The fence and Fitz went down with a clank and an “oof,” respectively.
“Wow,” Ryan said, abandoning his description of his collection of sneakers.
“Uh-oh,” Sammy said, already shoving her hot chocolate into Ryan’s hand.
Pandemonium erupted. Both sheep bolted for the opening. The purple one didn’t exactly vault the prone Fitz. It was more like plowing over him. Fitz squeaked, and the sheep raced down the park’s path baa-ing. The chickens were next, scrambling and clucking frantically over their newfound freedom. The cow trotted forward, slowly gaining speed.
Carter vaulted the table and dove for the cow as she charged for the opening. Beckett made a grab for the closest chicken. John went after the regular-colored sheep that had stopped to nibble at Fitz’s socks.
The ponies in the riding ring eyed the chaos balefully until Fitz, trying to pull himself to standing, accidentally unlatched the gate.
“Hold onto the lead!” Sammy yelled to Jax, who was gaping at the chaos from inside the fence and not paying attention to the dappled gray pony he led or to little Becky Halgren in the saddle. A chicken flapped Beckett right in the face. The little rider gave a high-pitched laugh, startling the pony.
It bolted, with its sticky-fingered novice rider clinging to the saddle, still laughing.
Farmer and fatherly instincts must have alerted John to the potential disaster. He gave up helping Carter drive the cow back into the enclosure and pivoted just in time to pluck Becky from the back of the pony.
“I’ll get the purple sheep,” Sammy called.
“You will? Don’t you want to hear about my Air Jordans?” Ryan asked, but she was already running down the sidewalk. She spotted Eden and Layla sprawled on a park bench, watching the action with popcorn. “Need to borrow this,” Sammy said, snatching the bag of popcorn away from Layla.
“Hey!”
“Sheep on the lam,” she yelled over her shoulder. Ha. She was totally funny.
“Where do you need us?” Eden called after her, springing to her feet.
“Cut between the incense stand and the latkes truck. Try to head it off. I’ll come up on the flank, and we’ll herd it back to the Pierces.”
They split up, and Sammy slipped around the side of Velma Flinthorn’s free-range chicken egg stand. The sheep appeared to be enjoying its freedom and was romping in an enthusiastic zig-zag through the grass and snow. Eden and Layla jumped into its path, startling the sheep. It made a 180-degree turn and loped away from them, heading in Sammy’s direction.
Thinking fast, Sammy stepped out and sprinkled popcorn on the ground in front of her. “Come on, sheep. Come have a snack.” She shook the bag. “Who wants popcorn?”
Thankfully, the purple sheep was feeling peckish. He trotted over and gobbled up the first few kernels.
“Good boy or girl,” she said, unsure of the gender.
“Definitely a boy from this end,” Eden said, eyeing the sheep’s back end.
“Just follow me and the popcorn,” Sammy instructed, sprinkling more kernels onto the ground.
“What do we do now?” Layla asked.
“Walk behind it with your arms out in case he turns around and tries to run,” she told them, shaking the bag and walked backward. “And tell me if I’m going to run into something.
“Watch out for the chicken,” Eden called.
“The what?”
Sammy blinked when the next piece of popcorn was gobbled up by a red hen that elbowed her way into the snack train.
“Is that a Pierce Acres chicken or someone else’s free-range fowl?” Layla wondered.
It took patience and every kernel of popcorn in the bag, but they made it back to the petting zoo with the sheep and the chicken. A grinning Beckett opened the gate, and Sammy dumped the remainder of the popcorn on the ground.
Once everyone was officially corralled, the usually stoic John gave Sammy a hard, one-armed hug. His wife, Phoebe, who had missed the action while sampling mulled wines with her friend Elvira Eustace, gave her a noisy kiss on the forehead.
“What would Blue Moon do without you, Sammy?” Phoebe asked.
Sammy felt her cheeks flush at the praise.
“Nice going, kiddo,” Carter said, ruffling her hair and making her feel even more breathless.
“It was a team effort,” she said modestly to her shoes. The chaos had been quelled, the animals corralled. And the pigtailed Becky Halgren was getting a second, free ride to make up for the first near disaster.
“Thank you, girls, for your heroics. Last time this sheep got out, he wandered halfway to Cleary. Who knew David Bowie was such a huge fan of popcorn?” Phoebe mused.
“Uh. He is?” Sammy asked.
“She named the sheep David Bowie,” John explained, giving the animal a slap on the rump. “You’ve got a hell of a way with animals, Sammy.”
The praise made her feel warm inside.
“You also seem to have a fan,” Phoebe observed, nodding across the park path. There stood cute Ryan still holding two cups of hot chocolate, his hair still in his eye.
“Kid needs a haircut,” John grumbled. Phoebe elbowed him in the gut.
Eden gave Sammy a push in Ryan’s direction. “Go make out with his face.”
Sammy gave the Pierces and her friends a parting glance before crossing to Ryan.
“I saved this for you,” he said, holding up her hot chocolate.
“Thanks,” she said, attempting to wipe the snow and mud off her mittens. She was making more of a mess, so she gave up and stuffed them into her pockets. She accepted the cup and, following Eden’s shooing motions, towed Ryan away from the crowd.
“Are you cold?” he asked.
She shook her head. The sheep chase had actually left her a little sweaty. “I’m fine,” she said.
“Here.” He unwound his scarf and looped it around her neck.
It was so soft and smelled like cologne. She didn’t know what kind of material it was, but it felt expensive. She hoped her sweat wouldn’t ruin it. “Uh. Thanks.”
“You were pretty cool handling those animals,” he told her as they strolled toward the end of the park, leaving the crowd, the smells of lasagna and patchouli incense behind them.
“Thanks. My mom’s a veterinarian,” she explained.
“Cool. My parents own a property management company. They want me to follow in their footsteps and join the family business. But I don’t know.”
Sammy felt a spark of commonality. “I know the feeling,” she said. “Are all parents like that? I mean, is there a rule that says if your kids go to the same college you did or into your profession that means you made the right choices?”
“Whoa, blue eyes. That’s deep,” he teased.
A trickle of sweat worked its way down the back of her neck, and she hoped it wasn’t burning a hole through the scarf. “Uh. So, do you want to go into property management?” she asked, steering the conversation away from any potentially off-putting philosophical questions.
Ryan seemed to be more comfortable when the conversation centered around him. And she felt more comfortable when other people were comfortable.
He shrugged. “It’s okay. But if I do decide to do what they want, I can still do it on my terms, right?”