Sneak Peek!

Every Little Thing

Chapter One

DR. WILLA MAE PARKER stared up at the goat on the slanted shed roof and wondered, not for the first time, if she’d taken a wrong turn in life somewhere around vet school. 

The goat in question, all sixty pounds of sass and silver fur, glared down at her with the kind of disdain usually reserved for people who wear socks with sandals or talk on speakerphone in public bathrooms. 

“Geraldine,” Willa said, rain trickling down her collar as she held out a baby carrot as a bribe, “we’ve talked about this. Just because you can climb something doesn’t mean you should.” 

Geraldine flicked an ear and turned three slow, theatrical circles before settling into an even more dignified position atop the shed. Her bored expression made one thing painfully clear: She knew exactly who was in charge, and it wasn’t the human standing ankle-deep in the mud and waving vegeta bles in the air. 

In her years as Sunrise, North Carolina’s only veterinar ian, Willa had handled her share of bizarre emergencies. She had performed CPR on a guinea pig named Kevin, extracted a tennis ball from a python named Sir Hiss-a-Lot, and once convinced an angry possum to vacate a church confessional before Sunday services. But this rooftop hostage situation with Geraldine was testing even her considerable patience. “Dr. Parker?” Mr. Morris called from behind her, his voice strained with worry. “Think you can get her down before the storm gets worse?” 

“Don’t worry,” Willa replied with more confidence than she felt, wiping rain from her eyes. “Geraldine and I have an understanding. She acts like she’s auditioning for Broadway, and I pretend I’m not being outsmarted by a farm animal.” 

As if understanding the insult, Geraldine bleated dramatically and rose to take two prancing steps higher on the roof. “Oh, that’s mature,” Willa muttered, wondering again why she’d chosen a profession where success depended on reasoning with creatures who ate tin cans for fun. Beside Willa, Mrs. Morris wrung her hands, exhaustion etched in the deep circles under her eyes. “She’s never done this before,” she said, her voice trembling. “I don’t know what’s gotten into her. We were just trying to get her ready.” She swallowed hard. “I hate that I can’t take care of her anymore. Not since Tom’s accident and the medical bills …” Willa’s heart ached. She couldn’t fix everything. She couldn’t heal Mr. Morris’s back or battle the insurance company. But she could make sure Geraldine was cared for. It’s what her father would have done. And what she was about to do, if she could just get this four-legged drama queen off the roof and figure out how she got up there in the first place. 

Willa glanced at the rusted-out pickup parked a few feet from the shed, its dented hood now stamped with dainty hoof prints. Well, that explained it. Geraldine might be small, but she clearly had Olympic-level jumping skills. Or maybe she was just picking up on the stress in the Morris household. Goats weren’t exactly known for their emotional depth, but sometimes animals could read a room better than people. And right now, Geraldine’s world was shifting. Her humans were anxious, and the air was thick with uncertainty. All that nervous energy had to go somewhere, and the roof was as good a place as any. 

Willa scrubbed a hand down her face and glanced toward the road, where a small group of neighborhood kids had gathered by the fence, their eyes wide with anticipation. 

“Five bucks says Dr. Parker has to climb up there,” one of them said. 

“No way. She always has a plan.” 

“Yeah, remember when she got that raccoon out of the town Christmas tree?” 

Willa sighed. The raccoon incident had involved three candy canes, a welding glove, and a standoff that ended with both of them crashing into the nativity scene. It was still the most-watched video on the town of Sunrise’s Facebook page. 

“Okay, kids,” she called out. “Pop quiz: Why do goats like to climb?” 

Six hands shot up, accompanied by various levels of bouncing. Willa pointed to the smallest girl, whose glasses were too big for her face. 

“Because they eat leaves and shrubs, and not just grass,” the girl declared proudly. 

“Excellent!” Willa grinned. “Eating off the ground is for peasants. Goats browse at all different heights to see what’s on the buffet. And what’s the best way to convince a browser to come down?” 

“Offer something better!” the kids chorused. 

Willa reached into her coat pocket and pulled out her secret weapon—a peanut butter sandwich she’d meant to eat hours ago but had gotten too busy to touch. 

Geraldine’s ears flicked forward when Willa pulled it from the baggie. 

