Page 9

Julie drove Caleb and me to the ranch after the open house, music playing through the speakers.

Caleb stayed quiet in the back seat, but I noticed him in the rearview mirror tapping his fingers along his dinosaur’s stomach, keeping in time with the rhythm.

I’ll have to try out different types of music to see if he has a similar reaction.

When we pull up to Briar’s place, I get out of the car and help Caleb out.

“Thanks for the ride, Julie.”

“Anytime. Enjoy the rest of your day,” she calls through the window. “Once you’re settled, I want you to join us for dinner at the ranch house. ”

“We’ll swing by later this week.” I want to give Caleb a few days to acclimate to school before adding anything else to our routine. “See you tomorrow.”

“You bet.” Julie waves at Caleb as she pulls down the road.

She’ll drive us to the school in the morning for Caleb’s official first day.

Heath will bring me back to the ranch on his way home from picking up supplies in town.

The truck he’s letting me borrow is still in the shop but should be ready soon.

It’ll be nice to have the freedom to come and go without relying on others to drive us around.

We’re halfway to the front porch when I hear a high-pitched bleating noise coming from behind the house. I didn’t think Briar kept any animals at the cottage, so I have no idea what it could be. When we hear the sound again, Caleb’s eyes dart between me and the backyard.

“I wonder what that is. Should we go check it out, buddy?” I ask.

Julie suggested that I explain things to Caleb before acting so he has a chance to react if it’s not something he wants to do.

Caleb fidgets with the hem of his shirt, his other hand clutching his stuffed animal.

It comes with us everywhere. Julie made a special cubby for it in her office today, and once she told Caleb that dinosaurs have to go to school too, he accepted the idea of leaving it with her for a few hours each day.

He hugs the dino against his chest, letting out a shaky breath before taking a few tentative steps toward the backyard. I follow his lead, inching along the side of the house, the noise getting louder.

We round the corner and find Briar crouched beside a baby goat, holding a bottle to its mouth as it kicks its legs and headbutts at the nipple.

“Really? All this drama for milk?” she scolds, shaking her head. “I’m just trying to feed you.”

The goat bleats again in protest, stomping its tiny hooves .

My pulse kicks up as I take in Briar—a white-and-pink floral shirt tucked into her tight blue jeans, paired with a white cowboy hat and worn boots.

She’s the type of beautiful that doesn’t ask for attention, but demands it.

She’s trouble wrapped in denim and sass, and I’d be smart to keep my distance.

I have enough going on without lusting after a woman I have no business ogling—especially with jealousy gnawing at me when my son looks at her like she strung up the stars just for him.

“Looks like he’s giving you a run for your money,” I note with a smirk.

Briar’s head snaps in my direction, her brows raised as if daring me to say more.

“You try wrangling this little guy. He’s as stubborn as a mule.” She adjusts her hold on the squirming goat.

When Briar spots Caleb next to me, her expression softens; a genuine smile spreading across her face.

“Thank goodness you’re here,” she exclaims. “Our friend here arrived an hour ago and still won’t take his bottle.” She tugs it away from the goat to stop him from knocking it out of her hand. “Would you mind helping me?” she asks Caleb.

His eyes widen as he looks between us, lingering on the baby goat. He shifts his weight, then lets out a soft exhale as if building up the courage to say yes.

Briar releases the goat from her hold, and it springs into action, racing around, its hooves pounding the dirt. The little ball of energy is a blur of black-and-white fur, weaving in and out of Briar’s legs like it’s an obstacle course.

It hadn’t paid Caleb or me any attention before now, but suddenly, its gaze locks on me.

Without warning, it stiffens, its legs rigid as it collapses to the ground with a dramatic flop that leaves us frozen in disbelief.

Panic flickers in my chest. What if something’s seriously wrong with the goat?

How am I supposed to explain that to Caleb after he witnessed the whole thing ?

I frown when Briar bursts out laughing, holding the bottle to her chest.

I’m about to argue that this isn’t funny when the goat twitches, lets out a snort, and springs to its feet like it didn’t just scare years off my life.

I roll my eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

The goat turns its head toward me, letting out a soft bleat before dropping to the ground again, toppling over like a tipped statue.

“Guess we have a fainting goat on our hands. Clearly, he’s not your biggest fan, Jensen,” Briar says, shooting me a teasing grin before leaning over to stroke its side.

I’m unsure whether to be offended or amused that the goat has pegged me as some kind of danger, thinking playing dead is its best defense.

When it pops back up again, I stay quiet, not wanting to scare Caleb any more than I’m sure he already is.

But instead of reacting with fear, he bursts into a fit of giggles, the sound growing louder when the goat trots over and bumps him in the leg.

It’s the first time I’ve heard him laugh, and it’s music to my ears.

The goat stretches its neck to investigate the dinosaur that Caleb holds loosely at his side, rubbing its nose against his pant leg.

