Flipping Love You by Erin Nicholas

1

One month later…

Zeke Landry pulled into Autre, barely pausing his motorcycle at the stop sign before he turned onto Bayou Road, the street that would lead past Boys of the Bayou Swamp Boat Tours and his grandmother’s bar, and would eventually dead-end at his house about a mile from the bayou.

The first stretch of the road in the main part of town was paved, however, and even had a couple stop signs. It ran past the grocery store, the fish market, the city park, and the convenience store and gas station that marked the beginning of the dirt portion of the road.

That was the segment they should’ve called Landry Road. Not only was the family’s swamp boat tour company there, and of course Ellie’s bar, but Zeke’s own construction company office also sat along that road beside his uncle’s auto shop. On past those businesses were several Landry family homes.

The Landry family had been in Autre for generations, and if you lived in Autre and weren’t related to one of them, the chances were you owed a Landry money, an apology, or a black eye.

Hell, even if you were related to them, you probably owed a Landry one of those three things.

Zeke waved as he passed his cousin Mitch in his truck, but he didn’t slow his bike. He was not in the mood for conversation. Which was, in itself, rare. Like most Landrys, Zeke loved to talk. But tonight, he was distracted. And, even more unusual, frustrated.

Zeke was not, by any stretch, the most patient or levelheaded of the Landrys, but he was pretty fun-loving and easy-going most of the time. Unless it came to one of his projects not going according to plan.

His work was straightforward. He built stuff. He tore stuff down. He rebuilt stuff.

Simple.

Or it should have been.

Someone wanted a building put up? Zeke put up a building. Four walls, a floor, and a roof.

None of this needed to be difficult. That was what he liked about it.

But every once in a while, something went off the rails. Weather blew in and screwed up a timeline. Supplies got backordered. There was a bigger problem with an old foundation than expected when they got down to it. One of his guys showed up drunk.

But he dealt with it. He got things back on track.

Like he needed to do with this new job he’d just gotten.

His cousins were expanding their petting zoo into an animal park. Which was super fucking cool.

And good for business. Zeke and Mitch had been the ones in charge of designing and building all of the animal enclosures. It had been a hell of a lot of fun. Mitch was super easy to work with and they had plenty of extra hands whenever they needed them. They’d been putting up the new animal enclosures in crazy short time frames.

And now they had penguins coming to town.

Fucking penguins. It wasn’t every day a guy got to build a habitat for penguins. These weren’t cold-weather penguins, so he hadn’t had to figure out a way to install any kind of refrigeration system—much to his disappointment—but still, there were going to be penguins in Autre, Louisiana.

The thing was, the penguins came with their very own veterinarian. Technically, she was their owner too. But Dr. J. Morris—he didn’t know her first name, he’d just been referring to her as Dr. Morris in his emails—was totally in charge. All the money being spent, all the decisions being made, were hers. And that had been great. She was detail oriented and completely on top of everything when it came to the birds. Every time he had a question, she got right back to him.

But, in addition to building the penguin enclosure, he was also remodeling a house for her.

And she wouldn’t answer one damned question about that.

He was convinced at this point that she didn’t know he was the same guy building her penguin habitat. He’d used the petting zoo email to communicate with her on that project and they’d quickly moved to texting. It was the Landry Construction emails she was ignoring.

And she was supposed to be here in three days.

Zeke consciously unclenched his jaw as he drove past the grocery store. It was not his problem if she got to town and had no place to live.

Except that he really hated not being able to get a job done and get it done well.

Suddenly a dark shape darted out in front of him.

Swearing, Zeke jerked the wheel to the right. The front tire of his bike hit gravel and he felt the bike shift and start to slide underneath him.

Fuck. This was just what he needed.

That was his last thought before the bike tipped, hit the ground, and slid along the pavement and into the roadside ditch.

Fucking son of a bitch. That hurt.

Plus, now his bike was going to be dinged up.

