With only one exception, many moons ago, nobody has ever cared enough to take an interest in mysilly little hobby.
Never.
If my smile were any wider, Reed could drive his motorcycle into my mouth. I can’t string together enough words to make a sentence—neither a real one nor a nonsense one.
“Well?” His obnoxiously sexy dimples pop on both sides. “Can you teach me how to be a birdwatching enthusiast?”
Nobody has ever spoken those words to me. Or possibly to anyone.
My eyelashes must resemble a hummingbird’s wings, considering how fast they’re fluttering. His sincerity leaves me stupefied and tongue-tied. “Um. Yes. Okay. I just. Uh. Well. This is. Huh.”
“I’ve always adored your eloquence.”
“I didn’t expect you to ask that. Nobody has ever cared enough to—” I bite my tongue mid-sentence to avoid dwelling on negativity. “Anyhow, I’d be thrilled to teach you.”
“Let’s start with the basics. There’s no single method to spot birds. For me, I typically use my ears, then my eyes, and then I’ll get the binoculars out.”
“Makes sense. Once we spot a bird, what do we do next?”
In contemplation, I nibble at my lip. “Although that seems like a simple question, the answer is complex.”
We stop walking at the same time, perfectly in sync.
As I gather my thoughts, I lean against the railing and let my gaze fall to the greenery. Reed copies my posture, resting his forearms atop the railing.
“I suppose your question gets to the heart of birding. Everyone does it for different reasons. Some people want to be more present in nature. Some do it for the photography aspect. Others are simply bird lovers and enjoy being outdoors, and thisis a fun activity that combines those things. Then there are those who do it simply to tick lifers off their life list. Like it’s a contest. And?—”
“What’s a life list and a lifer?”
“Oh, sorry.” I gently palm my forehead. “Like most niche hobbies, birding has its own language. My bad.”
“You’re easily forgiven.”
If only that could be true for all my crimes.
With how honey-coated his voice sounds, I can’t resist looking his way. His eyes burn into me with affection I don’t deserve, so I face the trees. It’s safer that way.
“Alife listis exactly what the name implies. It’s a list of all the birds you’ve identified during your lifetime. The very first time you spot a particular species, it’s called alifer. Some people keep their lists electronically, some use apps, and others have journals. Without a life list, you’re more of a bird watcher than a birder.”
“I assume you have a life list.”
My smile spreads impossibly wider. “Naturally.”
“What type of birder are you?”
“I have a life list of just shy of 900 bird species. And I keep it in an actual journal.”
It’s a tad dusty these days.
He shifts his body so he’s facing me instead of nature, which seems like a poor decision on his part. “That doesn’t sound like the Lila Kent I know.”
My neck cricks as I shoot him some serious side-eye. “Excuse me?”
He clicks his tongue, drawing my attention to his mouth, and looking is a poor decision onmypart. I do it anyway.
“You’re not that type of person, cookie. You don’t have a competitive bone in your...?body.”
His velvety emphasis on that word steals my focus away from his lips. His eyes lick up and down my frame, which I dutifully ignore. If I acknowledge his hungry expression, I’ll never get out of this date with my heart intact. It’s already in grave danger as it is.
