Chapter Twenty-Five

Two days later, the whole glass shop exchange was still on Zandra’s brain. She swatted the thoughts away every time they came up, but still…

She sighed, pulled on the straps to her backpack, and followed Blake along the dirt path toward the stables that housed the French farm’s most prized agricultural possession: goats.

Goats weren’t exactly her idea of fun, but then again, Flights and Sights had been re-posting her behind-the-scenes stories and had even put up their own Instagram story asking their followers to suggest something they’d wanted to see from Zandra. The overwhelming majority wanted goats. So instead of chilling and going through her photos today, they hit the road again.

Zandra put one foot in front of the other on the old dirt path. As long as she kept moving, she was fine, but after nearly twelve days of hauling stuff around like a packhorse, she was so over it. By a lot. But she’d also done some of her best work on this trip, so it was time to suck it up.

Besides, she was flying home tomorrow night and would be back in Seattle before long. If she was lucky, she’d be on to her next assignment in just a few weeks. Wasn’t this what she wanted?

Oh, joy.

The knowledge should’ve brought her just that—joy. But there was a trace of something sharp, too, like a lance that’d been stuck into a corner of her heart, and she wasn’t quite sure what to do about it.

“According to the guide, the stable’s just around the corner, now. You sure you’re okay to carry your pack?”

Blake’s voice startled her out of her thoughts and another flash of awareness tripped through her when their gazes locked. How could she have known him through high school and most of her adult life yet not really seen him? Worse, how could she keep reacting to him like she was still in high school?

“I can take that for you if you like,” he added. “You’ve got to be beat.”

“Considering I’ve had little sleep in the past few nights? Yeah, I am a bit tired.”

“Tired, huh?” A corner of his mouth lifted even as he took the backpack from her and threw it over one shoulder. How he managed to haul that on top of his own was beyond her. “And whose fault is that?”

Zandra’s face bloomed all sorts of hot. “That’s not fair. You snore.”

“And that’s what prompts you to wake me up in the middle of the night by straddling me?” he teased.

She fought her grin then gave up. “You got me there.”

Blake stopped and faced her fully, his head tilted at an angle that made her want to lick that spot. “You know something?”

“Hmmm?” Really, if she did cave, how could he fault her, standing there and tempting her like that?

“You’re beautiful.”

Her breath caught. How could words so simple be so complicated and so amazingly delicious at the same time? “Thank you.”

He reached a hand out and traced the curve of her face, the touch gentle, yet powerful enough to awaken a deep longing inside her. “Care to share what’s on your mind, Zandra?”

“I’d rather show you.” Her voice was breathless, flirty. Who knew a guy could bring it out in her? “When we’re done with this and back in our hotel room, that is.”

The corners of his mouth tipped up in a smile. “Let’s find our contact, then, and get this photo shoot going.”

Yeah, there was something about Blake that Zandra couldn’t quite get out of her brain. He’d managed to invade her thoughts, not that it was hard, especially since they’d spent nearly every waking moment together since she’d landed in Frankfurt.

Frankfurt. Where it all started and where she’d leave from. Tomorrow.

Tomorrow. The day when this amazing trip ended, and Zandra 2.0 would be fully launched into the world.

Alone.

When she’d made reservations, she’d managed to snag the last seat, which meant she had to leave Blake behind. It hadn’t mattered when she’d thought she’d be here with Jackson, but now…

The ache intensified, which was silly, really. It was probably better this way. Besides, she’d known from the beginning that there couldn’t be anything between them, had told herself so, and had reminded herself often enough in the past few days. She stuffed the ache back and concentrated on setting up.

Fifteen minutes later, Zandra looked around the barn and the dozens of white, bleating goats, some bearded, some with horns, some with neither. This should be interesting.

The lighting was adequate, and the subjects were clean—at least, they looked clean, even if they didn’t quite smell that way. Trouble was, the only subject who interested her at the moment was the guy beside her, dressed in a pair of jeans and a gray T-shirt that stretched over broad shoulders and teased her with each move he made.

He turned and caught her gaze then winked as if he’d read her thoughts. Damn, the guy was hot.

“Come.” Jean-Paul, their guide, motioned her outside with all the excitement of a six-year-old on his birthday. “We let the goats go now.”

He pointed toward one end of the enclosed pen. “They decide where they wish to roam.”

“You let them loose,” she observed, one hand shading her eyes as she studied the fence.

He shrugged. “In many ways, they are like some humans—one cannot always tell them where to go.” He grinned and indicated the farmland surrounding them. “If they choose, they may leave.”

“Do they leave?”

“The males, sometimes. But they often return when they are ready to settle down, start a family.” He rested his foot on the edge of the fence. “It depends.”

