Sweet Wild of Mine

by Laurel Kerr

  But these two were different. They reminded Honey of bees, full of energy as they buzzed at each other. Yes, these two could sting if properly motivated.

  Honey smiled as she scurried up a pole of the goat pen. With one swift nudge of her nose, she lifted the latch. Hanging on to the gate, she used her body weight to swing it open. The silly goats immediately bolted for the exit.

  Honey shimmied back to the ground. The Giant One was busy tripping over the horned creatures, but the Blond One stood upright. As Honey scampered away, she made sure the female spied her. It was time to make her presence known. After all, what was the point of starting a game if her opponent didn’t know she was a player?

  Chapter 4

  Magnus was not sure what had happened. One moment he was arguing with the barmy lass, and the next, he was surrounded by a blasted herd of bleating, screaming goats. He’d just started to pivot away from June when two kids darted between his legs. The blighted things must have mistaken him for some sort of shelter as they twined about his ankles. Caught off-balance, he felt his massive frame sway. He couldn’t right himself without stepping on one of the cloven beasties. And, as much as goats annoyed him, he didn’t wish to crush them under his weight.

  Twisting his body, he managed to avoid the wee bastards, but he ended up crashing to the gravel path with a painful thump. Since Magnus couldn’t use his arms to brace his fall, his back collided with the ground, knocking the wind out of him. As he lay gasping like a landed sea trout, one of the wee devils climbed on his chest while the other started eating his hair. Magnus could only lie there as he tried sucking air back into his lungs.

  Suddenly, June appeared in his vision, her blond hair hanging around her face like a golden curtain. For once, mirth didn’t sparkle in her bonny green eyes. To his surprise, real concern shone there instead. If he hadn’t met her already, he’d say she looked like an angel hovering over him.

  “Are you okay?” she asked. “You hit the ground pretty hard.”

  He would have reassured her, but that would have required oxygen. Her mouth twisted, and she reached down and lifted a bleating goat off his body. That helped, marginally. Using his eyes, he gestured to the one chewing his hair. She removed that one too. “You just breathe easy now, you hear?”

  He had no choice but to listen. As he sprawled spread-eagle on the ground, the lass stood guard, a squirming kid under each arm. A couple adult goats tried to clamber on his body, but June shooed them away. It was odd, he thought, having someone watch over him. His da would have called him a muckle nyaff and left him in disgust for tripping over his own feet.

  Finally, Magnus could breathe again. He slowly raised himself on his elbows and then almost plopped right back down. The manky goats were all over the path. How the hell had they escaped?

  “A honey badger let them out,” June explained.

  Magnus swung his gaze toward her in disbelief. A honey badger had caused all this? What would possess the wee beastie to open the pen?

  “By its size, I think it was the female, Honey. I saw her darting away just after you fell.”

  “Baws.” Magnus finally managed.

  “If you’re okay, I’ll go put these two critters back in their home before we get the rest,” June said, lifting the kids in her arms. They bleated loudly in protest. Magnus nodded. As he heaved himself to his feet, June dropped the two bairns back in the paddock.

  Sighing heavily, Magnus took after two of the goats. They screamed like banshees and darted away. Magnus swore. He hated chasing the slippery wee devils. Give him a cow or even a pig over these bastards.

  “I don’t think we need to run them down,” June said.

  He swung toward her, irritated. He doubted she’d done much farming. “How do you propose we get them back in the pen then, lass?”

  She smirked, that gleam back in her green eyes. “Strategy.”

  Then, she reached down and grabbed a metal feed bucket hanging from the corner of the pen. She smashed it against the steel gate, the sound ringing sharply through the air. The fainting goats toppled and hopped everywhere, and Magnus had to admit it made corralling them easier. Aye, the lass was a clever one even if a pain in the arse.

  She grabbed the wee ones, while he hoisted the adults. They had to bang the gate a few more times, but they managed to quickly clear the path of goats. When the last bleating bastard was dumped back in its home, Magnus turned to regard his unexpected helper. The cold and the exertion had brought color to June’s cheeks, making her bonnier than ever. She was as fair and delicate as the fae folk in the German tales, and just as devious. And something about her made Magnus wonder what the price of kissing a fairy would be.

