Hart & Stocker by Max Ellendale

Author:Max Ellendale [Ellendale, Max]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2019-08-04T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Unlike the beginning of my puppy and kitten filled week, it ended with half a dozen visits in the field. A horse with a sprained ankle, a cow with a mild respiratory infection, and chickens losing their feathers. Birds were not my thing so we had to call in a specialist from the city to come in for them. In the busyness of the week, Dax and I spent only one additional night together.

By the time Friday came around, however, my clearer schedule matched hers. After hosing myself down from the cow dung that soiled all the way to my knees, a shower, and clean outfit, I headed to her place in hope of losing myself in the weekend the way we had during the last. On my way, I called Sage to let her know we were in for the fishing trip tomorrow.

I parked in my usual spot beside Dax's SUV, and the moment I made it through the fence, the fruit basket of goats greeted me. They chased my ankles, bleated, and hopped about. I laughed as I bent down to pet them, scooping up the youngest one for a snuggle.

"I can't remember who any of you are, except you little Apple head." I smooched his head then set him back down. All five goats adorned cute collars with bells on them.

In the early evening sun, my skin warmed as I walked into the setting rays, with the goats still following me, toward the space between the barn and the house. I started when a roar of an engine broke the quiet. The putt-putt sound after told me it was a motorcycle. My brow furrowed and I headed around the house toward the attached garage.

The door hung open and I found Dax beside a black-on-black tricked out Harley Davidson motorcycle. The sheen of the paint sparkling in the sun, and the silver rims and metal work, it appeared ethereal in its own right. Beside it, Dax crouched, her jeans pulling away from her shirt to reveal the corners of her vast tattoo that stretched around her hip and lower back. In a white T-shirt, her black bra evident in the bright light. She gripped a wrench, her hair hanging down and covering the side of her face, shielding me from view. The image of her, in a perfect dichotomy of sexy and strong, brought a lash of arousal to my core, and made my mouth water with want.

I snapped a picture of her, before the goats rushed in to announce my presence. They bounced around her knees, one hopping onto her shoulder. She didn't move or fuss with him, like she'd grown used to their mountain climbing. The small female, the only one with a pink collar, hopped onto her thigh.

"Is Willa here?" she asked them, as if they would answer. One of them bleated. "Go get her."

"They already did," I said, grinning at her as I approached. The garage smelled of old gasoline and oil, the way a garage should.

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