Page 6 of 10 Rings I Hate About You
Her expression shifted, and immediately I wanted to take it back. I was just—hurt. I was hurt, and apparently my mouth had decided to snap back before my brain could stop it.
This was different from my usual bluntness. This wasn’t me stating facts that landed wrong. Facts were easier than people. But facts didn’t care when you made someone feel small for being exactly who they were. Yet around Delaney, it was my defense. My go-to.
I scanned the shop for anything that might help me trap the goat long enough to shepherd it outside. My eyes landed on a large macrame wall hanging near the window—all intricate knots and natural fiber, probably blessed by monks or whatever Delaney did to her merchandise.
As I reached for it, Delaney’s eyes grew wide with horror. “No, no, no, no. Do you know how long it took me to make that?” she hissed, moving to block me. “Because I do. Three months.Three. Months. And I will never emotionally recover if you ruin it.”
Something in her tone made me pause. “Delaney, I’ll be careful?—”
“You’re about to weaponize my art against livestock!”
The goat leapt onto the nearby counter, scattering more crystals. Cheryl, Delaney’s employee, a local college student who was likely reconsidering her life choices—ducked behind the counter, shrieking.
With the macrame firmly in hand, I lunged just as Delaney did. Whether it was to stop me or help corral the goat, I’d never know. We collided, shoulder to chest, and for a brief, stupid moment, I was acutely aware of how well we moved together, even in chaos.
Just as the goat was about to make a break for the door, I wrapped the wall hanging around its midsection.
The goat gave an indignant bleat and shot me a look that I could only interpret as “How dare you!”
Delaney sagged against the counter, breathing hard. Her eyes were a weird mix of gratitude and homicidal anger. “If that’s ruined?—”
“I’ll pay for it,” I said quickly, adjusting my grip as the goat squirmed.
That seemed to mollify her slightly. “You’re damn right you will.”
“Want him?” I offered, adjusting the kicking goat’s hooves of death away from my body.
She shook her head and scratched the demon animal behind its ears. “Maybe the shelter can take him? He’d wreck my store, and besides, where would I keep him?”
The goat relaxed instantly at her touch, going from feral menace to docile pet in seconds.
Traitor.
“I’ve got to get to the clinic,” I reminded her, trying not to notice how gentle her hands were or how the goat was now staring at her like she’d hung the moon.
Delaney rolled her eyes. “You’re a vet. I’m sure you have a place to keep him while you call Theo at the shelter.”
She wasn’t wrong. I could probably keep the goat in one of the large dog crates and rig something for a feeder. I could ask my assistant, Jane, to check our inventory to see if we had any hay.
Plop-plop-plop-plopplopplopplop!
“Ew. Did he just poop?” Cheryl made a gagging sound from behind the counter.
Delaney laughed—a real laugh, not the fake one she used when she was being polite—and I tried not to catalogue how it sounded. “Can you hand me a roll of paper towels and gloves?”
Cheryl nodded and headed to a closed door behind the counter, returning quickly with the requested items and handed them to her boss.
“Well, I guess I’ll head back.” I pointed toward my practice, immediately regretting how awkward that sounded. The only time I wasn’t tongue-tied around Delaney was when we argued.
“Yeah,” she answered, already moving around me to deal with the brown pellets on the floor. “Bye.”
Feeling dismissed, I turned and walked out of the shop. As I passed over the threshold, I had to fight the urge to turn back for one more glance at a woman I had no business staring at.
The goat squirmed in my arms the further we got from Delaney, craning his neck toward the shop.
“That’s on you, bud,” I told him. “She probably would’ve kept you if you hadn’t been such a jerk and trashed her store.”
The goat bleated and tried to nip at my sleeve. As I shifted him in my grasp, the wooden pole the macrame design hung from hit my shin.
