She’s weird in all the best ways.
“Are you sure? I acted like a crazy person! I don’t know why I did that.”
“It wouldn’t have anything to do with the other night, would it?”
Her fork clatters against her plate, sending bits of waffle flying toward the window. Kate’s eyes go wide as she chokes on her bite. She pounds the center of her chest in a poor attempt to suppress the choking. The struggle escalates when she starts gasping for air, and her face turns beet red. I hand her a glass of water, but her eyes avoid mine as she chugs. Once the water is drained, she fans herself and nervously bites her lip, embarrassment now the reason she’s as red as a tomato.
She lets out a soft, defeated breath, giving in. A defeated,you-got-mesigh that finally gives me my answer. Itisabout the other night.
“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” I reassure her.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks in a whisper, still not meeting my eyes.
“Only if you want to.” Sipping my coffee, I refuse to smile back at the eye roll she gives me. “No pressure here, just an awkward mistletoe moment. Those tend to happen at parties, ya know.”
Leaning over across the table, she fixes her dark eyes on me, as if she’s looking into my brain for information. “We almost kissed, though.” She whispers it like she’s in a confessional, and she’s admitting her deepest, darkest offense.
“But we didn’t,” I whisper back dramatically. “Did you want me to kiss you?” If she says yes, I might jump across this table.
I have sat on the sidelines, witnessing the most perfect girl be just out of arm's reach, patiently waiting for the moment she decides to give dating a go again so I could shoot my shot. When her chump of an ex broke her heart, I did the respectable thing and waited. That plan failed when she decided to “swear off men” and announced “all men who tried dating her after a three-year relationship were impatient pigs.” Clearly, I didn’t want tobe labeled as a pig in her mind, so I bided my time. I endured the friend zone in some of the most humiliating ways, attending a Taylor Swift concert being the worst. I went from having zero chickens to having thirty-six chickens because of this dang woman. I went from enjoying medium-rare steak three times a week to only eating steak on Thursdays because that apparently makes sense to her. I never even questioned her reasoning.
I’ve worked on myself and gone to therapy to work on myissues, finally coming to the conclusion that maybe being in a relationship isn’t the worst possible thing that could happen to me.
And it all started with Kate Stanley.
Seems pathetic, doesn’t it? That a woman like Kate, so quirky and opinionated, can sway a guy like me. But damn if she isn’t one of the most irritatingly motivating people I have ever met. I’d probably be holed up like a hermit, struggling with my demons until I keeled over in my recliner at the age of eighty-seven, if she hadn’t pestered me so much. Sure, her constant pushing can be a tad overbearing—grating your nerves, even—but you get used to it.
She still hasn’t answered my question. “Well? Did you?”
“What? No!” My words fluster her even more as she waves her fork in the air and gives me a nonchalantpftsound that is less than convincing. “I don’t— Didyou?” she stutters then points her fork at me accusingly.A tad jittery about this, Kate.
I give her a wink, and I swear I see her hold her breath. “Maybe.”
A mixture of noises and breaths sputter out of her like a backfiring engine. “I didn’t …” Her words hang in the air, trailing off as she releases a shaky breath.
Didn’t what?
She anxiously gnaws on her bottom lip, lingering on a potentialI didn’t want to kiss you.The thought of her rejectingme, right here in the middle of Wafflin’, sends warning signals blaring in my head. Even when she has the power to gut me from the inside out, I can’t look away from her. A pitiful and borderline desperate feeling of hope pulses in my chest.
As if some higher power out there knows I need saving, a ping on my phone grabs my attention. Checking it, I let out a groan. “Dammit.”
“What’s wrong?” Kate asks, the awkward tension in the air floating away as she leans across to eye my phone.
I rub my temple at the nuisance of a companion I have waiting for me at home. I need to get rid of this damn chicken. Disgruntled, I say, “Nugget got out again.”
Chapter eight
Malcolm
“Could you for oncebehave like a normal chicken?” I grumble, more to myself because this thing definitely doesn’t understand me, as I scoop Nugget out of the front seat and shove her under my arm.
Fine, I don’t shove her. I could never.
As pesky and frustrating as she can be, I have to admit that I have a soft spot for her in my heart. Can’t believe I’ve had her for five years. Who would’ve thought chickens would live so long?
Nugget chirps up at me, as if to say she will live forever, as we head inside to the hardware store.
“Aye, glad to hear you got that thing contained!” Uncle Jerry hollers at me from the checkout counter. The guy retired from this place two years ago, but he can’t stay away.