“That’s right. Now, pay attention, because this will be on the test,” Willa said, earning giggles as she arranged a trail of sandwich pieces down the plank she’d propped against the shed. “Sometimes, being a vet means thinking like your patient. Right now, I’m thinking like a goat who won’t lift a hoof without the right caterer.” 

Willa’s phone buzzed. The clinic’s number flashed on the screen with a text from her front desk manager, and she could practically hear Aggie’s exasperated voice: Your 4:30 nail trim isn’t going to wait just because you’re sweet-talking a goat. And don’t even think about bringing home more strays. The pens are full, the shed’s bursting, and unless that goat can sleep hanging from the ceiling, we’re out of space. 

Rain soaked Willa’s scrubs as she checked her watch. Aggie had handed her a printout of the day’s schedule before she left. She still had to check on Mr. Philby’s elderly poodle, vaccinate Mrs. Norris’s new rescue cat, and, somewhere in between, finish the paperwork to make an offer on the Higgins property. 

But she couldn’t just abandon Mrs. Morris and Geraldine. Her dad’s voice echoed in her head. Sometimes the best medi cine is just being there when they need you, Peanut. 

He would have loved this—his daughter negotiating with a goat while giving an impromptu science lesson to a bunch of kids. The same kids who now visited the clinic every day after school, just like she used to when he ran it. 

“Dr. Parker!” One of the boys pointed. “Look!” 

Geraldine had finally decided to make her grand descent, picking her way down the plank as if she’d simply grown bored with the roof, and the timing of Willa’s carefully placed treats was purely coincidental. She paused between each step, making sure everyone fully appreciated the performance. 

“Nobody move,” Willa whispered. “Let her think this was entirely her idea.” 

Once on solid ground, Geraldine allowed Willa to lead her to the trailer, but not before shooting her a look that clearly said, I’m letting you think you won this one. 

As Willa clicked the latch closed, Mrs. Morris touched her arm. “Thank you, Dr. Parker. I know your daddy would be proud of you.” 

Willa swallowed against the tightness rising in her throat. Seven years gone, and some days the loss still hit as if it was yesterday. Especially in moments like this, standing in the rain, helping a Sunrise family through a rough patch, the same way he always had. He’d taught her that being a vet wasn’t just about treating animals. It was about looking out for their people too. 

“Well, somebody’s got to keep an eye on all of Sunrise’s troublemakers.” She patted the hard side of the trailer, where Geraldine had already settled in and was happily munching on a fresh batch of hay. “And soon we’ll have a proper sanc tuary for all of them.” 

The sanctuary had been her father’s dream. It was part clinic, part refuge, and part second chance for any creature that needed his help. Now it was her dream, and she was determined to make it real. She had the vision, the land picked out, and just enough grit to see it through, assuming the universe could give her five uninterrupted minutes without an animal-related emergency. 

It wasn’t until she was pulling away that she caught sight of her crumpled schedule on the passenger seat, smudged and soggy from the rain. She glanced in the rearview mirror at her new passenger. “I don’t suppose you’re any good at trimming a poodle’s nails, are you?” 

Geraldine didn’t so much as blink. 

WILLA ALMOST MADE IT. She’d just gotten Geraldine through the clinic’s back gate when— 

“MRAAAAAH!” 

The noise the goat made was earsplitting, dramatic, and absolutely deliberate. A window rattled. Somewhere inside, a phone rang. And from the front desk, Aggie let out a long, knowing sigh. 

“Willa Mae Parker, I know you are not trying to smuggle that goat past me.” 

That was ten minutes ago. Since then, Willa had been stuck at the front desk, enduring Aggie’s commentary and exaggerated sighs, as if sneaking a goat past her was some deep, personal betrayal. Which, knowing Aggie—retired high school principal, reigning queen of town gossip, and self declared expert in absolutely everything—it probably was. 

Aggie pushed her rhinestone reading glasses to the top of her head, nestling them into her spiky silver hair. “You know, Willa, a young, single professional like yourself ought to be sneaking hot young bachelors into her yard, not farm animals.” 

“Yeah, well, unless you’ve been hiding them somewhere, there aren’t a lot of eligible men around here. Small town, slim pickings.” Willa let out a tired laugh. “The last guy who asked me out still lived in his mother’s basement, and the one before that put his teeth on the table during the salad course.” She gave Aggie a pointed look. “So unless you’ve got a secret stash of attractive, gainfully employed men, I’ll stick with the goats.” 

