A rosy flush spreads across her cheeks. “Really?”
I rest my forehead against hers, briefly closing my eyes as I breathe in her sweet scent. “That was by far the best damn kiss I’ve ever had.”
If I thought I’d royally fucked up our friendship before, I’m certain of it now. Brief conversations with her at the feedstore and stolen glimpses when she’s with her friends won’t cut it anymore. Now that I’ve had her lips on mine and felt how hot the chemistry burns between us, I’m going to need that every damn day for as long as she’ll have me. Hell, for as long as we both shall live would work too—but I’m getting ahead of myself. First, I have to help Birdie see that we belong together and no one will ever be capable of loving her the way I could if she’d let me.
“I better go to bed soon,” she whispers against my lips. “Tomorrow’s going to be a busy day.”
I nod, reluctantly releasing my hold on her face. As much as I hate to let her go, I agree she deserves a good night’s rest.
She stands up, and I follow her across the porch.
“I’ll wait here until you’re inside.”
Birdie laughs softly as she opens the door and steps through, glancing back with a grin. “Satisfied?”
“Knowing you’re safe in your house? Absolutely.”
“Good night,” she murmurs, her gaze glued to mine as she shuts the door behind her.
I stay where I am, ears straining, and let out a sigh when the click of the deadbolt never comes.
“Birdie,” I call out.
“Hmm?” she answers almost instantly.
“I’m not leaving until you lock the door.”
“Oh, right. I forgot.” Her voice goes up an octave, followed by the sound of the locking mechanism.
When her footsteps fade from the entryway, I take it as my cue to leave. The only thing that eases the sting of walking away is the promise of more time with her later to explore our undeniable chemistry.
A sharp cluck startles me from my thoughts, and I spin around to see a chicken on the porch steps, staring at me. Could this be the infamous Nugget?
I crouch to her level. “You shouldn’t be wandering around at night, little lady. You could become someone’s midnight snack.”
Considering all the creatures Birdie likely has roaming her property, I’m guessing at least one would see Nugget as a tasty treat, and I’d rather not have to explain to Birdie what happened if she goes missing tonight. The least I can do is get her to bed safely.
I extend my hand, letting out a soft whistle to coax Nugget over, but she refuses, pacing back and forth on the step, letting out a disgruntled cluck and fluffing her feathers as she sizes me up like she’s debating if she can take me on.
I reach out to scoop her up, but at the last second, she flaps her wings and sails over my shoulder. Glancing back, I see her waddling toward the house and disappearing through the doggy door. I should’ve figured Birdie would let her sleep inside. I’ll give credit where it’s due—Nugget is gutsy, and I might’ve underestimated how she’d fare against a prowling fox or sneaky raccoon.
I shake my head, chuckling. “Good night, little lady,” I call out after her as I head down the porch steps.
One thing is certain: life with Birdie is unpredictable, and I wouldn’t trade a single chaotic second.
Flirting 101
The smell of worn leather and cedar clings to me as I go about my day. I went straight to bed when Walker dropped me off, not ready to wash away his scent. I’m blaming it on my hormones going haywire and him being a thirst trap in Wranglers and cowboy boots, and definitely not on the fact that my lips are still tingling from our first kiss.
I’m not ready to confront those complicated feelings, so I’m keeping them under lock and key—happy to live in my delusional world, choosing to believe he’s just showing me the ropes of dating, and that there’s no way I’m developing any romantic attachments. The reality is, this can’t mean anything more, or our entire arrangement goes up in flames, and our fragile balance will collapse.
It’s still early, but I couldn’t sleep. I’ve been up since sunrise, and after feeding the animals, I came to the kitchen to grab some coffee so I can return to being a semi-functioning human.
I take a sip of the oat milk latte I just made and scrunch my nose when the flavor lands on my tongue wrong. Even after adding an extra dash of cinnamon, it still isn’t right. Ever since Walker made me one, I haven’t found anything that compares.
It has me wondering how his morning is going. He’s supposed to be working on the ranch today. Maybe I should check in—he did suggest I do just that. Before I can overanalyze my decision, I send him a message. After all, I agreed to text him an arguably unnecessary amount, and I can’t very well go back on my word.
Birdie: Thanks for taking me to the drive-in.
