Page 9 of He Falls First
Is this because of the pills? Or is there something else?
Whatever it is, I decide that, despite her impulsiveness, she’s being responsible. So we take the safe route, and instead of beer, we slam some plain apple cider.
She wipes her chin, then shoves a cider donut into her face. I smile as I watch her lick the cinnamon sugar from her fingertips. Suddenly, her eyes widen. “Who is that?”
Esme’s looking at someone behind me.
I turn around and a tall, very cute firefighter cuddles a tiny, fluffy goat against his massive chest.
“A hot guy with farm animals, flirting with you?” I suggest, turning back to her.
Esme shakes her head. “No way. He’s staring at you, not me.”
That is simply not the case. Why would anyone be looking at me when I’m standing next to what amounts to a woman who looks like a 90s supermodel? Christy Turlington, to be exact. I’vebeen trying to place the eyes, the nose…the girl is straight out of the George Michael videos. My mother couldn’t be bothered to make sure I got to school every day, but she did have good taste in music.
I look back again, and now I see it. It does seem like that guy is looking at me. In a bout of self-consciousness, I look over my outfit. Did I spill cider all over myself? Is my shoe untied? Do I look like I need rescuing from a burning building?
Giving him a confused look, I point at myself. The firefighter does the cool-guy chin nod in response.
Oh. He must need help with something. That’s the only thing I can think of.
“Come on, I think he needs assistance getting out of that animal pen.”
Behind me, Esme sighs. “I think he wants to drag you into the pen and do what farm animals do.”
“Esme!” I shriek. I’m blushing to beat the band, and I don’t know why. I’m no prude.
The heiress grips my shoulder as we walk over in the man’s direction. “Shh.”
Right. I’m being loud, and I’ll be giving away her identity if I keep that up. People do not need to know Esme Bryant is here. That will cause a scene, and I’m sure one that Frye will not approve of.
“Did you need something?” I ask the firefighter with the honey-colored hair. I try not to let my eyes drift down to his tanned arms, where his shirt sleeves stretch over his biceps so tightly that they’re about to rip the seams like the Incredible Hulk.
“Honey, could you take the baby for a minute? The nanny is eating my pants.”
“Uh…what?”
The man doesn’t answer but hands over the baby goat. I’ve never actually handled a farm animal before. I’ve never even ridden a horse, so I’m not handling this well. “Oh…wait…I don’t…oh, OK. Hi, little guy.”
“That’s Wesley,” says the hunky firefighter.
Wesley immediately settles into my arms like he belongs there. Esme chuckles next to me and coos as we pet the baby goat’s head and soft coat.
Meanwhile, the firefighter guy picks up another goat and puts it into a separate pen with the rest of the larger goats. “I’m putting you in time out, Bella.”
When he comes back to take the baby goat off my hands, I see what he’s talking about. The mother goat has chewed a hole right through the material covering his thigh.
“Oh no!” I say. “Your uniform is ruined.”
He waves it off. “Wouldn’t be the first time an ornery female has tried to chew my clothes off.”
Does he hear the words in his head before he says them out loud?
“You lost me,” I say.
“Oh, I meant the goats. They’ll eat anything, including flame-retardant Kevlar and Ripstop weave.”
“I don’t know what any of that is, but I got the gist,” I laugh. “Do you want to take your baby now?”