Zeke lay just breathing for a few seconds, mentally cataloging what he was feeling. He’d been going slow so there weren’t going to be any serious injuries. His right leg hurt, but he was fairly certain it was just bruised and scraped. He’d broken enough bones to know the difference. His right arm throbbed, but he was sure his jacket had kept him from getting any skin-to-pavement injuries. His helmet was sitting askew, and he knew that it had kept him from smacking his head too hard, but his ears were still ringing a bit.

He lifted a hand to his temple. His fingertips came away sticky and red.

Dammit, and he was bleeding. How the fuck had that happened?

He’d better not need stitches. He hated getting stitches and they bothered his mom more than bruises.

He sat partially up and shoved at the bike. It only moved a little. Suddenly annoyed at everything, he gave a loud roar and lifted the bike as he jerked his leg out from under it.

There. At least he was free.

He flopped back into the weeds and grass.

With his luck he was going to run into a snake or a gator down here in the ditch. But honestly, at the moment, he didn’t give a shit.

He reached into his pocket for his phone. He could walk to his grandma’s bar, or to his shop, or to one of many houses, but he needed someone with a pickup to help him haul his bike. And he was feeling a little dizzy.

“Fuck. This is inconvenient,” he muttered to himself.

Zeke stared at his phone trying to decide who to call. The gamble was trying to get someone who was alone. One phone call could turn up anywhere from four to twelve Landrys.

No one needed twelve Landrys all at once for anything.

Unless it was a crawfish boil, of course.

But even two or three would just make the headache that was starting to brew behind his eyes worse.

“Leo’d be best,” he said out loud.

His grandfather wasn’t judgmental and had helped all of his grandsons out of worse than this at one time or another.

“But Leo’s never alone,” Zeke realized. Also out loud.

Leo would tell you it was because of the good-old-boy charm that was his curse, but the truth was, Leo never wanted to miss a thing, whether it be a tall tale, a bit of gossip, a dramatic moment, or a funny story. Or a chance at the last piece of pie—no matter the flavor.

“Could call Mitch.” Mitch had just driven by. And he was by far the nicest of the Landrys. Old or young. Not that the bar was very high.

Zeke started to dial Mitch’s number.

“Oh, baby, are you okay?”

His finger froze and he rolled his head at the sound of the feminine voice.

Or he could just let the owner of that voice take care of him.

“I’m a little sore, actually.”

The woman plopped onto her knees in the dirt beside him.

It was dark, so he couldn’t see her well.

That was also why he hadn’t clearly seen whatever it was that ran out in front of him until it was too late. He also hadn’t really been paying attention. He’d been too caught up in his thoughts about the penguin veterinarian and her new old house.

He was suddenly much less annoyed though.

The woman kneeling next to him leaned in and he caught the scent of coffee and soap.

He wasn’t sure why that struck him. Maybe because it was simple. She didn’t smell like perfume or flowery shampoo. She just smelled clean and comforting. Like that first cup of coffee in the morning after a shower.

That was a really weird thing to notice. And who drank coffee at eleven o’clock at night?

He probably had a concussion.

Great. That was just what he needed.

“Oh, sweetie,” she cooed.

And yep, he definitely felt a little better.

“I’ll be okay, but I could use a hand,” he said. Specifically, a woman’s soft hand rubbing his head and maybe her lips kissing his bump better.

Did he know her? She had long, dark hair and that was about all he could tell.

“Are you hurt or just scared?”

Zeke pushed himself up to sitting, wincing as his head swam and his leg ached as he shifted it. “A little hurt. Not scared at all.”

The woman looked up at him. “What?”

It was then that he realized she wasn’t talking to him.

And that she was holding a goat.

The little thing was cradled in her lap. It was also black.

He was ninety percent sure this was the reason that his bike was lying on its side in the ditch and he was bleeding from the head.

The woman was calling the goat “baby”.

“Wait, you’re worried about the goat?”

“You almost ran him over,” she said. “The poor thing’s probably terrified.”

“Do you see me lying here? Under a motorcycle? Bleeding?”

