Chapter 3 Three

Orion’s POV

The sharp click of hooves on marble pulled me out of sleep, followed by that irritating bleat bouncing around the penthouse.

Reina must have left the door cracked because the goat “needed to feel free.” Now the animal was loose, gnawing the edge of my cashmere throw and leaving hoof prints across rugs that cost more than most people’s cars.

This could not keep happening.

I needed real containment: a crate, bed, toys, anything at all to stop the destruction. I got up, grabbed my keys and planned to fix it alone and fast but Reina stepped into the hallway, eyes still sleepy, swimming in one of my old button-down shirts that hung loose on her like a nightgown.

She smiled wide and bright. “Morning handsome. Where are you going so early?”

“Your goat is wrecking my place,” I said, voice flat and cold. “We are buying supplies. Now.”

Her eyes lit up like I had just offered her a prize. “Oh perfect. I’m coming. Bessie should pick her own bed.”

I almost told her no.

Almost.

But she was already yanking on boots and clipping that ridiculous pink leash, bouncing with excitement like this was the best day of her life. Arguing would have taken longer than just going. So I let her tag along.

We rode down in silence. Mine, anyway. She filled the space with soft talk about how city pet stores must have the most amazing goat things. Bessie looked thrilled just to be moving.

The store was ridiculous. Chandeliers, quiet music, pet beds priced like designer furniture. I went straight for the biggest crate. Reina let Bessie wander.

In seconds the goat charged a display of cat trees. They toppled like bowling pins. Shoppers froze. Staff rushed over. Reina laughed out loud and said, “She’s just saying hello. Isn’t she the cutest?”

The manager appeared, polite but clearly annoyed. I started apologizing and reached for my card. Reina was already chatting away telling stories about the farm, how goats are smart and sweet.

In no time the man was grinning, handing us free bags of organic treats, telling her she was the nicest customer he had seen in weeks.

I stood there clutching the crate, jaw locked so tight my teeth hurt, while she turned total chaos into a friendly visit.

Then Bessie spotted a pile of luxury dog beds, grabbed the corner of one, and started chewing. The tag bragged about hand-stitched Italian leather. I lunged to stop her. She darted away, leash whipping, and knocked over an entire rack of chew toys. Bright plastic balls rolled everywhere like spilled marbles.

Reina scooped her up, giggling. “Look, she found her favorite. So clever.”

I paid for the ruined bed, the treats, the crate, the toys, everything. We walked out loaded down. Bessie looked proud of herself.

The drive back was a nightmare.

I thought the back seat would keep her contained. At the first red light Bessie slipped free and scrambled straight into my lap digging her hooves into my thighs.

She then bleated right in my ear while horns blared. I saw phones come up in other cars to capture this. I struggled to keep the wheel steady with my teeth clenched so hard my jaw ached.

Reina did not share my pain. She laughed until tears sparkled in her eyes. She then reached over and patted my shoulder to say: “She trusts you already and you drive like you mean business. It’s really attractive.”

Heat hit my neck. I stared straight ahead and said nothing. Her laugh stayed in the car, bright and unstoppable, cutting through the traffic noise.

We pulled up to the building. Paparazzi swarmed the front entrance, cameras flashing. That lobby video had clearly blown up online. I muttered a curse, grabbed the bags, and told Reina to stay close. We slipped through the side door into the service elevator.

The thing was tiny. The metal walls smelled like bleach and old cardboard. I pressed my back to one side, arms full of crate and bags. Reina moved in front, Bessie tucked under her arm, leash dangling. The doors closed. The elevator groaned upward.

The air turned hot and thick fast. Her shoulder brushed my chest every time the car swayed. Her braid grazed my chin while I tried not to notice.

She looked up, eyes sparkling in the dim light. “This is kind of cozy.”

“It’s a freight elevator,” I said, short and cold.

She laughed softly. The sound bounced off the walls, too close. Bessie squirmed, hooves scraping my shoe, then stretched up and licked my chin. I jerked back suddenly, hitting my head against the wall.

Her hand landed on my chest to steady me, palm flat over my heart. It was pounding harder than it had any right to. “Easy handsome. She’s just saying thank you.”

I felt the beat jump under her touch. I should have moved her hand. I didn’t.

