“Maybe we should wait to make friends after we get them back outside,” Ash suggested. “Cute can still bite.”

She looked down at her finger where a little drop of blood was forming. “Good idea. Plus, I don’t want to scare them. Beula could get hurt falling off that counter.”

“What time—”

As if on cue, a loud knock sounded from the front of the house, cutting off Ash’s question. The vet. Thank God. They headed back into the living room, and Kincaid hurried to the door to open it.

“Marco,” she said, delight in her voice. “Thank you so much for getting out here so fast.”

A broad, linebacker-sized guy with light-brown skin, thick dark hair, and an easy smile stepped inside. “Of course,” he said, his voice full of affection as he embraced her. “I wouldn’t leave you dealing with a goat emergency alone. Plus, you lucked out that I happened to be nearby. I’m looking at a site for a new clinic in Wilder.”

“A new site?” She slapped him lightly on the arm as she stepped back from the embrace. “You should’ve called me. You know I’ve got the real estate hookup out here.”

Marco cocked his head. “I didn’t realize you handled commercial property.”

Kincaid put a hand on her hip and tipped up her chin. “I’m a woman of many talents.”

“Of that I have no doubt,” he said warmly. “And I’ll take you up on that. The building I saw today isn’t going to work.”

Ash watched from a few steps away, the obvious ease between these two annoying him for some reason. Marco glanced over and noticed Ash for the first time. The guy sent him a genial smile and strode forward with his hand out. “Hey. I’m Marco.”

Ash shook the guy’s hand. “Ash.”

“Oh,” Kincaid said as if she’d forgotten she and Marco weren’t alone. “Sorry. Dr. Marco Garrett, this is my friend, Ash Isaacs, also known as writer Ashton Stone. He’s visiting from New York. Ash, this is Wes’s brother.”

“Ashton Stone?” Marco released his hand. “I’ve read one of your books.”

Kincaid beamed like a mom getting a compliment about her kid.

“Oh really?” Ash asked.

Marco nodded. “Yeah, a while back. Great book.”

“Thanks,” Ash said, choking down his grumpiness.

“Except for that part where the bird died,” Marco went on. “There’s a treatment for that condition, you know? They wouldn’t have had to put him down. He could’ve been saved.”

The grumpiness came back like a chicken bone in Ash’s throat.

Kincaid laughed and sent Ash an I-told-you-so look. “Believe me, I’ve lectured him about not killing any more fictional birds. We have an agreement now.”

Marco chuckled. “Sorry. Didn’t meant to reignite a debate. I really did enjoy the book.”

Ash nodded, figuring he was better off keeping his mouth shut.

“So—” Marco turned to Kincaid. “I hear the goats.” He peered into the living room past Ash. “And I see the destruction they’ve left behind. Where are our culprits?”