CHAPTER 11
Jake
I see no one in the small waiting room of Whynot Veterinary when I pull open the glass door. Low murmurs come from the back, and since technically I worked here and haven’t exactly been fired, I stroll back with all the confidence in the world.
I find Laken in the first exam room with a snarling little chihuahua and a nervous-looking, matronly woman who’s wringing her hands as Laken tries to examine the dog.
Glancing up at me, Laken gives me a tiny wink before concentrating on the dog she’s trying to hold still. It’s squirming and baring its teeth at Laken.
“See how swollen his cheek is,” the woman frets as Laken takes the dog’s head gently in her hands. This causes his body to start flopping around to get lose.
Without even waiting for a request, I step into the room and hold the dog by the rear end so he stops squirming.
“That’s my assistant, Jake,” Laken says to the woman. I bob my head in greeting, but quickly turn my attention to the little bundle of pissed-off energy Laken and I are trying to control.
Laken carefully pushes at a swollen area on the upper jaw extending back to the joint. It’s obvious to the eye, but I’m guessing the poor dog’s owner couldn’t get close enough to poke and prod herself.
“It’s cancer, isn’t it?” the woman wails.
“Not sure,” Laken mutters. Even though the dog has its lips peeled back, eyes bugging all crazy like, she holds the top of his muzzle tightly before sticking out an index finger to run along his gum line on top.
She frowns, makes a tiny sound of “huh” low in her throat, and then digs a little deeper. When she pulls her finger back, I see it’s nothing more than a chunk of Milk Bone that had gotten stuck back there.
The dog immediately stops growling, and Laken and I both let him go.
“Miss Belton,” Laken chastises. “You can’t give Jitters large treats like this. If he can’t chew them properly, they’ll get stuck… or worse, he’ll choke on it.”
“But they were on sale at Wal-Mart,” the lady explains, and Laken nods in understanding.
“That’s fine. But you need to break them into smaller pieces.”
“So there’s no cancer?” Miss Belton asks again, her arms scooping Jitters up. The little dog shakes like a leaf, and I now understand its name.
“No cancer,” Laken says with a smile as she walks to the sink to wash her hands.
“Praise Jesus,” Miss Belton says as she looks up to the ceiling—but I think she was looking heavenward—and starts rummaging in her purse with her free hand. “How much do I owe you?”
“Nothing,” Laken says as she dries her hands. “It wasn’t that difficult to figure out.”
“But your time is worth something,” Miss Belton insists. “Besides, you’re the only one in this entire county who has the guts to stick their finger in Jitters’ mouth. Let me pay you something.”
“Biscuits,” Laken says, and my eyebrows shoot up at this odd request. “Half a dozen next time you make some. Have Leroy deliver them to me.”
“Deal,” Miss Belton says before she scoots out of the exam room yelling “toodles” over her shoulder.
“You just agreed to get paid in biscuits?” I ask in awe.
Laken shrugs and tosses the towel she’d been drying her hands with in the garbage. “Paying debts in trade is practically an artform in the South.”
“Really?” The concept is fascinating.
“Well, not all businesses operate that way. Like Chesty’s and Larkin’s bakery, Sweet Cakes… those are retail/cash trades. You have to have money there. But me, Lowe, and Trixie… we deal in services. We often trade.”
“But biscuits?” I press.
“For pulling out a milk bone? It was a good deal. That will be my breakfast for a week, and I suck at baking. Now, say I’d neutered Jitters… then I’d require cash, credit, or maybe a year’s supply of biscuits.”
“Amazing,” I say and step back as Laken pushes past me.
“How’s MG this morning?” she asks as I follow her out to the lobby. She rounds the desk and sits in the chair so she can access the computer.
“MG?” I ask, not following.
“Miss Goatikins,” she clarifies.
“Good nickname, and she’s eating fine,” I tell her as I sit my butt on the edge of the desk. “As long as I’m holding the bottle.”
“Got to admit,” Laken muses while her eyes scan whatever she has on the computer screen. “It’s pretty funny.”
“Yeah, not so much,” I say blandly. “That little goat has totally disrupted my life. Eustace came by and insisted I put MG in the pasture with the rest of the herd. Said it was time for her start acting like a real goat and not a baby.”
“Tough love, huh?”
“She scares me a little,” I admit. “Not gonna lie.”
“She’s a character, that’s for sure.”
I nod. “Eustace said normally some goats can learn to nurse by watching the others.”
“But there aren’t any other nursing kids,” Laken points out.
“I know, but she felt maybe just being around the entire herd would help her feel more… goat-like, I guess.”
Laken snickers, taps a few more keys on the keyboard, and then looks up at me. “I wonder why there was a pregnancy this late. Most are in the spring, and this was a mid-summer birth.”
“I actually know the answer to that,” I say as I puff my chest out a little, for the first time maybe even feel that owning a farm is going to be okay. “Turns out… the herd actually had a buck, but he had gotten out of the fence. We didn’t know it, but Carlos found him yesterday. I don’t think the prior foreman kept them apart and just let them breed whenever they wanted.”
“Lucky buck,” Laken murmurs, and I can’t help but laugh.
