Page 13 of Max Bannon

Max crossed his arms, still in his T-shirt and joggers, hair sticking up in every direction. “And you are…?”

“I’m Duke. Boris belongs to me. He sneaks out sometimes when my mom forgets to lock the barn.”

Tessa blinked. “He hashis ownbarn?”

“Well, it’s technically my grandpa’s, but Boris is the boss.”

Max glanced at me. “Why does that make perfect sense?”

I was about to ask Duke if Boris was house-trained when the goat walked into the house.

Boris strutted over like he was late for an appointment, walked straight over to the boy, and headbutted him gently in the knee.

Duke scratched his ears like this was the most normal thing in the world.

“You found him fast,” I said, impressed.

“Just followed the trail,” he said proudly. “And I asked Junior down at the store. He said some girl with wild hair and pink arms was trying to steal a goat.”

“I wasnottrying to steal him,” I said, scandalized.

“He’s not mad,” Duke said with a shrug. “Boris picks people sometimes. He likes you.”

I smiled. “He’s kind of a menace.”

“Yeah, but I like him.”

Max let out a long breath. “Do we get a reward for keeping him alive?”

Duke pulled a lint-covered lollipop out of his pajama pocket and handed it to Max. “Here.”

Max took it like it was a medal of honor. “Thanks, kid.”

“Come on, Boris,” Duke said, turning to go. Boris hesitated—then trotted after him, but not before pausing by me one last time. I scratched his ears and whispered, “Don’t chew anything flammable, okay?”

Boris licked my knee and followed Duke out the door like a good little weirdo.

Max closed the door behind them and turned to me, yawning. “Well. That was a morning.”

“Did we just host a goat sleepoverandget woken up by an eight-year-old cowboy?” I asked.

“Yes. Yes, we did,” He said.

I chuckled, turning around I headed for the stairs.

I grinned. “You still want to live on this mountain?”

“Yep, this is pure fun,” I said.

7

Max

I’d just finished making coffee when I heard her footsteps upstairs—barefoot, soft, dragging just a little. Tessa Swindle, goat whisperer, brain surgeon-turned-teacher, chaos magnet… and possibly the best thing to ever walk into my kitchen.

She came downstairs in a hoodie and pajama pants covered in cartoon brains—of course.

“You’re making coffee,” she said, voice still scratchy from sleep.

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