Her hair smells like warm honey, and her body is soft as it presses back into mine, her ass curvy against my thigh.
I could absolutely see myself going home with this woman tonight.
Blow off steam.
Have fun.
Make a nice memory before I leave for Spain.
“So I’ll leave the chicken for the birds.” She’s not struggling to get out of my grasp, and her voice is high-pitched and unsteady.
Attraction?
Or fear of crows or ravens?
Shit. I don’t know what she’s feeling any more than I know what kind of bird that was.
“I’ll get it away from the door,” I say.
I don’t let go.
She doesn’t pull away.
“Shoo, shoo,” Brydie says. “You’ll get your food, but you have to wait three minutes. Didn’t your mother teach you any bird manners?”
The bird screams at her.
Okay. Time to let go.
Ziggy’s here all night.
I’m here all night.
I’ll get a chance to talk to her again without the danger of bird attacks.
Honey and vanilla. There’s definitely a subtle vanilla scent in her hair too. But you have to breathe deep to notice it.
She straightens.
I drop my grip on her. “In you go.”
“We’ve got the chicken,” Brydie says. “Oh, good, none of these bottles broke.”
Ziggy tucks a stray wisp of hair behind her ear. “Thank you,” she says to Brydie without looking at me.
“Of course, sweetheart. You go in and get ready. We’re right behind you.”
Ziggy beelines for the door, head down.
“She’s a really sweet girl,” Brydie says to me after I toss the chicken over the back fence and into a weedy area for the birds. “Such a sad situation that brought her home.”
I almost ask, but I don’t.
Not my business.
Not whensad situationsays everything I need to know.
Ziggy Barnes comes with complications.
