Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 44474 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 222(@200wpm)___ 178(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44474 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 222(@200wpm)___ 178(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” she called out, stopping in her tracks at the end of the aisle. “Hey, Hudson?”
“Yeah?”
“Moody played ‘Jingle Bell Rock’ at the store earlier today. That’s kind of a big deal ’cause it’s a downright happy song, so…thank you.”
I furrowed my brow in amused confusion. “That’s great, but that’s not me.”
“Oh, yes, it is.” She waved and disappeared a moment later.
Okay, that was cryptic and odd, but also…sweet.
Buzz buzz.
Allspice is also known as Jamaica pepper or myrtle pepper. Contrary to popular belief, it is not a combination of spices, but its own distinct spice. Its flavor is reminiscent of cinnamon, clove, and nutmeg. If you’ve exhausted all options, we can make do with a homemade blend. However, my alchemy skills are rusty.
I took a photo of the allspice and sent it to Moody. Allspice, all good.
Smiley face emoji. Magnificent!
I snorted at the exchange, but I was grinning like a fool. I was doing that a lot lately. Was it regular sex with a beautiful, interesting man or was it something else? Hard to say. I just knew I was…happy.
I liked to think Moody was too.
13
MOODY
Hudson’s kitchen was definitely smaller than mine. He was short on prep space, and I had no idea where we’d assemble the gingerbread ranch. Maybe on the round dining table in the corner where the baby goat was munching a carrot and—
I gasped and jumped a foot in the air, or at least a few inches. “There’s a creature—a critter…in your house.”
Hudson hummed distractedly as he bent to retrieve something from the refrigerator. “A critter? Oh, that’s just Nelly. I’ll introduce you in a sec. How about some eggnog? We can spike it with a little bourbon and—”
“Uh…yes, yes, fine, just…Nelly?” I swiped my clammy palms on my shirt, scanning my internal databank for information about this particular animal. I came up blank. “You have a pet goat?”
I didn’t know squat about goats, except that they generally lived in barns. No…wait. I vaguely recalled an acquaintance in grad school who’d claimed to be a goat. Or maybe an otter or a furry or—oh, dear. Oh, dear, not the same thing.
Pull it together, Moody.
Hudson set a carton of eggnog on the counter, then bent to gather the goat in his arms. “Come meet, Moody, Nell. Don’t be shy. He’s a sweetheart.”
“Are you talking to me or the goat?”
Hudson laughed. “Yes. Nelly is a flirt. She follows Tanner everywhere, but she’s taken a shine to me too. This is the third day in a row this week I’ve found her waiting at the gate behind my yard.”
“But she’s inside your domain. Is that…okay?”
“Sure. She won’t get into much trouble in the kitchen, but we’re gonna take her home before we start cooking, anyway. Want to pet her?”
“Um…sure.” I gnawed my bottom lip and inched closer, gently brushing my hand on the soft tuft of hair on Nell’s head. She didn’t flinch or even seem to notice me at all. She was besotted with the big, burly man cradling her in his arms. I couldn’t blame her.
“That’s it. Good girl. I told you he was a good egg, Nell. A little fussy sometimes, but nothing we can’t handle,” Hudson cooed.
“Hey,” I grumbled without heat, petting her long ears. “She is pretty cute, and she—”
“Baaaaa!”
I jumped again and this time, I bounced into the counter and knocked over a measuring cup and a spatula. Nelly bleated in earnest at the racket, wiggling out of Hudson’s arms and tearing around the kitchen table in circles. Every time he tried to catch her, she’d hop away like a demented bunny.
At first it was alarming. This tiny creature was wreaking havoc, skidding across the floor and bouncing off cabinets and chairs, darting out of reach at the last possible second.
And then, well…I had to admit it was gosh-darn funny. Hudson was so big, and Nelly was so tiny and quick, and the ridiculousness of a goat dodging capture like a child playing tag with an old geezer was slapstick comedy gold. I was not immune. At all.
On Nelly’s fourth lap, I lost my composure. A snicker morphed into a fit of giggles and eventually dissolved into uproarious laughter. I flopped onto the nearest chair, doubled over with tears in my eyes. My feverish cackling and Nelly’s bleating echoed in the small confines. Poor Hudson gave up the chase, raking his hand through his hair, the picture of a man at wit’s end.
“Holy crap. I don’t know where to begin.” He kneeled to grab the carrot Nelly had abandoned earlier and glanced my way. “Are you okay? I can’t tell if you’re crying or—”
“I’m fine. I’m—baa.” And yes, I was laughing again…so hard that I slipped off the chair.
“Hold that thought. Gotcha!” Hudson swooped the goat in his arms and sat cross-legged on the floor next to me. He offered Nelly the carrot and sighed with relief as she nibbled away as if nothing had happened.