They’re instantly surrounded by a small donkey, alpacas, calves, lambs, goats, a couple of dogs, chickens, and what Joy is positive is an actual capybara, the internet’s favorite lo-fi animal. When all the treats are gone most of the animals lose interest, wandering away, to Joy’s endless disappointment.

“Want to take a walk around the perimeter?” Fox points the area out—it’s one giant circle. “We have time.” Surprisingly, a pair of goats and a lamb follow their lead as they walk around the fenced edge of the field until they find a tree to sit under. Fox coaxes the lamb onto his lap and it promptly goes to sleep, tucked in close to his body.

Joy takes a few pictures of them for posterity and her heart. “The jokes I could make right now. Fox and a lamb.”

“I appreciate your restraint.”

“As you should. Can I ask you something instead?” She gives one of the goats scritches to stop it from nibbling on her sweater. “Why don’t you like Malcolm?”

“Is that what he told you?” Fox shakes his head. “The only problem I have with him is that he’s wrong for Summer.”

“If she wanted to get back together, would you?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Sixty-five percent.”

“I haven’t done anything! Again, this is a conversation! That requires back and forth! We’re building rapport! At least give me something to go on.”

“Why do you even need something?”

“Because I’ve been thinking. The whole point of this, us, is to show Malcolm a different side to me, I guess.” Joy sighs. “That doesn’t matter now. I got my answer straight from the source. But you’re still here with me anyway. Why?”

“So Malcolm can realize he’s in love with you.”

“He’s not,” Joy insists. “But for the sake of the conversation, then what?”

“If he realizes he’s in love with you, he’ll leave Summer alone.”

“Which is important to you because?”

Fox averts his gaze, focusing on his lamb. “I have my reasons.”

“Which are? Stop grumping with me.”

“Grumping?” He doesn’t bother trying to hide his smile and Joy’s heart soars when she sees his dimples again.

“Yes, you’re grumping around. Face it: you exude grump energy. Resting grump face. Forrest Grump. Oscar the Grump.”

“Please stop.”

“Sorry. My daily pun quota is behind schedule. I got carried away.” And now . . . Joy is definitely searching. She tells herself to stop, but she can’t help it. It’s like she’s obsessed with his face. He’s focusing on the grass now, lips pursed slightly.

“When I said we’re better off as friends, I might have let you believe that she decided that. She didn’t. I did,” he says. “She’s my best friend’s little sister.”

“Oh.” Joy’s gaze flicked to his thumb ring.

“Yeah. And he died in a car accident five years ago.”