“Let’s go feed him now.” Both dogs trotted after Frankie to take the walk to Dominic’s private quarters, far from the girls in case someone who wasn’t ready to breed went into heat. Being the Italian stud he was, Dominic would have fought his way over to the pen for some good times with the does. She’d seen his temper a few times, and without a doe in heat, he was getting downright nasty lately.
As they passed the back side of the trailer, Ozzie stopped, and both his little stick-up ears turned, like radar dishes seeking a signal. A fine chill waltzed up Frankie’s spine as she stood still, listening for whatever had attracted Ozzie’s attention. A squirrel? A rabbit? A...man?
Maybe not Becker. Maybe that lawyer?
That’s why she was restless, she thought. Tomorrow she had to go to the County Clerk’s office—oh, that would be a fun five hours in a place not unlike her old office—and figure out if a legitimate will had ever been filed. They’d never even checked for that when she was last there because Nonno had told her...
She swallowed hard. Had he really told her? Or was she fooling herself? Because she knew damn well a will could have been filed. It could be legit. She hadn’t been with him for two years, both of them too stubborn to say they were sorry. And during those two years...
A slow, sickening heat turned in her belly as she watched Ozzie listen even more intently while Harriet rolled around on something delicious-smelling, her little paws in the air, her white teeth showing in a dog smile.
Ozzie finally gave up the audio hunt and continued to trot to Dominic’s shed. The old buck bellowed as soon as they reached his long, narrow pen, this one surrounded by much sturdier fencing than what the girls had. His shed was much smaller, too, more for shade than anything else. Dom needed far less attention than the female goats. All he required was food, water, and regular sex, which basically made him like every man on earth.
“Hey, big guy.” She reached over the thick railing to give Dom’s dark head a pat and stroke his horns. His golden eyes settled on her with no small amount of longing. Longing that, if not satisfied, could turn to downright fury.
“Gotta wait awhile for Agnes to be ready, okay? A week or two, best I can guess.” Of course, Nonno had left no records of any of the goats’ cycles or births. It was like he’d lost all interest after the hurricane, after Frankie had moved to DC.
She swallowed guilt and refocused on Dominic, who blinked once, his pink gums sliding into what she’d swear was a smile. She tunneled her fingers into his wiry fur and scratched, thinking of how happy Nonno had been when he had Dominic shipped over from Italy. When his plans for “La Dolce Vita” were in full swing, before they’d had their fight, before she’d been a complete and total idiot who needed to “find herself.”
She scooped up grain and feed, poured fresh water in the trough, and fluffed his hay. Finished, she whistled for the dogs and trudged across the field, eyeing the tiny one-bedroom trailer through the eyes of the cowboy who’d been here yesterday.
Why couldn’t she stop thinking about him? Okay, it had been awhile since she’d had anything that resembled a date. In fact, let’s be honest, the ladies in her pen got more action than she did and they had to share the same guy.
That was no excuse for her obsessing about him and wondering what he’d thought of the humble place where she currently lived. Without knowing why the trailer was there, he probably thought Nonno was dirt-poor and she was “trailer trash” who’d swoon over a multimillion-dollar offer for her land.
Man, he couldn’t be further off base. He so completely didn’t know what he was dealing with. He was—
Sitting on the first step of the trailer.
Ozzie exploded in an outburst of sharp, loud, frantic barks, launching toward the stranger.
“Whoa.” Elliott didn’t even stand, reaching out a hand, which Ozzie immediately sniffed. Harriet scampered around, trying to get a piece, so he reached his other hand to her, getting a total tongue bath for his trouble.
“Hey, pooches.” He looked up and grinned, like his sneaky, unexpected arrival was completely normal and welcome. “And goatherd. Not goatherder.”
Nothing was normal and welcome—especially the way her knees weakened and the rest of her tensed up at the sight of him. Well, of course, she was shocked. That had to be why her body went into this state. Nothing else.
“You scared the crap out of me.”
“You’re vulnerable out here.” He tipped his cowboy hat back so she could see his eyes glint with humor and then travel up and down her body with open male appreciation. “Not really safe for a woman as beautiful as you.”
“You going to play that card now, Becker?”
He took off the hat and set it next to him on the step, but Harriet launched onto it like the brim was dusted with bacon bits. “Which card?”
“Vulnerable? Beautiful? Heroic? Who knows with you?”
With an almost imperceptible flinch, he leaned forward to give Ozzie even more love, his fingers seeming to know exactly how to calm the high-energy dog.
“Of course, you have your vicious guard dogs to protect you.” Ozzie was practically rolled on his back now, with Becker’s big hand tunneling the dog’s fur for a rare and prized belly rub. Ozzie was toast, his tongue already hanging out, his stub of a tail vibrating with joy. Harriet jumped off the step with the hat locked between her teeth as she trotted around the end of the trailer.
“You may never see that hat again,” she warned.
He shrugged. “I’ve got plenty.”
“What are you doing here?” she demanded, fighting the urge to press a palm to her pounding heart, but not willing to let him know he had any effect on her at all.
“What can I say? I’m drawn to”—one more sweep with his eyes and, damn it, she felt heat rise—“this place.”
“I didn’t even hear you drive up.”
“My point exactly.” He finally gave up on Ozzie and leaned back on locked arms, a move that made his biceps...huge. Ozzie threw both front paws on Elliott’s lap, letting out a demanding bark for more attention. Which he got from those incredibly large and surprisingly tender hands.
Oh, Frankie, come on! They’re just hands.
“I have an offer for you,” he said, squinting up at her with an irrepressible grin.
She puffed out a breath, dropping her head back to let out a grunt of sheer exasperation. How could she make him believe she didn’t want the money?