Gripping his broom tighter, he heads to the bushes. Before he comes closer, there’s a flutter of wings, and suddenly, the rooster is here—bursting out from the shadows with a squawk that sounds way too smug for a farm animal.
“Get him!” I shout, pointing dramatically like that’s going to help at all. Jericho dives in with his broom, and I try to corner the rooster, but the bird is a blur of feathers and fury, zigzagging between us like he’s playing tag.
I lunge, nearly falling into a bush—I can see sharp needles poking out from the twigs, and I flinch as I prepare to be impaled by tiny spikes. How the feathery bastard was able to hide inside is beyond my understanding. But before those needles can scratch my face, a big hand catches my elbow, pulling me back upright. It’s warm and steady, and for a split second, I forget we’re supposed to be chasing a bird.
“Thanks,” I manage, feeling breathless in a way that’s definitely not from running. All this proximity is too close to yesterday’s events, and I’m not able to control my fluttering emotions very well yet.
“My pleasure,” he mutters, but I catch the hint of a smirk as he lets go, shoving me back toward the chase.
We scramble after the rooster, with me pushing a few pickets to the side and slipping through the gap in the fence back into my yard.
“So this is how you come and go as you please,” he remarks while trying to follow me through the narrow gap. It’s not an easy task considering it was created for my size.
“Oops.”
He’s asked about that before, but it was too fun to appear like a ghost out of nowhere. Plus, I thought he’d nail it shut once he found out about the shortcut.
The rooster darts through my yard, hopping up onto my grilllike he owns the place, leaping from it to the lowest hanging ledge of my roof and out of reach. He lets out another ear-piercing crow, wings flapping as if to say, “Nice try, suckers.”
Jericho and I come to a halt, breathing hard, glaring up at our feathered nemesis. I think this is the first time I’m actually seeing him so close. Until now, I wasn’t sure he wasn’t just my imagination. The thought of me hallucinating the creature has crossed my mind one or two times.
For a second, we just stand there, side by side, panting like we’ve just run a marathon. Then, despite myself, I start to laugh—a short, breathless sound that I can’t quite swallow back.
Jericho glances at me, one corner of his mouth twitching like he’s fighting off a smile. “You think this is funny?”
I shrug, still trying to catch my breath. “You have to admit, he’s got style.”
“Oh, yeah. Real classy.” He swipes a hand through his hair, leaving it messier than before, and there’s a look on his face that’s almost… relaxed. It’s a nice change from his usual guardedness, and I hate that I notice such a subtle change in him. I’m probably in way deeper than I thought.
We watch as the rooster flaps his way from the roof to the top of the fence, disappearing into the mist like a tiny, feathered phantom. I shake my head. “I swear, this bird is some kind of genius.”
“More like a demon,” Jericho mutters, but he’s not nearly as grumpy as he pretends to be. “So… same time tomorrow?”
“For what?” I can’t help but ask, biting my lip. I’m totally flirting at six in the morning and can’t stop.
His eyes flash over to me and darken. Maybe it’s from the tiredness of early wakings, or maybe it’s because he’s recalling the previous evening too. “For the chase.”
Me or the rooster?
I roll my eyes, but I can’t quite hide the smile tugging at my lips—he totally picked the safe subject which stopped myunsuccessful flirting attempt before it actually began. “Yeah. Maybe we should bring snacks.”
“Sure.” His lips twitch. “Because that’s what we’re missing in this circus. Snacks.”
“Laugh all you want, but I’ll be the one enjoying my granola bar when he runs you in circles again while I just wait for him to tire out. And maybe you chase him with the rake.” Without voicing my intrusive thought of him running preferably naked, I tilt my chin up, a challenge in my eyes, and I swear he almost smiles back. “See? Change of techniques.”
He shakes his head, muttering something under his breath, but there’s a lightness in his expression that makes me think maybe he doesn’t hate this nightly chase quite as much as he lets on. Just like I don’t.
As we part ways, he pauses before the hole in the fence. “And Nora?”
“Yeah?” I turn, trying to play it cool, but my voice comes out a pitch too high. It’s embarrassing that he makes me this flustered.
“Wear more clothes next time.” He says it quietly, but there’s a rough edge to his words that makes me shiver against the cold. Dangerous. Almost warning. Yet not quite enough to make my pulse spike.
“What? Why?” I feel my brows drawing together, trying hard to maintain my confusion under his intense gaze. But it’s hard to miss the way he’s looking at me. The way his eyes travel down my body, blazing, slower than before. It’s more than an appreciative look—it’s a look that sears right through me, leaving me exposed and breathless.
“You know why,” he replies raspily, and there’s something raw in his voice that makes me suck in a breath.
He’s right. I do know why. But hearing it, seeing his reaction, is a whole different story.
