Page 32 of 10 Rings I Hate About You
Then, with exaggerated caution, he placed one cloven hoof out of the crate and sniffed the straw as though he was evaluating my interior decorating choices and finding them lacking.
The other hoof followed, more sniffing, and then he wandered around the stall, exploring every corner with his nose. He let out a satisfied snort before spotting a rope I’d forgotten was hanging over the side of the stall, and grabbed it with his teeth.
“Absolutely not,” I said, lunging forward to take it away from him. The last thing I needed was for him to get a bowel obstruction that required emergency surgery.
He jerked back, teeth and jaw clamped down in his tiny mouth, and in that moment, I understood why some people say goats are assholes.
Fine.
If he wanted to be difficult, I could be difficult, too.
I wrestled the rope away— barely—and hung it safely out of reach. Then I filled a bucket with fresh water, hung a hay net feeder, knowing I’d need to replace it with something sturdier, and watched him as he tested every corner of the stall for weaknesses like a tiny prison escape artist.
The more he became settled, the more my mind drifted.
To Delaney.
To the rules I’d given her.
To the way her voice had sharpened when she said she wouldn’t let the event be turned into a checklist.
She wasn’t wrong. But neither was I.
I ran a hand through my hair and exhaled, the air leaving my lungs in a rush. I needed to see Josh. Not because he’d fix anything. Josh wasn’t the fixing type, but he grounded me. He made things less sharp and helped me see reason when my brain was spinning out.
So when the clock read seven and the goat had stopped trying to gnaw his way to freedom, I showered, changed into a clean polo, and drove back into town.
Axe-Hole was already busy when I arrived.
The neon sign flickered in the window. Laughter spilled through the door every time someone opened it, loud and overwhelming. I hesitated for a minute or two just outside the entrance before stepping inside, bracing for the sensory impact.
Noise. Light. Movement.
My shoulders locked up immediately.
Josh spotted me from behind the bar like he had a sixth sense for my discomfort. He leaned forward, tattooed forearms braced on the counter, and raised his eyebrows.
“There he is,” he said, his voice cutting through the nearby chatter.
“I’m leaving,” I muttered.
Josh grinned. “No. You’re staying.”
I claimed a stool at the end of the bar, where I could see the door—escape route secured—and tried to ignore the way the noise pressed against my skull.
Josh slid a glass of water toward me without asking. He always did that first. He knew I needed to hydrate before I drank anything else. “You look like you’re being haunted by a ghost of your past.”
I glared at him.
He lowered his voice. “Did you meet with Delaney today?”
I chugged my drink. “No.”
“Then what’s got your panties in a twist?”
Now that he’d mentioned her, I couldn’t stop thinking about the woman who was the bane of my existence. “She thinks I’m trying to ruin her life.”
Josh’s expression softened. He’d witnessed enough of our arguments. “Are you?”