  Too steep. Much too steep.

  “Thank you. I b-b-best be going now.”

  June grinned at him, and he felt an unwilling tug in the vicinity of his heart. “We make a good team, don’t we?”

  He grunted.

  “You know how you can thank me?” she asked, her voice bright and eager. “You could talk to my na…”

  Magnus leaned toward the lass, and, for one mad moment, he almost pressed his lips against her pink ones. He was close enough to feel the puff of her breath. Her eyes widened ever so slightly, and he could see anticipation and awareness swimming in those green depths. To his surprise, she didn’t push him away. She stood there, just as frozen as one of those daft fainting goats.

  “Not going to happen, lass,” he said. He wasn’t sure if he was talking to her or to himself or whether he was referring to snogging or chatting with her nana. The disappointment that flared in her emerald depths echoed the surprising twinge inside him. Magnus didn’t heed the sensation, though. Instead, he turned on his heel and headed to the supply shed to start hauling feed for the day.

  It wasn’t until long afterward, when he was mucking out the llama shed with Abby chattering next to him about the new baby polar bear, that a thought struck him. Except for that one long block, he’d barely stuttered in June’s presence. Had scarcely thought about it even. Which never happened.

  * * *

  The next morning, Magnus woke to the sounds of a hungry cub. Rolling off the surprisingly comfortable air mattress, he stood with a yawn. Walking while stretching, he headed over to Sorcha. Bowie had offered him accommodations about twenty minutes out of town, but Magnus had opted to stay at the zoo. He didn’t mind being around the animals, and the other lodging was directly behind Bowie’s in-laws, which meant neighbors. Bowie hadn’t argued with Magnus’s decision, especially since it meant more help caring for the new arrival.

  Magnus had made the right choice. It had been a productive evening. He’d started a blog like his editor wanted. Already, he was getting responses, mostly from readers who were glad he was writing about animals again.

  When he entered the nursery, the capybara lifted her head. Sorcha was too busy rooting for milk to notice his entrance. Although the cub’s eyes were open, she was still a wee thing, her movements clumsy and hesitant. Her little legs splayed in all directions as she nosed the fleece blanket. The hungry squeaks grew in volume as Magnus headed over to the counter to prepare a bottle. Working quickly, he wrinkled his nose at the fishy smell of the cod-liver oil mixed into the already rich formula.

  Once the milk reached the appropriate temperature, he carefully scooped up the beastie. The bear squirmed, still searching for its mother’s teat. Magnus chuckled softly as Sorcha’s mouth closed over one of his gloved fingers. She sucked eagerly.

  “That’ll do you no good,” he chided her softly as he nudged the tip of the bottle against her black lips. The bear quickly latched on to the rubber nipple. Slurping sounds filled the nursery as Sorcha gulped down her meal. The capybara gave a huge sigh and settled her massive head back down on the blankets. Content that her charge was being well cared for, her dark, almond-shaped eyes drifted shut.

  “Aye,” Magnus
told her softly. “Get your rest while you can. You’re a good mum.”

  When Sorcha finished her bottle, Magnus let her suckle a little longer. Polar bear cubs loved to suck, and if they didn’t get the need satisfied, they’d latch on to their own feet and leave the pads raw.

  When Sorcha’s eyes began to drift closed, Magnus gently placed her beside the capybara. The cub instinctually burrowed into the older animal’s warmth. Sylvia lifted her massive head to nuzzle the wee beastie before returning to sleep.

  “She’s amazing with orphans, isn’t she?”

  At the quiet whisper, Magnus turned to find Bowie standing in the doorway. The zookeeper’s gray eyes were soft as he watched the slumbering capybara and cub. It was strange, working with someone who cared as much about animals as Magnus did. His da had considered affection for livestock foolish. In his mind, the creatures under a man’s dominion were merely a duty and a means to making a living, nothing more.

