“I think it’s probably just sore. I don’t feel any breaks.”
Of course, Becki would know how to feel for breaks and injury. She runs a sanctuary, but still. She’s so confident. Calm. And her hands…
She starts tugging at my…laces—laces, you perv. Becki works the laces undone. I have to twist my leg a little to make it happen, but soon, I feel things getting loose in the boot. My foot just slides out like it’s been coated in grease, and I careen straight to the ground. I manage to get my hands up to keep from smashing my head, but I still let out a whmpf sound as I hit the ground. I tuck and roll and lie on my back, facing the sky.
I have to admit I’m a tad winded, or maybe it’s just the burning shame of the whole situation, but when I come up, I’m staring straight into a set of big, dark brown eyes and a soft brown muzzle.
“Mooooo,” Moobelle says right into my face. Her big pink tongue appears, fast as a bolt of lightning descending from the sky, and she sweeps it over my face from top to bottom.
I can’t tell you how disturbing it is to taste cow saliva in my own mouth. It’s even more earthy than it smells—like freshly cut grass.
Becki laughs wildly from the other side of the fence. As I scramble to my feet, she tugs my boot free and passes it through. “Moobelle likes you.”
Frantically, I do my best to wipe the cow slime off my face. Too bad I’m wearing a t-shirt, and I’m not going to brush it all over the place with my bare arm. Instead, I wipe my hands on my jeans while trying not to think about the cost of them and wondering if cow spit comes out easily in the laundry.
“You’re okay?” Becki asks. She covers her hand with the back of her mouth. “I’m sorry for laughing. I’m not laughing about you. I’m really not. Or not at you, at any rate. Just…with you.”
I’m not laughing. I can’t even smile, but I don’t blame her for thinking this is pathetically humorous. I’m not so glad to be the afternoon’s entertainment for her because I feel even more stranded here and totally out of my element. If I landed on a deserted island somewhere with hostile monkeys throwing coconuts at me, trying to nail me in the junk like a bullseye, I don’t think I’d feel worse.
Becki passes my boot over, and I take it. I slip it on, do up the laces quickly, and climb the fence this time. When I land on the grass beside her, she arches a brow.
“Um, next time, please don’t jump the fence. There are much worse things that could have happened. I promise none of the animals here will hurt you.”
“That chicken clucked at me.”
“Yeah, because she was probably just saying hi, or she wanted you to pet her.”
“She looked murderous.”
“She isn’t. I promise.”
I glance to the left. “Nice garden. That’s what I was coming out to see.”
Becki stares at me so hard that it’s unnerving. I can’t imagine what’s going on behind those bright blue eyes that sparkle with intelligence and laughter. Her lips wobble as though she might laugh again, but she manages to keep it in. I’m struck by how absolutely beautiful she is, and it’s an absurd thought because she’s not dressed fancy, is wearing no makeup, is covered in grime and sweat, and has bits of hay in her messy hair. Again. I’ve thought this before—that she’s beautiful. And then I also thought about how absurd that notion is.
Anyway, it’s absurd because I’m not here for her. I’m here for my grandfather. Becki looks like the type of woman who a) prefers the company of animals to humans, which is rather obvious based on what she does, and b) could arm wrestle me into the ground. Those boots she’s wearing look like they might be steel-toed, and also, something tells me if she caught me staring at her in that I find you strangely attractive, and I don’t know why, so I’m going to creep for a few more seconds and make it very obvious in the end that I’m still sporting an unfathomable hard on kind of way, she’d kick me in said unfathomable hard on.
No, she’s too nice for that. She’d just shake her head and spend the rest of the day moving her shit out into the barn.
“You won’t jump any more fences?”
“No, of course not.” I hesitate. “Anyway, I…have some work to do. I brought everything with me, and I should probably get it set up.”
“Okay. I’ll make something for dinner if you don’t want to go into town. Can’t have you starving.”
“Will it include hummus?”
“It probably will.”