Chapter Thirteen
Daniel had to restrain a laugh at the expression on Mel’s face as she struggled up the hill from the goat pen. “It’s the altitude,” he said.
“I’ve hiked Mount Whitney,” she panted. “It’s not the altitude. It’s the shoes. My feet are killing me.”
He stopped and looked down at her with concern. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. Do you need to rest or sit down or something?”
“It’s okay. They’re great walking shoes, but I’m breaking them in today. The broken-in ones went up in smoke. Poof.”
“You should’ve told me sooner. Here.” He pointed to a low retaining wall. “Let’s sit for a minute.”
After finishing breakfast with some of Ouida’s biscuits and another round of coffee, Daniel had dragged Mel off for a tour. She seemed interested in the berry bushes and fruit trees and th