Zandra raised an eyebrow. “Start a family? You’re kidding, right?”

“Yes.” His lined face stretched into an easy grin. “But there is one that is different.” He pointed around the corner of the barn. “We separate the boys from the girls so that the milk is not contaminated, but there is one who breaks out of his pen all the time and will find his way to this one.”

“Sounds like a guy,” she said drily, raising the camera and checking the aperture settings. “Going to where the girls are.”

“Oh, no. Not just any female, but one particular one. A doe we’d brought in last year. Lisette. From the beginning, he pays close attention to her and complains when we separate them.”

She chuckled. “Sounds like boundary issues.”

“Or more like love,” Blake said.

Zandra lowered the camera and turned until she caught his neutral gaze. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”

“Of course not,” he scoffed. “I figured that’s how most girls would see it.”

Maybe, but there was a flash of something in his eyes, something she couldn’t quite name. She could get lost in his eyes…

“Ummm…” Zandra separated her camera from the tripod. “Here, hold this, would you?”

He took it, his gaze not leaving hers, and she had the oddest sensation, like he was asking a question that she didn’t know the answer to. She eased in a deep breath and turned, breaking the connection, breaking the bond that she probably only imagined anyway.

She had to put her head back in the game, stay focused on taking the best damned photos, photos that told a story. Even photos of goats.

“There’s Billy now.”

Zandra followed the direction of Jean-Paul’s gaze where, sure enough, a goat trotted their direction. “Billy? You named the goat Billy?” She stared at Jean-Paul.

“Not me.” The older man shook his head. “A little American girl who came to visit last year. She called him Billy, so we did, too.”

“Billy goat,” Blake snort-coughed. “Seems fitting.”

“And here I thought you were making it up,” she said, raising the camera toward the trotting goat then adjusting the camera’s settings to accommodate the bright morning light.

Jean-Paul reached for his pocket as strains of a guitar playing filled the air. “Excuse me,” he said. “My wife.”

“Go ahead.” Zandra waved him off. “We’ll be fine.”

“Can’t keep the goats apart,” Blake said as the older man walked away, phone plastered to his ear. “Seems far-fetched to me.”

“Then how do you explain Billy’s presence?”

“Could be he’s here for the chow.”

The goat bleated a high-pitched, almost mournful sound as it approached the fence line, causing one of the goats that was feeding to stop and turn, its ears twitching as if listening for the call.

“Oh, yeah?” She nudged Blake. “Look at that. No one else is paying attention. Just her.”

“I take it that’s the object of his affection?” Blake asked. “She doesn’t look any different from the others.”

“Maybe not to you.” Zandra walked along the fence line, toward the gate that led into the pen. Without her long-range lens, she needed to get closer to capture this story. And what a story it would be: love in all its glory prompts even a goat to defy all odds and find his way back to the one that’s captured his heart.

It was sappy enough to work.

“Hey,” Blake called. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“To get a closer shot.” She worked the latch on the gate, eyeing the two goats to ensure Lisette didn’t plan a break of her own. “You know I don’t have a long-range lens with me, and this is too adorable not to capture right.”

He leaned against the fence and shook his head. “You’re right about that. Go ahead.”

“I wasn’t asking permission, Blake.”

When she lifted the latch, a hand came down firmly on hers. “Hey,” he said. “I’m just trying to be supportive. That’s all.”

Her pulse quickened as she read the sincerity in his eyes. This was a guy who’d stood by her the entire trip, helping to set up shots, getting her to the train station and on the right train. Hell, he even made her meals. In another time, another place, he’d be perfect.

The thought was intriguing and frightening at the same time.

She swallowed. “Thanks. I promise I’ll be careful.” The gate squeaked when she pushed it open.

“I’ll be right here,” he said.

She nodded and slowly walked toward the pair who nuzzled each other through a gap in the fence. Zandra kept her steps even, slow. Startling them could mean losing the perfect shot.

They looked so adorable together, like they truly belonged with each other and wouldn’t let anything stand between them. Not even humans who thought they knew what was best for the pair.

Zandra could get behind that idea.

Looking through the camera lens, she snapped a couple of test shots, made adjustments to frame the goats, and crouched as she snapped frame after frame after frame. She moved as they did, finding angles that would best capture them—noses touching, mouths slightly open as they bleated. She crouched closer, still snapping away, her heart feeling for the two, and the cute rumbling noises they made as Lisette turned her face toward Zandra.

“That’s it, girl,” she murmured. “Good shot. Just like that. Keep facing me.” A few more like this, maybe from the other side should—

“Zandra!”

The call registered a split second too late. Without warning, Lisette faced her head on, bared her teeth, made a running start, and attacked Zandra with all the force of a jealous female.