“Eustace is going to take him to her farm, and I can just use him to stud from there,” I tell her, again feeling accomplished by speaking all this goat lingo. “If I want to breed, that is.”
“Thinking of shutting that down?” Laken asks. This time, her hands fall away from the keyboard and she turns to give me her full attention.
“It’s not a big part of the farm. A handful of goats and Mr. Farrington enjoyed dabbling in some cheese making that he sold locally. I really don’t see the point.”
“Makes sense,” Laken says, and then she surprises me when she says, “Colt told me about his run-in with you day before yesterday.”
“He called it a run-in, huh?” I ask her caustically.
“Well, he didn’t say the exact words, but I know my brother can be a hot head. He’s pissed you’re applying for that grant.”
“Maybe he needs to learn that you don’t always get what you want in life,” I point out, for some reason feeling the need to defend Farrington Farm’s bid for the grant.
“Maybe,” she says softly. She doesn’t say anymore, and this leaves me completely in the dark as to how Laken feels about this. Her brother was indeed pissed at me, and I’m thinking this grant is a huge deal. But until I can talk to Darby about it, I can’t decide what to do.
Laken’s views are important to me, because if I’m going to be here for God knows how long, then I definitely want to keep her underneath me if she wants the same.
“What are you going to do?” Laken asks, leaning her elbows on the desk.
“About the grant?”
She shakes her head. “About MG. It takes eight weeks to wean a goat. Are you going to stay here that entire time?”
“I’m going to try my damndest to teach MG how to eat from someone else,” I tell her. “But until that time, I’m just going to have to work out of the farmhouse. I might have to do some trips to Chicago and New York, but I’ll make them same-day ones. Hopefully we can make it work.”
Laken appraises me for a moment. “You know, most people would have just had me euthanize MG. She’s not a pet but a working animal.”
“I’m not most people,” I tell her, appalled that would even be a consideration. Living in the city and given my travel, it’s impractical for me to have an animal. Doesn’t mean I don’t love them, though, and clearly Miss Goatikins has already snaked her way inside my heart.
“No, you aren’t most people,” Laken murmurs in agreement.
“Can I kiss you?” I ask in an abrupt change of subject.
For a moment, I can tell I’ve thrown her completely off, but then her lips curve into a slow, hot smile. She stands from the desk and leans over it toward me.
“Why, Mr. McDaniel… I thought you’d never ask,” she says, cranking her southern accent extra thick and charming.
This most definitely wasn’t what I came in for today, but I have to admit, this is way better than what I had planned out. While it’s true Laken and I have enjoyed a brief physical relationship, the fact I’m back for an extended period means this can continue.
I need to know if she wants to continue it, since she doesn’t seem the type who has been back here pining for me each time I left.
Laken curls a hand into the front of my polo shirt, grips it hard, and pulls me across the desk so my mouth meets hers right over the middle. Totally electrifying, it’s the type of kiss that, left unchecked, would lead us to locking the front door and taking this to the back room.
But I have some level-headed sense about me, and I pull away from her. She purrs in appreciation when I rub my nose against hers. As I look down at her, she opens her eyes slowly with a smile on her face.
“You are such a sweet kisser,” Laken says almost dreamily. “Not like sweet as candy, but sweet as in ‘the bomb’.”
Laughing, I slip my hand around the back of her head, pull her to me for one more hard kiss, and then release her again.
“So, I came to square up my bill with you,” I tell her all business like.
She blinks at me a moment and then mumbles, “Um… yeah. Let me pull up your account on the computer.”
“I thought we could work it out in trade,” I say, and her eyes snap up to mine.
“In trade?”
“Well, you just asked Miss Belton for biscuits for your veterinary services,” I say casually. “Maybe you’d like… oh, say… a fancy dinner and a night out on the town?”
“Are you asking me on a date or are you truly wanting to pay me that way?” Laken asks with a skeptical look.
I roll my eyes at her. “I didn’t take you for dense, Laken. But I’m asking you out. I totally intend to pay you real money for everything you’ve done.”
“When?” she asks.
“Whenever you send me the bill like you said you would,” I tell her.
Now she’s the one rolling her eyes at me. “No, doofus. When do you want to do dinner?”
“Tonight?”
“Pick me up at seven,” she says, reaching into the desk to pull out paper and pen. She scribbles something and hands it to me. “Here’s my address.”
“You’ll have to give me an idea of what’s good around here,” I say as I tuck the paper in my back pocket.
“Uh-uh,” Laken says with a shake of her head. “I want you to take me to Raleigh. To a really high-quality restaurant. You research it yourself and make the reservations. I want you to go all out.”
“You’re directing our date?” I ask with a smirk.
“I’m getting you started in the right direction.” Her smirk back to me is deeper.
“Will I get laid tonight?”
“If it’s a really excellent restaurant,” she says haughtily before turning away from me. “Now get out of here… I’ve got more work to do today.”
I stand up from the desk. “Send me your real bill, too,” I call after her.
She waves a hand over her shoulder as she disappears down the hall.
I whistle a jaunty tune as I leave her clinic, happy with the knowledge I’ll be spending the evening with Laken.