My Southern Bride (The Texas Two-Step Series, Book 4) (11 page)

Hopping had been a fun pastime when he was a boy. But now in his thirties, it wasn't quite as easy as he'd expected. It would probably be a great core training exercise for cowboys getting ready to rope some steers.

It was all about balance.

With that encouraging thought, he hopped into the kitchen and to the pantry. Not too difficult with the right mind-set.

Swinging open the pantry door, he grabbed the radio off the top shelf.

Now the real challenge—hopping back to the sofa with a radio tucked under his arm.

By the time he returned to his seat and propped his feet up, his breathing came in puffs and pants.

The good news was that during his exertions he hadn't once thought of kissing Lori. The bad news was that now he was seated again, he couldn't get that kiss or her out of his head.

Chapter 16

Lori wanted to believe in herself. Really wanted it.

Even though Monty Joe had boosted her confidence in her abilities, events were not progressing as she'd hoped.

Cold shivered down her spine as she stood at the open barn door, waving the can of goat grain. "Here, goatie goat. Here."

Nothing.

"Billy, I've got some delicious goat grain for you."

Silence.

No matter how long she called out, no matter how much she waved the can, the goat didn't magically appear.

Her shoulders slumped.

Between Monty Joe's kiss, intended to shut her up—well, he said it was to calm her, but she suspected it was more about regaining his peace and solitude—and losing the goat, her day couldn't get much worse.

That was the problem with cowboys. They liked their quiet. They liked their solitude. And they liked hanging out under lonesome ol' moons.

She, however, was the opposite. She loved being part of a big family, with all the noise and ruckus that came with it. Sure, sometimes you couldn't hear yourself think, but a girl could always find little nooks or crannies to hide away. The bigger benefit was some member of her family would always help her chew things over, think things through—like how to deal with a hot cowboy's kiss. And specifically she missed being able to tell Kelli about Monty Joe's kiss, and how she'd liked it. A lot.

Which made his comment about calming her down irritate her even worse. If she hadn't enjoyed his kiss quite so much, then maybe she could dismiss it.

But she had, and she couldn't.

She fought the wave of humiliation flowing through her at the memory of kissing him back. Enthusiastically kissing him back.

Her shoulders slumped even further.

And Kelli wasn't available as a sounding board.

Defeated before she'd really begun, Lori reentered the barn and closed the door to keep the horses from freezing to death, too.

Which was likely Billy's fate.

The poor little guy hadn't had much fun lately. Not with the storm. Not with how he hadn't been able to play with his favorite human because he had been injured. Not with the way Billy didn't even seem to like the name said favorite human had given him.

If only she and Billy had more time together. Lori was certain she'd have found the right name for the darling, butt-butting, sweetheart of a goat.

Was she giving up too soon?

That's what her sister would have said. That she was giving up too soon.

And Kelli might have meant it in more ways than one.

The idea haunted Lori as she meandered through the barn checking on the horses. She straightened a blanket, added a toss of hay, and administered a friendly pat when needed. Surprisingly, the horses seemed to have held up okay. They responded with a nudge and an occasional whinny, as though grateful to have been so well taken care of despite the weather.

Hmm. Maybe she didn't do a completely bad job after all.

Which brought her back to her previous thought. Was she giving up too soon?

And was that like her?

"Buck up, Lori," she chastised herself. "You're a Palmer girl. Start acting like one."

Lori straightened her shirt.

Look how great she'd already become at taking care of horses. If she could learn so much so quickly, surely she had the grit to find a wayward goat.

The goat grain didn't work, but something else had to.

A horse nudged her hip, trying to get at her pocket. Then she remembered.

The apple slices.

Horses considered them a huge treat. Surely a goat would feel the same?

She pulled out the plastic bag containing apples, and removed several slices while she walked back toward the barn door. "Billy?"

Steps from the door, she heard something. Had that been a soft bleat?

Turning, she looked behind her. "Billy?"

No response. At least not immediately. Then she heard the bleat again. But from where?

"Apples, Billy. I have apples for you," she coaxed.

And was immediately met with another bleat. This time she was able to hone in on the direction of the bleat, and her eyes widened.

Up above.

In the hayloft.

Billy's head peeked over the edge, and he bleated again.

Her heart exploded with relief.

