goat to balance on her.
When all thirteen had demonstrated their abilities, she got up and brushed off her jeans. “See?”
Carson gaped at her, wonder in his eyes. The graham cracker package was still almost full, and he looked from it to the goats to her. Then he swept her right into his arms. For one terrifying moment, she thought he’d kiss her. But he simply held her close to him, and it was glorious and wonderful.
He released her as quickly as he’d embraced her. “That was phenomenal,” he said, a little breathlessly. “I mean, it was awesome. They did great.” He bent down and patted Mint Chocolate Chip, a huge grin on his face. “Will they jump on me?”
“They better,” she said. “Get down there, cowboy. Don’t be afraid to get those jeans dirty.”
“No problem,” he said with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “I’ll just throw these out and get a new pair out for tomorrow.”
She couldn’t help laughing with him, and he made getting down on his hands and knees look like the sexiest move a man could made. Minty jumped on him in the next moment and looked at Adele as if to say, “Treat now, please.”
She gave him a bit of cracker and pointed to the ground. Minty didn’t get off right away, but turned in a full circle on Carson’s back, which caused him to groan as he laughed. Adele beamed at the goat, treated him again, and pointed to the ground.
He got down, and another goat jumped up. “This is Cookie Dough,” she said. “Female goat. About nine pounds.”
“She feels like ninety pounds on my back.”
“Oh, you’re such a big baby.” Adele laughed as Carson went down on his elbows and another goat—Strawberry—leapt up on him, spun, and got down, all before Adele would give her a cracker.
He laughed as he got up and dusted off his hands and knees. “That was great, Adele. I can’t wait to see if people here will take to this.”
“I think they will,” she said, her nerves suddenly firing. She needed them to. She could make four hundred dollars per session if she could fill them. Scarlett’s part of the money would go to maintaining the goats, caring for them, providing food and medical attention. And Adele’s earnings would go a long way toward saving for culinary school.
“My market research suggests people will go crazy for this.”
“When does it start?” he asked.
“I’m thinking a couple of weeks,” she said. “On a Saturday morning. I need to meet with Scarlett, and then maybe you and I can work together to prepare the marketing materials.”
“Sure,” he said easily, still fixated on the goats.
“See?” she said. “People like them. Even you like them.”
“I do,” he said, lifting his eyes to hers. “I really do like them.”
Adele ducked her head, because it felt like he was saying more than what he’d actually articulated. Feeling brave and bold when her stomach was really quaking, she linked her arm through his and plucked a graham cracker from the package.
“All right, enough for one day. Have you seen the Canine Club yet? Ted and Tony would love it there.”
Chapter 8
Carson woke for a few mornings in a row, his memories of the day before full of Adele’s perfume, her curvy legs as she did yoga poses and called to him to move around her and through the goats to make sure they all could jump up and down off a person, and no fighting.
They hadn’t been fighting, and he smiled on Friday morning as he got up and stepped into the shower. As he brewed coffee and put an English muffin in the toaster. As he delivered Ted and Tony to the Canine Club, where they’d been spending their days with other dogs.
Adele had been right—his dogs did love the big open space with trees, places to dig, and other dogs.
Carson spent his mornings with pigs, llamas, and horses, and his afternoons with Adele. It was the best way to end a day that he’d ever had, and he didn’t mind the time he spent on the ranch before lunch either.
He went out onto the porch, the clear day ahead of him holding m
ore hope than he’d experienced in a long time. For a moment, he let his eyes drift upward, as if he’d give the glory of the day to God.
His phone went off as he walked down the road, his two dogs at his side. A smile lit his whole being when he saw Adele’s name on his screen. She’d never texted before lunchtime, and he read her message quickly.
Come to the homestead as quickly as you can. Our Saturday session is full already!
“Full already?” Carson looked up as if the people who’d bought a ticket to their first goat yoga session would already be at the ranch, suited up in spandex, and ready to begin.
He increased his pace, deciding to take his dogs with him to the homestead first. Last night, he’d spent a couple of hours with Adele—on her steps—going over her marketing plan and how to get the word out. He’d checked and double-checked her sign-up form to make sure the automation worked and customers got their tickets emailed to them immediately upon purchase.
And together, they’d made the Last Chance Ranch website live, posted on Facebook, and been reassured via text that their flyers were up in the grocery stores and would go out in various emails for local attractions the next morning.
This morning.
Like, an hour ago.
And they’d filled their first session already? He jogged across the lawn, his dogs thinking he was going to give them an adventure. As he took the stairs up to the front door, he heard feminine laughter and figured it was safe to go inside without knocking.
He did, only to find Scarlett and Adele bouncing up and down as they laughed. He watched them for a moment, their joy radiating through him. Then he cleared his throat, and Adele’s eyes moved to him.
She sobered quickly, and said, “So we’d like to go over a few logistics.” Pure professionalism resided in her voice. “Do you have a few minutes?” She looked into the kitchen, where Hudson stood. Carson hadn’t even seen him, as he only seemed to have eyes for the curvy blonde in front of him.
