CHAPTER 42
A rooster. I thought he’d find it funny. We could laugh about it, in Cyndi Kirkland’s ridiculous rooster house, and make amends. Get our friendship off on a better foot, one that didn’t involve insults and barbs and impromptu kisses. I woke up that morning determined to get over my insecurity in regards to kissing and to get on the right side of the asshole that was Cole Masten. I needed this money, I needed this role, and if I happen to suck at kissing, so be it. A present was the most obvious solution to the problem. I would have made him something to eat, but he had curled his lip at my apple cobbler so I had to think outside the box. And when I thought of a rooster, it seemed perfect. Funny, light-hearted, a country gift for a city boy. I didn’t expect the man to fall backward like I’d put a bomb on his doorstep. Didn’t expect him to glare at me like he was, right then, my hands gently wrapped around his new pet.
“Are you crazy?” he gasped, pushing to his feet and brushing himself off. Not much to brush off. Cyndi Kirkland’s floors were cleaner than a Holiday Inn room on inspection day. “Literally, I need to know this, for the future of the movie. Are you insane?”
The baby chick clucked nervously in my palms, and I slid him back a few steps, closer to the protection of my chest. Against my fingers, his heart beat a rapid patter.
“Well?” he demanded, and I blinked.
“That’s a serious question?” I responded. “I thought you were just asking it to be a smart ass.”
“No. It’s a serious question. What normal person brings someone a fucking bird as a housewarming present?” He gestured to the baby chick, and I had the ridiculous urge to cover up its tiny ears to protect it against the swearing. I should have. Just to see the look on Cole’s face.
“I am not insane,” I responded. “And it’s not a baby bird. It’s a baby rooster.” I nodded in the general direction of Cyndi Kirkland’s decoration insanity. “I thought it’d be funny.”
“Oh, it’s hilarious.” He raised his hands to his head and turned away. “This whole thing is fucking hilarious. I’m gonna have a nervous breakdown over how fucking hilarious this is. What am I supposed to do with that? Eat him?”
I started back, bringing the tiny body to my chest. “No! He’s a pet!”
“I—” He pointed to me, then to the baby chick. “I can’t have a pet. I don’t have anywhere to keep a fucking rooster, Summer.”
“Would you please stop cussing? It’s so… unnecessary.”
The man’s eyes widened before rolling upward, and I turned away before I set down my heartfelt gift and meat-cleavered this man to pieces. I carefully cradled the chick against my chest, his little beak pecking at my shirt, and opened the pantry, then the kitchen cabinets, looking for different items, Cole’s footsteps loud as he walked behind me and stopped.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
I didn’t answer him. I found a large plastic bin in the back of the pantry, holding bags of dog kibble. I unloaded the bags and gently put the chick in it. Then I left it there, on the floor in the pantry, moving to the back door and opening it.
“Don’t leave that thing here!” Cole shouted after me, panic edging the sides of his words.
“Chill,” I grumbled, moving to the edge of the lawn and yanking at some taller pieces of grass, gathering several handfuls before I trotted back inside, dropping the grass in with the chick.
“I mean it,” Cole rambled, following me as I opened cabinets, finding a small bowl, then a lamp from the living room. “I can’t have a pet. I’m too busy. And I don’t know a damn thing about chickens.”
“It’s a rooster,” I repeated. “Or, well, he will be when he grows up. Fred sexed him for me. That’s why he has those little spikes on the top of his head.” I used the sink, filling the bowl half full of water and setting it in the corner of the plastic bin. Plugging in the lamp, I put it on the floor, next to opposite end. “You’ll need newspaper to line the bottom. The lamp is for heat. Baby chickens need a lot of warmth. Keep it on, even at night.”
“Summer!” His hands closed around my shoulders, and he turned me around, looking down at me, his face dark, our bodies close in the small space. “You are taking that thing with you.”
“No,” I said firmly, reaching down and pulling off his hand. “I’m not. It’s a gift, and you don’t refuse gifts. It’s rude.”
I moved around him, snagging my towel from the floor, and walked to the door, glancing back as I opened it to find Cole, his hands on the edge of the plastic container, looking helplessly from me to it, the pose distractingly sexual given his lack of shirt.
“Newspaper. Find some and line the bottom. Oh, and Cole?” I smiled sweetly, and he looked at me. “You’re welcome. And welcome to Quincy.”
I shut the door and skipped down the back steps, moving through the yard and out the gate before he had a chance to respond.
Okay, maybe mending fences had been my goal. Or maybe, I just wanted to give the man a jab back. Kissing might not be my forte, but sparring… I could do that just fine.