"There you are," she cried. Billy was okay. He hadn't gone far. He hadn't escaped from the barn while her back had been turned.

He'd merely climbed up to the loft, where he'd previously followed her.

The animal was far too smart for his own good.

"Come down here, Billy."

He bleated his refusal.

With all that fresh hay, he most likely had been pigging out on it.

"Then I'm coming up to get you."

She made her way up the rough stairs, really not much better than a ladder, to the loft. "Here, have some apple slices."

The goat came right to her side and gently took the apple from her fingers.

"I thought sure you were a goner, you naughty boy." Relief washed through her. "But we need to get you down from here."

She turned and headed back down, but the goat didn't follow. She pulled another apple slice from her pocket and held it out.

He came down one step to get it.

She repeated the offering with each step down she took. The animal, fortunately, followed, although a couple of times he looked back, as if he were having second thoughts.

At last they were both firmly planted back on the ground. "What goes up, must come down."

Then she grinned. "I have it! Your name!"

Chapter 17

The radio blared good news, and Monty Joe shot it a scowl. By morning the snow should start melting, and the area's normal temperatures and weather would return.

He should be elated.

But nothing in his life had been normal since the moment he'd picked Lori up from the airport.

Nothing.

Not even his response to his routine being disrupted. That usually had him as cranky as a mama rattlesnake.

Instead, he'd been grinning and laughing whenever Lori returned from her chores.

His new attitude didn't sit well with him at all.

And now this.

By morning he'd get his wish to return Lori to the airport and get her out of his life.

So why wasn't he grinning ear to ear?

Why didn't his heart leap with joy?

It had to be loneliness.

He wasn't an introspective sort of man, but with all this time on his hands, that's exactly what he'd been doing—introspecting.

When Will had suggested it was time for Monty Joe to look for a wife, his reaction hadn't been exactly friendly.

Yet the more time he had to gnaw over the idea, like a herding dog with a tasty bone, the more he came to agree with Will.

Maybe settling down and creating a family of his own someday soon wasn't a bad idea.

Monty Joe wasn't the least bit interested in sowing more oats. He'd done all that, and then some, during his rodeo glory days.

Having Lori underfoot all this time—and not hating it—illustrated how far down the trail he'd gone. Apparently any female company could cheer him up.

And if it was this good with Lori, then he could only imagine how great his life would be once he found the right woman.

He nodded. Yup. That definitely explained why the weather forecast sent his mood into the root cellar.

Or why his face lit up at the sound of the back door opening.

Lori.

He quickly snapped off the radio and hid it under the pillow cushion.

While it was fine that he knew about the upcoming clear skies, he wasn't yet ready to let Lori in on that fact.

"I found him," she called out.

A loud bleat sounded out.

"Billy," he said.

"That's where you're wrong." Lori danced into the room, excitement lighting her face and making her eyes flash with happiness.

"I'm wrong?"

"Billy isn't his name," she said, radiating self-satisfaction. "I told you he needed a more dignified name."

"Okay. I'll play along." She really was fun to be around, making even something so normal as finding his goat a cause for celebration. "What's his name?"

"Newton."

"Huh?"

"Sir Isaac Newton to be more exact."

"My goat is a scientist?"

"Well, with the way he's able to escape his pen, he's certainly one smart goat." She grinned. "Call him Billy."

"You are Billy," Monty Joe said, deliberately baiting Lori by getting it wrong.

"No, silly. Call him."

"Billy."

The animal didn't respond, but then, Monty Joe hadn't exactly expected him to.

"Now watch this." Lori swung out her arm. "Newton!"

Immediately the goat bleated and ran to her side.

"See?"

"He answers to Newton?"

Billy bleated again, this time moving next to Monty Joe.

"Amazing." He reached a hand out and scratched around Billy's—no, Newton's stubby little antlers. "So, best bud, you've got a new name."

His gaze shot to her, and she nodded with infectious good cheer.

"I told you that you had his name wrong. Didn't I?"

"You did." He hated to admit it, but he got a kick out of seeing her all lit up, like a child on Christmas morning. "So, how did you figure out his name?"

"Well, he didn't come to the goat grain."

"That's surprising."

"It won't be once I tell you where I found him."

"Where was he?"

"Hayloft."

"Mighta figured. Newton gets into every kind of trouble."

"That's probably why the two of you rub along so well together."

She had a point.