Aggie tsked. “That’s quitter talk. Just because your options are limited doesn’t mean they don’t exist. You just need to be more creative.” 

“Creative how?” Willa asked, already regretting opening this door. 

Aggie ticked off on her fingers. “Online dating. Match making services. That thing where women on TikTok flirt with men at Home Depot—” 

Willa groaned. “Aggie …” 

“—or, and hear me out, you could just let me help,” Aggie finished smoothly. “I set up Coach Dillard and the lunch lady, you know.” 

Willa blinked. “You mean the couple who raise llamas together now?” 

“Exactly. That was all me. The longest marriage in Sunrise High faculty history.” Aggie beamed. 

“That’s not the brag you think it is.” 

Aggie waved her off. “Point is, you’ve got to expand your geographical search. There are plenty of fish in the sea.” “Yeah, well, I don’t have time to go fishing,” Willa said. “Between running this clinic and trying to get the sanctuary off the ground, my schedule is full.” 

Aggie sighed, shaking her head as if Willa was personally letting down the entire institution of romance. “Honey, that’s just an excuse. You wrangle escaped animals on a weekly basis. Are you telling me you can’t wrangle a date?” 

Before Willa could respond, there was a familiar clank from the back. 

Aggie glanced toward the sound, unimpressed. “Well, that didn’t take long. Your brand-new goat just declared herself a free agent.” 

Willa turned just in time to hear the soft creak of the gate swinging open. 

“Oh, for the love of—” 

And just like that, the conversation about her love life was over. Because Geraldine was on the loose and heading down Main Street. 

“Before you ask,” Aggie said, smirking, “yes, I’ve already updated our social media accounts. That Elliott boy taught me filters. I added the sparkles.” 

Willa closed her eyes for a second. Two months with Aggie as the temporary receptionist at the clinic’s front desk while her normal vet tech and receptionist Judy recovered from a knee replacement, and somehow their social media presence had quadrupled. Probably less because of Aggie’s obsession with filters and more because she had an uncanny ability to hit record exactly when chaos erupted. 

Unfortunately, Willa had a strong suspicion that whatever was happening outside was about to give their followers even more entertainment. With a resigned sigh, she turned toward the door. “I’m going after her.” 

“Take the treat bag, honey. She’s faster than you.” Willa snatched it off the hook and shot Aggie a look. “You could help, you know.” 

She was already up and grabbing her glitter-encrusted phone case. “I’ll just put up the ‘Back in 5 minutes’ sign. Mrs. Hendricks won’t mind.” 

“Aggie, you can’t just—” Willa began. 

But Aggie was already flipping the sign and ushering their only waiting client into the sunshine. “Now, Martha,” Aggie drawled, settling beside her, “you don’t need to pretend Whiskers has the sniffles again just to flip through last month’s Better Homes & Gardens. Come on out and watch this. Dr. Parker’s about to go chasing after a goat.” 

Martha huffed, but the corners of her mouth twitched. She set down the magazine with a sigh and reached for her over sized purse. 

As Willa stepped outside, scanning for her missing goat, Martha’s voice floated through the open door. “If she throws her back out again, I’ll bring her a batch of lemon bars.” 

Willa’s brain betrayed her with the image of tart filling and powdered sugar piled high. She shook her head. Focus. Goat now. Lemon bars later. Probably with ice packs. 

It wasn’t hard to locate Geraldine, because she was trot ting down the middle of Main Street. She wasn’t running. No, the goat had just enough dignity to make it look like a casual stroll, even stopping occasionally to munch on a potted plant or investigate a trash receptacle. 

The late afternoon sun cast a golden glow over Sunrise’s weathered storefronts, catching the antique shop’s window displays and the hardware store’s wind chimes. A salty breeze carried the mixed scents of the ocean and the nearby honeysuckle, while somewhere in the distance, the bait shop’s screen door clattered against its frame. 

Normally, Willa loved how the whole town felt like a snow globe filled with saltwater and sweet tea instead of snow. But today, that charm was working against her. 

Because instead of helping, half the tourists on Main Street had pulled out their phones, snapping pictures of Geraldine like she was the grand marshal of some unplanned parade. 

