Page 40 of Stirring Up Love
“I wish you would.” Riled Simone was his favorite Simone.
She huffed out a tiny snort of indignation, and he bit his lip. Definitely his favorite.
“Anyway, I was thinking about sourcing my goat cheese from him.”
“You serve dishes with goat cheese at Honey and Hickory? I don’t remember seeing any on the menu.”
“So youwerestalking me.”
Oops. “Reading menus online isn’t stalking. It’s a hobby of mine. Professional research. I am a chef, after all,” he said, and he realized she might not have known that about him. Realized how little they knew about each other at all, outside their mutual hatred and his one-sided attraction.
“Hmph.” She made that sound again, deeper this time, and he squirmed in his seat. “Well, you’re right, we don’t have anything with goat cheese on the menu. Not yet, at least.”
Would she accuse him of corporate espionage if he asked what she had planned for the menu? Not worth the risk when she was already on the fence about the deal. But his interest was piqued. Goat cheese at a barbecue joint ... fritters, maybe? Spread on a toasted bun to complement a pulled-pork sandwich?
“Anyway,” Simone said, her voice cutting into his culinary musings, “I drove out to his place to check out the cheese, and he offered me a tour of his farm.”
Tour of his farm?Sounded highly suspect. “Is this Tim guy single?”
“Again, is this relevant?”
Finn smirked. This time he hadn’t even meant to derail her. “Just wondering if ‘tour his farm’ is a euphemism.”
“Jeez, Finneas.” She shook her head, looking disgusted. “It was not. He’s old enough to be my dad!”
Finn sucked through his teeth. “When has that stopped a man?”
“Ew. Just, no. Well, yes,” she said. “Sickeningly, you’re right. But in this case a nice gentleman just wanted to show me his goats, okay?”
Finn couldn’t hold back his laugh. “Whatever you say. So is that why you don’t like goats? A lech showed you around his”—he choked the words out between chuckles, making air quotes with his free hand—“‘goat farm’?”
“Oh my gosh, no! Cut it out, Finley.” Now she was laughing too. “Tim is so not a lech. He’s a cool guy. Other than his error in judgment in letting you take over his booth. Buthewasn’t the problem. It was his goats.”
That sounded ominous. “Now I feel like I don’t want to hear the end to this story,” Finn said between laughs.
“A GOAT HAD A BABY ON MY SHOES.” Her words drowned out the speakers, and frankly, thank God. No more off-pitch yodeling. But also, her statement stilled his laugher.
“I have some questions.” He shot a glance her way to find her eyes bright, cheeks flushed under her freckles. He held up a finger. “One, was it premeditated?”
She hiccupped, fingers pressed to her lips. “On the goat’s behalf, or Tim’s?”
He lifted a shoulder. “Either. Both.”
“I don’tthinkso?” This debate was ridiculous, but he was having more fun than he’d had in a long time. “I mean, the goats were all running around in the pen,” she said. “We were out there among them. It’s not like he singled out that particular goat.”
Finn rubbed at his jaw. “Hmm. But they were his goats. He had to know on some level, right?”
“Maybe, but how long is a goat’s gestation?” Simone tucked her leg up under herself, turning to face him, animated. He didn’t look at her bare legs; he wouldn’t. Would not. “I’m sure it’s not an exact science. I mean for horses—”
“Oh no.” He rubbed his brow, pressing his lips together against an errant smile. “Now we’re bringing more livestock into this?”
“Horses are not livestock.”
He switched lanes, then put on the cruise control, only for convenience’s sake. It had nothing to do with leaving him more free to focus on Simone. “Pretty sure horses are the definition of livestock. What else would they be? Pets?” Hang on. He was beginning to sense a pattern. “Okay, wait. Country music. Horse lover. Am I in the presence of a bona fide cowgirl?”
“Boy, please.” She flashed a wide grin. “The proper term is equestrian.”
“I’ll take your word for it, cowgirl.”