“Your own motorcycle. That you almost hit this goat with.”

Unbelievable.

Besides her long, dark hair which fell in waves to nearly the middle of her back, he could see she was small and slender. Her skin was pale, glowing just slightly in the moonlight and the dim light offered by the streetlamps across the road.

“Did you come over here to check on the goat?”

“Yes.”

“No concern for the human being at all?”

“I came over to make sure you were alive. But I immediately realized you were conscious and breathing.”

“How’s that?”

“You were moving around. And swearing. I saw you move the motorcycle off your leg. And I heard you talking to yourself. About Leo.”

Okay, so he was alive. There was a lot of space between that and totally fine though. “What if that’s the sign of a brain injury?”

“I certainly hope it’s not,” she said. “I talk to myself all the time.”

He noticed she was stroking her hand over the goat’s back as she held him and he seemed quite content in her lap.

Yeah, it was his experience with these goats—yes, he had experience with these goats because they belonged to his cousins’ petting zoo—that they loved attention in general and were smart enough to prefer female attention.

He frowned at the little animal. This one was Sneezy. Not because he actually sneezed a lot—or ever, as far as Zeke knew—but because some of the goats were named after the seven dwarves and, well, someone had to be Sneezy.

What the hell was Sneezy doing down here?

“Baaaa!”

He glanced over to the front of the motel across the street.

Ah. Well, that explained it. The other ten goats were clustered in front of the motel’s front office.

“Arf! Arf!”

Along with Benny—short for Beignet—Fletcher’s border collie.

Benny was just a pup and was learning about herding. Her instincts were spot on to…herd things. The details were a little bit much for her though. Like that she should herd them back to their barn.

Instead, she just herded them to whatever structure was closest when she found them.

It had turned into a game around town. Spearheaded by his grandmother, of course. She called it Goat Bingo and handed out cards at her bar.

It had started when Benny had herded the goats into the bar. Twice. The squares had various locations around town—the gas station, the church, the bridal shop, the gazebo, etc.—and when the goats ended up in one and you saw it, you could mark that square. If you got bingo and were the first to bring your card in to Ellie, you got a free drink and an order of fried pickles.

Charlie, his cousin and head of marketing for the petting zoo, had tried to get Ellie to do fried goat cheese balls, insisting that was funny and tied into a theme. Ellie had told her she wasn’t going for a theme and she didn’t have any goat cheese.

The conversation had gone on for ten minutes. Which was about eight longer than it took most people to realize they couldn’t win a debate with Ellie.

Zeke focused on the woman again. “So no petting for me then?”

“I called 9-1-1,” she said. “And like I said, you’re breathing and moving and I don’t see blood gushing from anywhere so you don’t need compression or a tourniquet or anything.”

He wasn’t so sure about fine, but he groaned. “You called 9-1-1?”

“That is the typical course of action when someone witnesses a motor vehicle accident.”

“Shouldn’t you have attempted some mouth-to-mouth or something first?”

He saw her dark brows rise. “Like I said, I heard you talking to yourself this entire time. Obviously your airway is working. And I don’t know that you don’t have any communicable diseases and that you’re not an ax murderer. So I thought keeping a little distance and being prepared to run might be a good idea.”

Fair enough.

But, shit. 9-1-1 meant his brother might be showing up. Then again….

“What did you tell them?”

“That I had witnessed a single motorcycle accident. And told them it was in front of the motel.”

He might get lucky. It might not be Zander, the cop, who responded to the call if they believed it was more of a medical call.

And yeah, okay, he wasn’t very hurt. A little banged up was all.

Zeke shoved to his feet. The goat startled slightly, but the woman tightened her arms around it and cooed to him softly that everything was going to be okay.

“He’s not hurt a bit, right?” Zeke knew he hadn’t hit the thing. He definitely would’ve felt that. Plus, he had great reflexes.

The woman shook her head. “He doesn’t seem to be. I should take him over where there’s more light and make sure.” She glanced over her shoulder as she got to her feet, still holding the baby animal. “He really just wants to be with his friends.”