Willa gritted her teeth and picked up the pace. If she didn’t move fast, this was going to end up on way more than just Aggie’s Instagram. 

The Salty Spoon came into view up ahead, its white trim glowing in the soft light, the porch lined with mismatched rockers and the scent of fresh cinnamon rolls wafting through the open windows. Part café and part gossip headquarters, it was one of Willa’s favorite places to unwind. It also didn’t hurt that the chef was a friend who kept her in BLTs and pastries when her shifts ran long. 

“Oh, Lord.” Willa caught sight of Aggie’s best friends, Bea and Winston, on the café’s porch, perfectly at ease, enjoying an afternoon tea. Too at ease, considering what was headed straight for them. 

Because strutting toward the duo, head high and tail flicking with the dignified air of a princess arriving fashion ably late to tea, was Geraldine. She didn’t pick up speed, because that would suggest urgency, and Geraldine never rushed for anyone. She simply veered casually toward the porch, as if she’d made reservations weeks ago. 

But Willa knew better. This was the same goat who had gotten her head stuck in a mailbox twice in one afternoon, the second time mere minutes after Willa had delivered a stern lecture about “learning from our mistakes.” The same goat who had eaten Mrs. Morris’s entire paperback romance novel, then burped directly into the librarian’s face with such impressive volume it could only be interpreted as a scathing review. 

Chaos didn’t just follow Geraldine; it orbited her like she was its sun, trapped in her gravitational pull. 

And then Willa spotted them. The cookie plate with its delicate blue flower pattern. The fancy china cups Cora had mentioned once belonged to her grandmother. The vintage teapot that probably had a history longer than the town’s annual Honeysuckle Festival and definitely didn’t deserve whatever hurricane of hooves and horns was about to descend upon it. 

Oh no. Nope. Absolutely not. Willa broke into a run, her boots slapping against the pavement. “Geraldine!” she called, knowing full well the goat had selective hearing that only functioned when treat bags rustled nearby. “Stop!” 

“This is better than my stories,” Aggie called from behind her, phone held high. She was keeping up remarkably well for someone who claimed her knees were strictly decorative these days. “Bea! Winston! Don’t you dare catch that goat before I get this on camera.” 

Willa rounded the corner just as Geraldine made her move on the cookie plate. “No, no, no …” 

“You know,” Aggie commented, somehow both filming and keeping pace, “this reminds me of the time I had to chase a senior prankster through the school parking lot after he tried to release three hundred bait crickets in the teachers’ lounge. Lot of running, lot of screaming. Real similar energy.” “Not the time, Aggie!” 

“There’s always time for adventure, dear. Speaking of which …” Aggie’s voice took on a particular tone that Willa had learned to fear. 

That’s when Willa spotted Geraldine’s true target. The goat was stationed at the top of the porch steps, her stance suggesting she was about to execute whatever master plan she’d devised while prancing along the boardwalk. Willa caught a flash of navy out of the corner of her eye and barely had time to process that it didn’t belong on Main Street at this hour. Not unless someone had lost their lawyer on the way to court or had just come from a funeral. 

“Geraldine, don’t you dare—” 

Too late. The goat timed her intervention perfectly, just as a tall figure in an obscenely well-tailored suit rounded the corner. One strategic headbutt to Willa’s hip later, and she found herself stumbling directly into a chest that felt as if it belonged on the cover of one of Mrs. Morris’s romance novels. 

Strong hands caught her by the waist as she collided with what might have been a wall wearing pinstripes. He was tall and solid, his suit tailored within an inch of its life and defi nitely not purchased off the rack at the Bargain Barn off Highway 17. It was the kind of suit that said I have a favorite whiskey, and I never forget to floss. He smelled clean and warm, with a hint of something woodsy and expensive, and it made her brain short out just long enough to forget she was ankle deep in goat drama. She was also sweaty from chasing after Geraldine, slightly winded, and already regretting the amount of awareness she had of the well-dressed man’s hands still resting on her hips. 

“Would you look at that?” Aggie’s stage whisper carried across the porch, her smile pure satisfaction as she filmed the action. “Geraldine’s got better instincts than half the singles in this town.” 

Geraldine, apparently convinced anything that expensive had to be hiding premium treats, nibbled at the stranger’s tie and then shoved her nose straight into his pocket. 