  The wee bear chose that moment to sigh gustily. Its little belly, already rounded with milk, heaved with the effort. The capybara’s ear twitched as if listening for any signs of distress. Hearing none, Sylvia made her own contented sound.

  “Aye,” Magnus said, answering Bowie’s question about the rodent.

  “I’m able to take over cub-watching duties for a few hours.” Bowie’s voice stayed low in deference to the sleeping animals. “You can go back to bed if you want.”

  Magnus shook his head sharply and carefully spoke one of the lines he’d used to avoid stuttering in front of his da. “I’ll go feed the animals.”

  Bowie nodded. “Breakfast will be served in two hours up at the house if you want any.”

  Magnus had no intention of spending his mornings cooped up in a scullery with Bowie’s family. Even though he found he didn’t mind the young lassie’s chatter, he appreciated a peaceful start to the day. There was something calming about spending the sunrise surrounded by the sounds of waking animals and the smell of dirt and hay.

  Magnus shook his head again. “I’m fine.”

  “Okay,” Bowie said. Magnus dipped his chin in response as he left the nursery and headed down the hall to the supply room. It didn’t take him long to heft the feed bags into the zoo’s first-generation side-by-side. His father would have scoffed at the vehicle that looked like a golf cart and an American pickup truck had produced a child. Although Magnus felt a bit absurd wedging his burly body into the driver’s seat, it made moving feed easier, and the zoo, small as it was, dwarfed his da’s island croft.

  Magnus worked quickly, enjoying the quiet emptiness. The land was different than Orkney, drier and less varied, despite the mountains in the distance. It was jarring to see the red dirt beneath his boots instead of grass, black mud, and rock. He missed the tangy smell of the ocean and the sound of the waves crashing against the cliff. But the sense of solitude was the same. Instead of being marooned by a blue-green sea, he was surrounded by dust and sagebrush.

  He finished his morning rounds at the grizzly’s enclosure. Frida was snoring softly, her head on her favorite rock. Following the proper protocol, Magnus slipped a dish of red meat and berries into her enclosure. Her nose twitched once. One eye popped open. Her snout wiggled again. Then the other eye appeared. With a slumberous sigh, the huge beastie lifted her massive body. After giving her head a good shake, she ambled over to the pile of food. She inspected it with her massive paw, turning it over.

  “Does it suit?” Magnus asked.

  The bear gave one more giant sniff and began to eat greedily. Magnus grinned at the bear’s enthusiasm and leaned against the fence to watch. “Aye, I see it does.”

  Frida ignored him. Her interest remained focused on her food.

  “There’s a new arrival,” Magnus told her. “A wee bear named Sorcha. Bowie said he might introduce the two of you since you tolerate the manky honey badgers. He hopes you’ll be best mates.”

  Frida took the last bite and grunted her dismay. She swung around, her snout in the air as she tried to scent more food. With her rheumy eyes, she needed to rely on smell more than sight.

  “That’s all, lass,” Magnus told her. “Bowie said you were on a diet.”

  The bear emitted a grumbling growl. Looking downright fashed, the bruin lumbered back to her rock. Then with a beleaguered sound halfway between a grunt and a growl, she plopped on the ground. Within seconds, she fell asleep.

  Chuckling softly, Magnus pushed back from the fence. Checking his watch, he realized it was too early to head to the Prairie Dog Café, and he did not want to attempt June Winters’s tea shop. The zoo still hadn’t opened, and Magnus decided he could do with a spot of quiet. Finding a bench near the prairie-dog enclosure, he settled down to watch the little creatures dart in and out of their holes. He’d never seen the like, and their antics amused him. When the wee beasties caught sight of him, a couple stood on their hind legs and called out a warning to their brethren. In a flurry of scampering feet and raised black-tipped tails, the whole colony took cover. Holding his large frame very still, Magnus watched as the rodents slowly remerged one by one. He’d write his next blog about the peculiar animals. Already, descriptions had started to form in his mind.

