Page 31 of Sexy Bad Neighbor

“Come on, it’s funny.” I wiggle my eyebrows at her. “Admit it.”

“No. It’s not. Dogs are bad enough. Dirty and smelly, and always needing to be looked after. A goat has to be worse.”

“So now you have something against dogs. I guess if it doesn’t wear a suit, it doesn’t fit your lifestyle. You’re probably allergic to human kids, too.”

“I’m not. I happen to like kids. As long as they aren’t mine. I don’t have time to look after anyone or anything else.”

“Too busy shooting for the top of the corporate ladder?”

She huffs out a breath, and her shoulders fall. “Can we just concentrate on the goat? I can’t keep it. What am I supposed to do with it?”

“Give it to me.” I thrust out my hand and take the rope from her then scoop up the kid. “Well, Dog, it looks like you’re going to be living with me. At least until I can work out where you came from. Although it might be time I got myself a pet. Might have to see what we can do about keeping you around.”

“Dog?” Chloe follows me as I cross the yard to enter the house. “You’re going to keep it as a pet and call it Dog? It needs a real name.”

“Dog’s a great name for a goat.” I traipse through the house into the kitchen and set the goat on the floor. Its hooves tap on the tiles as it wanders around sniffing. I’m going to need a bucket out on the deck for water, and build a pen or some kind of shelter.

“Dog’s a ridiculous name.”

I glance at her standing in the middle of my kitchen. I’m not sure if it’s the fact she keeps arguing with me about the goat when it’s now none of her damn business or it’s purely because she followed me into my house without an invitation that ticks me off.

“So it’s all right for you to wander into my house whenever you feel like it, like we’re friends, but I come to you and I get told to stay the hell out of your life?”

She freezes.

Okay, that was probably a bit harsh. I close my eyes and breathe through my nose. Somehow she pushes my buttons, and I’m not talking about the ones that make me irritated and tense. It’s the fact that even after we both declared we desire to have nothing to do with the other, I can’t stop myself from wanting to wrap my arms around her and kiss her. Or just have that girl in my sweatshirt, curled up at my side while we converse about nothing and everything. She frustrates the fuck out of me with her hoity-toity attitude one minute and her one-eighty relaxed sensuality the next.

“Forget I said that. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

She smooths her hands down her jacket then tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. Her cheeks mottle. “No, you’re probably right. It’s your house. Your goat.” She snorts nervously and covers her mouth. “I should go.”

“No, wait.” I move in front of her, take one of her hands between mine. She doesn’t yank it away, which must be a good sign. Maybe James is right. She’s hung up on something, but she’s still here, standing in my kitchen. Do I want to let her keep running? “So what do you think we should call the damn goat?”

“I don’t know. It just shouldn’t be Dog or Goat. Maybe Spot. It has one on its back.”

The goat butts the back of my knee and bleats. I reach down to pet it. “Think she likes it?”

“I don’t know. How am I supposed to know what a goat likes?”

I don’t bother pointing out that goats are meant to be stubborn beasts, and certain parallels could be drawn. Instead I address the newly named Spot. “What do you think, little buddy? Are you going to come to Spot?”

It head butts my shin this time before rubbing its forelock against my leg. I scoop her up and carry her outside, down off the deck into my backyard where I tie the rope to a support beam. I don’t want her getting too close to the lake, so the rope will have to do until I get a chance to build her a run.

Chloe follows us outside, standing on the deck and overseeing the whole thing. “I shouldn’t be surprised that you’d take her in like she’s a pup, should I? You’re definitely not who I thought you’d be when I first met you.”

I jog up the stairs to join her. Now that she’s not peeved about Spot, her posture is more comfortable and her gaze roves my torso. I forgot about the shirt hanging out of my pocket, but I’m pleased it means she ogles me. Still, I give her space. Not too much, though. I get close without actually brushing up against her as I head back inside. “Do you drink beer, Chloe? We should toast to my new pet.”

“Just one,” she says. “Then I should leave you alone.”

I fish two bottles from my fridge and knock the tops off before handing her one. We stand facing each other on the deck as we each take a swig. A little of the amber liquid escapes her parted lips and drips down her chin. Before she can swipe it with the back of her hand, I catch it up with my thumb and suck on it. She might have a plan she doesn’t think I should be part of, but her quick intake of breath and the way her tits rise tells me part of her wishes it weren’t so.

“But you don’t want to let me alone, do you? That’s why you were so upset about Spot. You wanted me to come get you, to change your mind about letting me in. How long did you wait before you brought her over?”

“I didn’t,” she says, straightening her spine.

I’ve had just about as much of this as I can take. Dropping my hand to her waist, I slide it to the small of her back and bring her against me. “How long did you wait?”

Her body melts into mine, her voice feathery soft. “Too long.”

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