“The rat?” Brock asked, the landline phone resting between his ear and shoulder.
“No, remember that kid a while back who lost his hamster?”
Brock frowned. “His gerbil?”
“No, his hamster.” He held up the box. “I found him.”
Brock set the phone back in the cradle, and opened his mouth, then shut it again with a frown. “I’m pretty sure he said he lost his gerbil.”
“Same difference, look at this thing,” he said excitedly. That kid was going to be so happy.
He could hear chewing inside, so he opened the top carefully and peered inside. The little cream-colored hamster was even cuter with his cheeks all puffed out with food.
“Does he have something wrong with his teeth?” Brock asked.
“No, they store food in their cheek pouches. He probably has a nest somewhere in the cabin.”
Brock’s frown still existed and it annoyed Lance. “Just email that kid’s mom okay. He pulled his phone out and snapped a picture and sent it to Brock. “Show them the picture and ask for a good address. If they live close enough, I’ll drive it out. If not, we’ll ship it.”
“Ship a hamster?”
Lance shrugged and busied himself with a photoshoot of the little critter. He was pretty dang cute with his little hands and hislittle beady eyes and his little soft-looking ears. Birdie was going to freak out.
Brock sighed and poked around on his phone. “Sent, but I’m really pretty sure they said it was a gerbil and I’m also pretty sure I saw said gerbil running free and wild all over the woods and around the trashcans.
“I’m telling you, man, this thing is tame. I swear I remember them asking us to look for a hamster.”
“How do you know so much about hamsters and cheek pouches and nests?” he asked.
“I had one when I was a kid. I asked for a dog, but my mom wanted something easier to take care of. Its name was Billy, and it lived for ten years.”
“You had a ten-year-old hamster?” Brock asked skeptically.
“No, I think my mom just kept replacing them when they got old and died. She still won’t admit to it though.” He tried to pet the little brown critter, but it tried to bite him. He flinched back and then closed the lid to it. “I’m going to go show it to Birdie.”
“Is that the lady you’ve been palling around with?” Brock asked nonchalantly.
“Maybe.”
“You look good together. Have you told her about the wedding tomorrow?”
“A little,” he muttered setting the makeshift hamster cage on the check-in counter. He tapped the bell thoughtfully. “Can I be honest?”
“I prefer it,” Brock murmured, scribbling onto the old school registration paperwork Gran insisted Brock use.
“I haven’t thought about Beth or the wedding hardly at all since I started hanging out with Birdie. She’s fun and easy to be around.”
“And she’s a good distraction.”
“I guess. Feels a little bigger though.”
Brock jerked his attention up from what he was writing. His blue eyes narrowed. “Are you still going to the wedding tomorrow?”
“Hell no. I was never going.”
“Your sister said you had RSVP’d.”
“Nope. That’s a rumor. Why would I go?”