  Just then, his mobile rang, the sound breaking the morning stillness. The prairie-dog sentries chirped the alarm once more. A slow smile drifted across Magnus’s face as they dove into their burrows. He waited another ring until he pulled out his mobile. Glancing down, he noticed his agent’s number. Curious, he swiped to answer the call. Lauren’s crisp voice instantly filled his ears. “Hi, Magnus, I am sorry to call you so early in the morning, but Mitch had another suggestion.”

  Baws. Just when he’d thought he’d pleased the man with his blog. “It was not to his liking.” Magnus would have said more, but he didn’t want to risk mangling his words. Neither his agent nor his editor knew the extent of his stutter. He was sure they’d caught a vocal tic here or there, but he’d been careful around them for years.

  “No, he loved it. He’s over the moon about the comments you’re getting already,” Lauren said quickly. “He just wants more.”

  Magnus started to ask what his editor wanted, but his throat stiffened and his tongue felt like a great magnet adhered to the roof of his mouth, so he waited for his agent to fill the silence.

  “He’d like you to vlog.”

  Dread, as baltic and bitter as the arctic wind, swept through Magnus, chilling him from the inside out. He would have repeated the word vlog, but he knew it would come out v-v-v-v-vlog.

  “Now, it is up to you,” his agent said, “but I agree with him. You need to be more accessible to readers, especially since your books are almost memoirs. Your fans want to feel like they know you.”

  Magnus pressed his fingers against the bridge of his nose and rubbed. He could not speak on camera, even if it was a recorded piece he could edit.

  “Will you do it?” Lauren asked. “It has a lot of potential, and Mitch seemed very enthused with the idea.”

  Did he really have a choice? Mitch had indicated he had to fight with the editorial board to get this book accepted, and Lauren hadn’t finished negotiating the terms of his contract. And Magnus wanted this book to do well. Mitch was the one who’d helped propel his first bestseller to success, and Magnus had learned to trust the publishing veteran’s expertise.

  “Aye,” Magnus said. “I will.”

  He didn’t bloody well know how, but he was used to slogging through all kinds of shite. Other people with stutters ended up with careers in movies, television, and talk radio. He could do a manky vlog. Somehow.

  He ended the call and stared at the prairie dogs chittering away again. If he wrote out his lines ahead of time and practiced, he’d manage. He could show more footage of animals doing cute and amusing things. People always found that to be pure magic.

  “Well, at least I know now I’m not the only on
e who puts a scowl on your face,” June said.

  Magnus turned to find the annoying blond carrying a brown bag and a takeout cup wrapped in a cardboard sleeve. Baws, the woman was bringing provisions now. Was she planning on making the zoo her damn home?

  “If you’re about to tell me a frown is an upside-down smile or some other pish like that, hold your wheesht.” It struck him, once again, that he had less trouble speaking around the lass. It made no sense, but that was the way of it.

  “I actually just ducked out of the tea shop to bring you a tattie scone. You said you liked them yesterday. I have tea too.”

  Magnus eyed the brown bag with a mixture of longing and suspicion. He hadn’t eaten, and the thought of a hot meal caused a low rumble in the pit of his belly. But he didn’t know what the lass would demand in return.

  “I d-d-d-don’t take bribes.” His voice caught on the d, but June’s expression didn’t change. To his surprise, she didn’t look away either. As he gazed into her grass-green eyes, he found himself sliding easily into the next sound.

  When he finished speaking, June shook the bag and plastered a sweet, guileless smile on her face. “I’m just being neighborly.”

  “We’re not p-p-precisely neighbors.”

  “We live in the same small town, so I say that makes us neighbors,” June told him cheerfully as she placed the food on the bench next to him. The smell from it made his stomach clench.

  “I’ll just leave it here, and you can eat it if you want or toss it in the trash. It’s yours. No strings attached.”

  For once, the dafty woman turned to leave him in peace. But no sooner had she started to disappear around the bend than Magnus heard himself calling her name. She turned expectantly.

  “I need your help.” To Magnus’s surprise, the words poured from him with surprising ease. He’d been raised by his da to live self-sufficiently. A man didn’t go asking for help like a peedie bairn. He took care of himself without pleeping.