Zeke nodded, then regretted it. His head was aching a bit.

“Griffin must be around here somewhere. If Sugar saw his truck, she would want out.”

“Sugar?”

He pointed across the street. “The white goat. She’s in love with our local veterinarian. Whenever she sees him, she wants out of the pen. Stan”—he pointed at the large goat who was off by himself, munching on some grass—“opens the gate for her. She’ll stand at the gate and cry until Stan gets sick of listening to her.”

The woman looked from him to the goat and back. “You’re serious?”

“Yeah. Anyway, whoever shows up to the 9-1-1 call will have to get them back to the barn. Good thing I’m fine,” he said dryly.

Just then a red pickup with a white cross and Autre Emergency Services in block letters on the side pulled around the corner.

Zeke let out a relieved breath. It was Michael, one of the firefighters and paramedics, not Zander.

Michael got out of his truck and approached. He was already grinning by the time he reached them. “Zeke.”

“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.

Still, there was something about her that he found intriguing. There was no question in his mind that it had to do in part with the fact that she was gorgeous.

Now that they’d moved closer to Michael’s truck and the street lights he could see her more clearly. He couldn’t tell what color her eyes were exactly or if she had freckles or if her teeth were perfectly straight or anything. But she had a cute turned up nose, that long, tightly wavy hair, and a great body. She was very petite. She only came to chest level on him and he was sure he could span her waist with both hands. She had small perky breasts, slim hips, and a tight ass. He’d bet she was a runner or something.

Most of all though, he wanted to make her smile.

That was very strange. But she seemed so serious.

She had a bit of a sense of humor that had peeked out. At least he assumed she was joking when talking about turning him into the authorities and getting him written up if he didn’t help her goats. But she also seemed…detached. She truly seemed unconcerned about his medical condition and she was willing to manipulate him into helping the animals.

Detached was not something that Zeke understood. He had never been detached about anything in his life that he could think of. He wasn’t sure anyone in his family could actually define that word.

Landrys attached. Period. To recipes. To favorite fishing spots. To favorite embarrass-your-relatives stories. To people. Most definitely to people.

Like leeches.

“Okay, fine,” he said. “We’ll get the goats back home. Then you have to let me buy you a drink.”

She shook her head. “No, I don’t.”

Zeke heard Michael snort. He cast his friend a glance.

“How about coffee?”

“I’m okay.”

“How about the best pecan pie you’ll ever have in your life?”

“No, thanks.”

“Goat cheese balls?”

Michael laughed out loud at that.

If she said yes to those, Zeke was going to be in trouble, but he knew this woman wasn’t going to let him buy her anything so he was just being sarcastic.

“Or goat steaks maybe?” he asked. He eyed Sneezy as he said it.

“No,” she said, clearly a bit exasperated.

Which was fine. Zeke was very familiar with people being exasperated with him.

“Look, it’s not like either of us is doing the other a favor by getting the goats to the barn,” the woman said. “They just need to get back. If you’d rather call someone else, I suppose we could do that. But the three of us are here and I think that’s more than enough to handle the goats, especially since there’s also a dog.”

Zeke snorted. “That dog is part of the problem.”

“She’s clearly still learning.”

“Clearly.”

“It just seems like a waste of time to wait for someone else to get here.” She paused. “Also seems like a waste of time to stand here talking about all of this instead of just getting it over with.”

Zeke wasn’t sure what to say. He was actually…offended.

He was very well-liked. That wasn’t his ego talking. That was just a fact. Yes, he was very well-liked by women in particular. It was unusual for women to not want to…consume things with him. But it was very uncommon for people in general not to want to spend time with him.

Then again, it also seemed unusual for someone to come upon another person who had just had a motorcycle accident and not be at least slightly concerned about them.

So the woman was weird.

It was her, not Zeke.

Okay, good. He could accept that.

It was better they not have a drink, or any goat products, together.