Her cheeks flush, and she chews on her lower lip. “Not in a while.”

“Well, you are. Can I keep you?”

She laughs, but I’m only half-kidding.

“I’ll leave you to eat.” She gets up from the bed, heading for the door.

I want to ask her to stay while I eat, but it seems weird to do so, so I say nothing and let her go.

She stops in the doorway. “Oh, I used your washing machine. I washed your T-shirt that I borrowed yesterday. It’s drying at the moment. My washing machine is, um…broken. But I didn’t want to return it dirty. I hope that’s okay.”

You could have kept it if you wore it every day.

There’s just something about seeing a woman in your clothes, and when I saw her wearing my T-shirt yesterday, my dick was so hard, it could have cut glass. If I didn’t have this stupid fucking boot on my leg, then I would have gone over to her and taken her like I wanted to. I’d have fucked her with my tongue and then my cock.

I clear my throat at the memory. “You didn’t have to wash it.”

“I like to return things I’ve borrowed as I found them.” She shrugs.

“Baaahhh!”

I pause mid bite. “What was that?”

“What?”

“That noise.”

“Baaahhh!”

“There it is again.” I sit forward, listening. “It sounds like a…sheep. You hear it?”

“It must be the TV in the living room. I was watching a nature program. Enjoy your breakfast.” She quickly closes my bedroom door, disappearing off.

I stare at the door. That was weird.

I shrug it off and get on with eating my breakfast. When I’m done, I get up, using my crutches, and take a piss. Pissing and balancing on crutches is not easy, as I’ve discovered.

Neither is trying to brush your teeth. Who knew having a broken foot would be such a pain in the ass?

I look at the shower with longing. I’m dying to get in it, but it just seems like too much hassle right now. I’ll have to get another bath soon. Have Speedy get me out again.

God, that was so much fun yesterday, watching her get all flustered. Not so much fun when her shirt got all wet. I could see her lacy bra through it, and my dick started getting hard.

I go back into my bedroom and grab a fresh pair of boxer shorts, a tank, and a pair of athletic shorts.

Getting dressed is a pain as well.

I’ve just gotten the athletic shorts on when my cell rings. I reach over and grab it off my nightstand.

Tate.

“Hey, asshole,” I say.

“Is that any way to greet your baby brother?” He chuckles.

“It’s the only way to greet you.”

“How are you doing?”

“Okay.”

“Has Ava been there, taking care of you?”

“Yeah. She’s here now.”

“She stayed over?”

“No, assface. She went home last night and came back early this morning.”

“Maybe you should ask her to stay over. Make things easier.”

I laugh. Having Speedy stay overnight in my house would make this far from easy. I know it would definitely make something very, very hard. Not that my dick isn’t often hard around her as it is.

“No, Tate, I’m not asking her to stay over. She’s doing enough for me as it is.”

“You could pay her, like a live-in, while you get better.”

“I’ve got a broken foot, not a broken back.”

But he’s right; I should pay her. It’s not right, having her give up her time for me when she should be using that time to find herself a new job.

I’ve just got to find a way to offer her money for caring for me without insulting her. Because I know for a fact that she’ll be insulted when I offer.

“Well, okay. I’m on shift all day till ten.”

“You work too many hours.”

“I’m a doctor. And a resident at that. Too many hours are part of the job description.”

“Just don’t kill yourself when you don’t need to.”

I’m always offering him money to set up his own private practice, but he won’t take it.

“I’m fine, Gabe. Look, I’ll swing by in the morning before work. I’m not on until lunchtime tomorrow. I’ll bring breakfast.”

“Sounds good.”

“See you then.”

I hang up and push my cell into the pocket of my shorts. Grabbing my crutches, I get up and go off to find Speedy.

As soon as I wrangle open my bedroom door, I hear that sound again.

“Baaahhh! Baaahhh!”

I head in the direction of the sound. It’s coming from the kitchen.

I walk in the kitchen, and it’s empty, but I see the utility room door is open. I can hear the quiet whispers of Speedy’s voice.

“Gucci, you have to be quiet.”

Gucci? Who the fuck is Gucci?

“I know, baby girl. I’m sorry. I don’t want you stuck in here all day, but I don’t have any other choice. I’ll figure something out though; don’t worry.”

I make my way through the kitchen as deftly as I can on crutches. I can see Speedy. She’s crouched down, her back to me, still talking away.

It doesn’t look like she’s on the phone.

“Baaahhh!”

“Gucci, please. He’ll hear you.”

“Is there a fucking sheep in my apartment?”

She nearly jumps out of her skin. Grabbing ahold of whatever is making that noise, she holds it to her chest, keeping her back to me.

“Speedy?”

“Baaahhh! Baaahhh!”

“Ava, turn the fuck around and show me what’s in your arms.”

She turns slowly, a look of guilt and apprehension on her face.

My eyes nearly bug out of my head. “Is that a fucking…goat?”

“A pygmy goat.”

“Why is there a fucking pygmy goat in my apartment?”

“Well, because she’s mine. I didn’t have anywhere to keep her today, and I needed to come back here to help you. And I know I shouldn’t have brought her here, but I didn’t have any other choice.”

“Why do you have a goat?”

“She’s called Gucci.”

“Okay.” I scratch my head. “I’ll rephrase. Why the fuck do you have a goat called Gucci?”

“Because I love Gucci clothes, and it fits her perfectly, don’t you think?”

“I don’t have a fucking clue!”

She frowns at me. “Don’t yell. You’ll scare her.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Wouldn’t want to scare the goat, now would we?”

“Baaahhh!”

Speedy covers the goat’s ears. “Stop it, Gabe. She doesn’t like loud noises.”

“Well, it doesn’t have any problem making them.”

“She’s a she, not an it. And she’s called Gucci.”

“You’re certifiable.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“I thought we’d already established that.”

“Baaahhh! Baaahhh!”

“Can’t you keep that thing quiet?” I frown.

She frowns back at me. “She’s not a thing, and you’ll hurt her feelings, saying that.”

“God forbid I hurt the goat’s feelings.”

She gives me a dirty look and walks over to her bag. She pulls out a bag of chopped up apples and proceeds to start feeding the goat.

I pull out one of the breakfast stools and rest my ass on it. “Where the hell did you get her from anyway?”

“A farm in Glendale.”

“And they just let you take her, knowing you lived in an apartment building?”

“Well, honestly, the guy didn’t seem that interested in where I lived. He was more interested in the money I was going to pay for her.”

“Asshole.”

“What?” she squeaks.

The goat jumps.

“Sorry, Gucci.” She puts the goat on the floor and continues intermittently handing apple slices to it.

“I meant, the guy who sold you the goat. Not you. Naive is more the word I’d use for you.”