The elevator stopped between floors and as the lights flickered, Reina shifted closer on instinct pressing her body against mine from chest to thigh. Bessie bleated in complaint.

I went rigid as her warmth pressed in. For one brief, stupid second I pictured my hands on her waist, my mouth on hers, turning that laugh into something quieter.

The elevator jerked and started moving again. She eased back and said: “Your heart’s racing.”

“It's adrenaline,” I snapped.

She smiled slowly and knowingly but let it drop. The elevator dinged. I stepped out first as the doors opened hauling heavy bags with stiff shoulders.

Reina followed, bumping my arm lightly. “Thanks for today. It was fun.”

I gave no reply.

My skin still felt warm where she had touched me.

My thoughts were a mess

Reina’s POV

I could not stop smiling the whole day. Orion is the most handsome man I have ever seen, even when he tries so hard to look cold and annoyed.

His sharp jaw, those stormy eyes, the way he holds himself so tall and sure that it makes my stomach flip every time he glances my way. But he is not used to messy things, and today was full of messes and that made it even better.

When he woke up grumpy because Bessie was roaming the penthouse again, chewing his fancy blanket and leaving little muddy prints, I knew we had to do something. He said we needed supplies and his voice was so flat and icy I almost laughed.

But I love that he cares enough to fix things, even if he acts like he hates every second.

He wanted to go alone I could tell, but I was not staying behind in this big empty place while he went out into the city.

I hurriedly slipped on my boots, clipped Bessie’s leash, and followed him. He did not argue much and that was a small win.

The pet store felt like stepping into a fairy tale. Chandeliers twinkling overhead, soft music playing, beds so plush and pretty I wanted to lie down on one myself.

Back home we make do with old blankets and hay bales. Here everything sparkled and smelled like money. Orion went straight for the biggest crate, all business. I let Bessie wander because she deserves to see new things too.

When she bumped those cat trees and they crashed down, I could not help laughing. It was just so Bessie: curious and full of energy. People stared at first, then smiled because how can you stay mad at a little spotted goat?

Orion’s face went tight like he wanted the floor to swallow him, but I talked to the manager about our farm and how goats are the sweetest animals once you know them.

Soon the man was laughing too, giving us free treats and calling me the nicest person who had walked in all month.

Orion paid for everything without a word, holding that huge crate like it weighed nothing. His sleeves were rolled up, hair a little messy from the rush, and he looked so handsome standing there all serious and frustrated.

I wanted to hug him right in the middle of the store.

Then Bessie found the fancy dog beds and started chewing one. Orion lunged and she dodged, scattering the toys everywhere. I scooped her up and laughed until my sides hurt. Orion paid again,with his jaw clenched so tight I thought it might crack. But he did not yell at me or Bessie. That quiet patience makes my heart feel warm and full.

In the car Bessie climbed right into his lap at a red light. Horns honked. People took pictures. I laughed so hard tears came. Orion froze, staring down at those little hooves on his fancy trousers, but he did not shout or push her off. He just sighed and kept driving.

I patted his shoulder and told him he looked attractive behind the wheel because it is true.

When we got the building and saw the paparazzi with their flashing cameras, Orion grabbed my hand for a second to pull me toward the side door. We squeezed into that tiny service elevator with bags and Bessie everywhere.

His body was warm and solid against mine. His clean soap smell mixed with the faint city air on his shirt. When the elevator stopped between floors and the lights flickered I leaned in closer because being pressed against him felt safe and exciting all at once.

He grumbled that it was not romantic. His voice sounded rough, almost shaky. His heart raced under my palm like a scared horse. I teased him softly because I could feel the same flutter in my own chest.

For a moment I pictured him turning, arms coming around me, kissing me slow and deep right there in that little metal box, forgetting the cameras and the goat and the ninety days. He did not kiss me and he did not push me away either.

When we stepped out I thanked him. Today was wild and loud and nothing like my quiet farm days, but it felt alive. Orion stayed quiet, but he did not step away from the light bump of my arm against his.

We are so different, but every messy, funny minute today pulled us a little closer.

He fights it hard with his cold looks and short words but I can feel the ice cracking and that makes me happy in the deepest, warmest way.