“When were you going to tell me you were a goat whisperer?” Briar winks at him. “Maybe he’ll let you feed him. Want to try?”

Caleb’s head bobs up and down as he sets his dinosaur on the ground before going to sit beside her, cross-legged.

“Great.”

Briar guides his hands around the bottle. Together, they offer it to the goat, who nudges it curiously before finally latching onto the nipple and taking a few eager gulps. Briar slowly moves her hands away, letting Caleb feed it by himself .

She shakes her head in amazement. “Looks like you’ve got the magic touch, Caleb.”

He grins, his cheeks flushed with pride as he holds the bottle steady.

His unguarded reaction makes me second-guess my initial reluctance to accept Briar’s efforts to help him feel at home.

It still stings that he gravitates toward her, but I can’t deny she’s getting through to him in a way I haven’t yet.

“Pretty sure you didn’t have a goat yesterday,” I say to her. “Was he an impulse buy, and if so, is there a return policy?”

She chuckles. “I’m afraid not. My friend Birdie owns an animal sanctuary and found this little guy abandoned by the railroad tracks this afternoon.

” She stands up, brushing off her pants.

“She’s busy with a litter of kittens and a lamb that requires frequent feedings, so she asked me to foster him. ”

I grunt, folding my arms across my chest. “Does this friend often ask you to take in strays?”

“Only when she’s got her hands full.”

“Do you ever tell her no?”

“Not usually.” Briar shrugs. “I guess that means I’m a pushover, right? After all, I did agree to let you stay too, didn’t I?” She leans over to nudge me playfully.

“To be fair, I don’t chew on shoes or headbutt furniture.”

Briar bites her lip, trying—and failing—to hide her laugh. “Was that a joke? I thought stoicism came with a no-humor policy.”

“Even brooding types have layers.” I look away, hiding the smirk tugging at my lips. “Like onions. Or emotionally repressed ogres.”

The only movie Caleb has shown the slightest interest in is Shrek . It played on a loop for days, and all I got out of it was a head full of quotes and a kid who still wouldn’t say a word.

Briar narrows her eyes in mock suspicion. “Careful. That was dangerously close to a dad joke. Next thing you know, you’ll be wearing white sneakers and khaki shorts.”

I roll my eyes, pretending to be offended. “Hey, white sneakers are timeless.”

She laughs, shaking her head. “Just promise no cargo shorts, please.”

“Fine, but I can’t guarantee I won’t wear socks with sandals,” I tease.

The more I talk with Briar, the more I enjoy her company. She has a way of making even a mundane conversation interesting. Although part of it could be due to the fact that most of my adult conversations up until now have been centered around client meetings, stocks, and profit margins.

The goat has finished its bottle and is now resting its head on Caleb’s lap, nibbling on his shirt.

“Since our friend will be sticking around for a while, we should give him a name. What do you think, Caleb?” Briar asks.

He nods as he pets the goat’s head.

Briar flashes him a grin. “Great minds think alike.”

She’s unbothered by his silence and has found her own ways to connect with him.

Watching them interact makes me feel more like an outsider than a dad.

I’m doing my best to be patient, but it’s hard when Caleb doesn’t show me the same warmth and affection he’s shown Briar, or even Julie during their brief interactions today.

“What do you think of Reginald?” Briar suggests.

Caleb scrunches his nose, shaking his head.

“No stuffy names. Got it.” She taps her chin, her brow furrowed slightly. “How about something playful like Buster?”

He hesitates for a beat, mulling it over before shrugging.

Briar lets out a teasing sigh. “Not easily impressed, are you? How about Jensen? It’s got a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

Caleb glances at me, his lips lifting in amusement at her suggestion .

The goat, still settled in his lap, bumps his arm as soon as he stops petting it, clearly wanting more attention.

“The only catch is that it might faint whenever it hears its name. Or imagine calling for the goat, and your dad comes running instead,” Briar says.

Caleb giggles, his laughter bubbling up again at the absurdity.

I can’t be upset at Briar for teasing me when it comes with the bonus of hearing my son laugh twice in the span of a few minutes.

“Hmm… what about Ziggy?” Briar asks.

Caleb tips his head, considering the name before giving us a thumbs-up.

Briar lets out an exaggerated breath, wiping her brow with a flourish. “Phew! I was afraid you wouldn’t like that one. It’s my favorite too, but Jensen was a strong contender,” she says with a wink in my direction before leaning down to pat the goat. “Welcome home, Ziggy.”

One thing is certain—Julie was right. Between the way Caleb lights up around Briar, how naturally she connects with him, and the fact that we’re living under the same roof, she’d be the ideal person to be his nanny.

And frankly, the only person aside from Julie that I trust right now to leave him with, even for a few hours. Now I just have to hope she agrees.