“Hey, Michael.”
“I got a call about a motorcycle accident.”
Zeke pointed at his bike, then pointed to Sneezy, still in the woman’s arms. “No worries. The goat is fine.”
Michael chuckled. “Knox will love this.”
Knox was the city manager who generally thought the petting zoo was a damned nuisance. Especially with the escaping goats and now the herding dog. And the Goat Bingo. And…okay, all of it.
There was also increased traffic from the uptick in visitors to the town and all of the issues that went along with that including more accidents, traffic flow problems, complaints from the locals about the noise and crowds, overflowing trash and recycling bins. His list of complaints went on and on.
In fairness, a lot of the complaints were things he heard about from citizens. But Knox also liked to think ahead to all the things that might happen as well. Goats escaping and crossing one of the main roads and causing accidents was definitely on his list. Having it come true was not going to make his day.
“Maybe we don’t tell him. No harm, no foul.”
Michael squinted at Zeke in the dark. “No harm? Your bike looks beat up and I think you’re bleeding.”
Zeke touched his temple again. “I’m a Landry. It’ll take a lot more than a shot of pavement to the head to do any damage.”
“I’m going to take a look at it,” Michael said firmly.
“You want to shine a light in my eye and ask me to say the alphabet backwards?”
“Yeah, I kinda do. And I wouldn’t mind putting a butterfly suture on that thing.”
Zeke glanced at the woman who had caused all this trouble. Well, okay. The goat in her arms had caused trouble…okay, the goat across the street that was in love with Griffin that this goat had been following had caused the trouble…but she’d been the one to call 9-1-1, for fuck’s sake.
Zeke sighed. But now that Michael was here, he knew the paramedic wasn’t leaving without checking him out. “Fine.”
He followed Michael to the truck and let his friend shine a flashlight over his face and ask his questions. Finally, Michael cleaned him up and taped a couple of white strips across the gash on his forehead and told Zeke he was probably concussion-free but what signs to watch for over the next day or so. Then he determined that Zeke didn’t use his common sense much anyway so it didn’t really matter if he’d lost a few IQ points.
Michael was hilarious.
Zeke was surprised to find the woman still standing there holding the goat when they were finished.
“You want Michael to take a look at the goat, cher?”
She shook her head. “He’s fine. I’m just hanging onto him so he doesn’t go wandering out into the street again. You said whoever responded to the call would take him and his friends back to the barn.”
Zeke looked at Michael, who was watching at him with both eyebrows up.
“I did say that.”
“And why would you say that?”
“Animal control isn’t in your job description?” Zeke asked with a grin.
“You know damned well that when I’m on call almost everything falls into my job description,” Michael said.
It was true that small town job descriptions definitely overlapped and there were a lot of blurred lines, especially when it came to emergency services.
Michael was a firefighter and paramedic, but he showed up to help break up bar brawls and had definitely herded a few goats in his time. A couple of months ago, he’d helped search for two fishermen that had gone missing on the bayou. Last year he’d helped run some illegal arms dealers out of town with Zander. And he’d definitely wrangled a few gators. He’d even been in on trapping a couple black bears and relocating them when they decided they’d rather hang out in the city limits for an extended period.
“Would you like some help?” the woman asked.
Obviously she was comfortable handling the goat.
“Any time a beautiful woman wants to do something for me, I’m inclined to say yes,” Michael told her. He even tipped his hat to her. Like literally tipped his hat.
Zeke rolled his eyes.
He knew that the women of Autre found Michael LeClaire handsome and charming. Zeke had been hearing about it since they’d all hit puberty.
Michael was an Autre boy born and raised, and though he was a couple years older than Zeke and Zander, Zeke had spent plenty of time around Michael and his family. Their grandfathers were best friends, and their families knew each other well.
The black man stood six-two, had a quick, easy smile, and an even easier Louisiana drawl. He also peppered his speech with French, learned from his grandparents, that made women swoon. It was quite a sight to behold actually.
Zeke usually found it hilarious. Michael was no saint, that was for sure. None of the bayou boys were. But being a firefighter and paramedic added to the swoony heroic good-guy image that Michael had going and that women fell for. Every time. Even women who had known him his whole life. It was amazing and Zeke had to admit he was envious.
But right now, he wasn’t feeling exactly envious or entertained.
Michael flirting with this woman was annoying for some reason.
“It’s a little ways back to the barn,” Zeke said. “Can’t believe one of them tried to kill me and you want me to escort him back home and tuck him into bed.”
“He didn’t try to kill you,” the woman said. “He’s just a baby. He was going to meet his friends across the street, and suddenly you came barreling through and nearly ran him over. You didn’t even come to a full stop at the stop sign.”
Zeke stared at her. “You saw me come through the stop sign?”
“Maybe,” the woman said, tipping her head.
She hadn’t. She was messing with him. Right? Then again, she could have. She must’ve been right there to have come over to check on him—okay, the goat—so quickly. Had he stopped at the stop sign? He knew he’d rolled through the one coming off of Main Street. But he was pretty sure he’d stopped at this one. Then again, it was possible he hadn’t.
“So you’re saying the goat had the right-of-way?”
She lifted a slender shoulder. “He was crossing the street and you should have stopped.”
“Was he in the crosswalk?” Michael asked.
The woman looked at him, then looked at the street where there was actually the faint outline of crosswalk. She lifted her chin. “He was. Clearly the motorcycle driver was at fault here. How much would a ticket like that cost you?”
Zeke narrowed his eyes. “Are you saying that if I don’t help get these goats back safe and sound in their barn you’re going to turn me in and I might end up with a ticket?”
The woman shrugged. “I don’t make the rules.”
He actually huffed out a laugh. “Would it make a difference to you if I told you my brother is the cop in town?”
“Surely a lovely town like Autre, Louisiana, doesn’t believe in the cop doing favors for his family when they clearly break the law.”
Zeke liked her. That was ridiculous, of course. She was siding with the goat over the human being. He was actually hurt. Not enough that he actually needed Michael’s services. But he was going to be sore in the morning.