Cocky Bastard

“Snowflake?”

“No.”

“It’s from the children’s book…”

“Heidi. Yes. I know.”

“You do?”

“What? You just assume I’m uneducated because I don’t walk around with a stick up my ass like your Harrison?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Oh yeah? So what made you assume I wouldn’t know a classic literature story?”

“I don’t know. You just don’t seem like the type.”

“Well maybe you should stop typecasting people. Not everyone fits into neat little compartments you know.”

We were both silent for a while, with only the woman’s voice from my GPS interrupting occasionally to direct us to turn.

“Mutton.”

“Excuse me?”

“For the goat. A name.”

“We are not naming him mutton! That’s sadistic.” We’d been arguing over names for the last hour or so. I favored names from Greek mythology or classic literature, whereas Chance wanted to name him one of the many dinners the poor baby could be turned into.

We arrived at the animal hospital, pulling up to an open spot right in front of the door. I made Chance carry the little guy, even though the door was only about ten feet away. Holding Esmerelda Snowflake, he looked…hot.

Was I that demented? Because I actually thought he was even sexier carrying a goat.

Inside, the women at the front desk confirmed it wasn’t just me. Their eyes feasted on the bulge of his biceps as he carried our injured passenger to the front desk. He was quite the sight. I started to smile. Until he spoke.

“My friend slammed her BMW into this little guy while she was trying to get a grip on her vibrator.” He smirked at me and winked at the receptionist. She blushed. I wanted to punch him.

“I’d like to get him checked out. I didn’t think I hit him, but he just seems…off.”

Chance snickered and mumbled under his breath, “He’s not the only one.”

Fifteen minutes later, we finally saw a doctor. He checked out the goat as if it were an everyday occurrence. One hand held him down on the examining table, the other pressed on his belly, checked his eyes, and wiggled all four legs. It seemed like a thorough physical to me.

“Everything seems to check out just fine. He has the usual congenital myotonic symptoms, and he probably suffered from a thiamin deficiency at some point. But those conditions don’t come from a car accident. In fact, I don’t see any signs that this little guy was even hit. It was probably just the fainting.”

“The fainting?”

The doctor chuckled. “This here is what is commonly known as a fainting goat. It’s a genetic disorder. Popular around these parts. Some farmers even show them. They faint when they get nervous. All the muscles in their bodies freeze up, and they basically just tip over. Only lasts about ten seconds. Doesn’t cause any pain, but it’s unusual to see for the first time.”

“But…he’s confused, too. When he got up, he walked straight into my car. And kept banging into things during the drive here.”

“Well, that’s likely because he’s blind, too.”

“Blind?”

“Thiamin deficiency, I’d guess. Unfortunately, it’s becoming a more common problem. Improper feeding, particularly too much grain and too little roughage. Greedy farmer trying to fatten up the animal quickly. One of the side effects of the deficiency is blindness.”

“Let me get this straight,” Chance said with a skeptical tone. “We didn’t hit the goat, but he faints when he’s scared and he’s blind.”

“That’s right.”

Chance erupted in laughter. It was the second time I’d seen him lose it in the last twenty-four hours. His chest heaved, and a deep throaty sound echoed through the room. I couldn’t help it. It got to me. Next thing I knew, I was hysterically laughing. too. We laughed so hard, tears streamed down our faces.

“What are we supposed to do with him?” Chance chuckled as he spoke to the doctor.

“Whatever you want, I suppose.”

“Where do we bring him?”

“Bring him?”

“Is there, like, a shelter for animals we can bring him to?”

“For goats? Not that I’m aware of. Although there are quite a few farmers around. You can probably get one of them to take him in as part of their herd.”

“The same type of farmer that tried to fatten him up to make a quick buck and blinded the poor thing?” I asked.

“Well, there are good farmers out there and bad. Just like anything else.”

“And how do we tell the good from the bad?”

The doctor shrugged. “You don’t.”

We’d been in the car almost ten hours already. Chance was driving, and our new passenger was sound asleep in the back seat, actually snoring. I didn’t even know goats snored. “We should stop soon. It might take us a while to find a hotel that allows pets.”

Chance’s eyebrows shot up. “Pets? You think we’re going to find a hotel in the middle of nowhere that accepts goats?”

“What choice do we have?”

“He’s staying in the car tonight, Aubrey.”

“He most certainly is not.” I folded my arms over my chest. “He cannot stay locked in a car overnight.”

“Why not?”

“Because…” I was angry he was ready to leave the goat in the car without so much as a blink of an eye. “Because what if he gets scared?”

“Then he’ll faint.” Chance chuckled.

“That’s not funny.”

“Sure it is. Come on, Aubrey. Lighten up. Your being uptight is what got us into this mess in the first place.”

I had no idea where it came from; the confession just blurted itself from my lips, “I pleasure myself. Okay? Does that make you happy to hear?”

Chance grinned. “As a matter of fact, it does.” He shrugged. “I pleasure myself too, Aubrey. In fact, the next time I rub one out, I’m going to picture you.”

He did not just say that? I was appalled. But also sort of turned on. I opened my mouth to say something back to him, then closed it. Then opened it.

Chance glanced over at me and then back to the road. “Well, well, well. Aubrey, babe. Whatta ya know. You fancy me pleasuring myself to your pretty face.”

“I do not.”

“You do, too.”

“I do not.” I totally do.

Surprisingly, Chance let it drop. He pulled off to the side of the road into a parking lot of what looked like a nicer version of Wal-Mart. It was an oversized warehouse of a store, only the front had a stone façade. Cabela’s The World’s Foremost Outfitters.

“What are we stopping for?”

“Supplies.” He parked the car. “I’ll be out in ten minutes. You can stay with Billy the Kid so no one steals him.”

I was outside the car stretching when Chance returned, both of his arms filled with bags. I bent at the waist, finishing a rotation of stretches and leaned to my right to greet him.

“What is all that?”

He didn’t respond for a minute. I bobbed up and down slightly, leaning into my bend and then looked up at his face to find what had made him quiet. He was looking right down my shirt. It wasn’t his fault; I was basically putting it on display right before his eyes. My shirt gaped in the front giving him an eyeful of my cleavage. I stopped bouncing. Eventually, his eyes lifted and found mine watching him. Our eyes locked. I knew that look. I’d seen it before. In the mirror after I’d gotten a look at his ass.