Page 48 of Own the Eights
She went to open her door. “Come on. Let’s see what’s going on.”
“Do we have to?” Jordan asked, cutting the ignition.
“Yes, we have to!” she said, channeling Hermione’s quasi-bossiness.
This was not the take charge, I’m-the-man-with-a-plan ten she was used to. Jordan looked nervous, which didn’t make any sense. Then, the man startled at the sound of horses happily whinnying as if he’d heard the deadly roar of a lion about to attack.
They crossed the gravel lot and walked up to the trio, catching Daniel mid-rant.
“Danielle and I can’t be here,” he huffed. “We’re allergic to horses.”
A woman in a flowing blouse and yoga pants nodded. “You won’t be interacting with the horses today. As you can see, they’re in the barn.”
Daniel shook his head. “Well, my sister’s not getting out of the car. We need an alternate challenge.”
“Sorry, dude,” a young man holding a camera said and shrugged his shoulders. “Hector and Bobby said there are no substitute challenges.”
“Didn’t you guys write a whole blog post about equine therapy?” Georgie asked, breaking into their conversation. She’d done a little internet reconnaissance on the Dannies last night, scrolling through their blog posts and trying to get a better feel for what she and Jordan were up against.
Daniel turned to her with a blank expression. “We…just found out about the allergy.”
The horn on the Escalade cut through their conversation, and the group turned to find Danielle banging the steering wheel like a prizefighter going to town.
Holy Miss Temper Tantrum!
“I’m sorry, but we can’t stay. We’ll post something of our own,” Daniel huffed then stormed off toward the black behemoth of a car.
No one said a word as the SUV peeled out and gunned it down the gravel road.
The man with the camera exchanged a glance with the woman in the flowing blouse. “Well, I guess it’s just you two. I’m Barry, a producer for CityBeat. Hector and Bobby sent me to take photos and capture some video for the website from your goat yoga session.”
“Goat what?” Jordan asked with a grave shake to his voice.
“Goat yoga,” the woman said serenely. “I run classes here at my farm animal sanctuary. I hope you don’t mind that it’ll be a private session.”
Georgie glanced up at Jordan, who’d gone completely white.
What the hell was wrong with him?
She smiled at the yoga teacher. “No, we don’t mind at all, and personally, I’ve wanted to try goat yoga for years,” she answered, ready to kick off her shoes and bust out a downward-facing dog while a frontward-facing goat chomped on the grass nearby.
The woman’s expression grew introspective. “Practicing yoga surrounded by baby goats is a profoundly joyful experience.”
“Baby goats?” Jordan rasped another shade paler.
“Could you give us a second?” she asked the yogi and the CityBeat guy.
Without waiting for them to reply, she grabbed Jordan’s perfect forearm and pulled him over by the cars.
“What’s going on with you? The Dannies just stormed off, giving us a chance to be featured on the CityBeat page. All we have to do is complete whatever they have for us here, and we should be able to catch up to them.”
He swallowed hard. “I can’t do it, Georgie.”
She lowered her voice. “What do you mean you can’t? You’re the one who said we had to crush it. So, let’s crush it. It’s not a big deal if you aren’t familiar with yoga. I’m sure the instructor will stick to basic moves, and you’re as strong as a freaking ox. You have nothing to worry about.”
A chorus of the cutest goat bleats echoed through the barn as a little herd of half a dozen baby goats followed the woman into a small gated area.
“Look at them, Jordan! This is perfect. We get to do yoga outside, harness our chi, and all while surrounded by baby goats!” she cooed.