“Oh no! Geraldine!” Willa lunged forward on instinct, reaching for the goat’s collar. 

But Geraldine twisted, and Willa missed her target completely. Her hand didn’t land on the goat’s collar. It landed squarely inside the man’s pocket. 

His pants pocket. 

She froze. 

So did he. 

And somewhere in the background, Aggie gasped like she’d just been given a gift. 

“I-I-I didn’t mean to …” Willa stammered, frozen in horror as her fingers brushed something soft and probably expensive. 

“Are you frisking me?” he asked, his voice rich with amusement and just the faintest edge of curiosity. “Is that a small-town, Southern custom I wasn’t aware of?” 

Willa yanked back her hand. “I swear, I was just trying to save you from the goat.” 

“Of course you were,” he said, smiling now. “That’s what they all say.” 

She could feel her face going up in flames. “Geraldine, you are an absolute menace,” she hissed, tugging at the goat’s collar with one hand and using the other to gently shove her snout back where it belonged. “Those pockets cost more than my last semester of vet school,” she muttered, mostly to herself, which did nothing to stop the blush burning across her cheeks. 

The man gave a low, rusty chuckle. “It’s fine,” he said. He let go of her arm and stepped back, creating just enough space between them that Willa suddenly felt both relieved and oddly disappointed. Then he reached down toward Geraldine, hesitating just before making contact with the goat’s determined snout. 

“Is there a protocol for goat deflection I should know about?” he asked, eyebrows raised. “I’d rather not lose a finger today.” 

“Just firmly redirect,” Willa said, demonstrating by gently but authoritatively pushing Geraldine’s face away from his other pocket. Her fingers accidentally brushed against his thigh in the process, sending an unexpected jolt of awareness up her arm that made her nearly lose her grip on the goat entirely. “Um, like that. But maybe with less touching.” His mouth quirked up on one side. “Noted.” 

Up close, Willa could see the subtle hint of scruff along his jaw, as if he’d either forgotten to shave this morning or done it in a hurry. His suit was definitely expensive, but it had a few slight wrinkles near the shoulder. And then there were his eyes. They were a deep, rich brown, the color of old bour bon, sharp with intelligence but softened by something else. 

Something she was not supposed to be noticing. But between the man’s ridiculous jawline, the way his cologne mixed unfairly well with the salt air, and the fact that Geraldine was still determined to rob him, Willa’s brain had officially stopped being helpful. 

“Connor,” he said, breaking the silence. He extended his hand. “Connor Stone.” 

“Willa Parker,” she replied, reaching out, then immediately regretting it when she realized her hand was damp with goat slobber. 

They shook anyway, because apparently this was her life now. 

“Doctor Willa Parker,” Aggie corrected loudly from behind them. “Board-certified, top of her class, owns her own clinic, and only occasionally gets headbutted by livestock. A real catch, if you ask me.” 

Willa groaned. “Aggie, please don’t.” 

“I’m just saying, she’s beautiful, successful …” Aggie turned toward her phone, which was still recording. “And unreasonably good with sedated possums.” She added that last bit as if it was a skill any sane man should desire. 

Connor looked amused. Willa felt it would be a great time for the ground to open up and swallow both her and her goat protégé whole. 

From behind them, Aggie was still narrating. “You see? This is what happens when you dress for success in a town where most people live in T-shirts and flip-flops,” she declared, phone held high. “The universe has plans, people.” “Aggie,” Bea murmured from her chair, though her attempt at sounding scolding was completely undercut by the smile she hid behind her teacup. 

“What? I’m just providing context for our viewers. Did you know we have followers in three countries now?” The stranger glanced down at Willa, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Should I be worried about going viral?” “Honey, with that jawline? You should be thanking me,” Aggie said, zooming in on them. “Though I might edit out that little spot of goat drool on your tie. We’re going for a meet-cute here, not America’s Funniest Home Videos.” Willa made a strangled sound somewhere between a laugh and a plea for divine intervention. “I think that’s enough social media for one day.” 

But Geraldine, who had been watching the whole thing unfold with the patience of someone waiting for the perfect comedic beat, chose that moment to make her move. With one well-placed headbutt, she sent Willa stumbling forward, right into Connor’s chest. 

Again. 

Geraldine, thoroughly pleased with herself, let out a smug bleat that sounded an awful lot like, You’re welcome.