“Who’s my good girls?” Flynn asked.
Not them,I wanted to reply.
“Here.” He handed me the bowl of peas. “Put some in your hand and hold them out to them.”
“Um.” This was areally badidea. The type of idea that resulted in a trip to the accident and emergency department to have a limb reattached. Flynn scooped some out and put them in my hand. I eyeballed the terrible two while they seemed to be in some sort of silent mental conversation with each other. They were probably plotting my demise while I stood here like an idiot holding a handful of garden peas with a nervous smile.
I reluctantly held my hand out, pursing my lips together and holding my breath.
“Good girls,” Flynn cooed, stroking their heads. “This is Charlotte, she’s our friend.”
I darted him a quick look because his statement was untrue. I doubted we would ever be friends. These white feathered fiends were no angels, they were the bullies of the duckpond.
The one closest to me stretched her long neck toward me and everything inside me braced for impact. The beak nibbled at me, tickled the palm of my hand, as it gobbled the peas from my outstretched hand. The other unruly bird pushed the first away to try and grab her share of the treats.
“Relax,” Flynn said, coming to stand behind me, his arms wrapping around my waist and his hands stabilising mine. “Animals can sense fear. You need to show them that you are not a threat to them.”
Considering they had chased my ass and attacked me, I was sure they already knew that. He continued to put peas into my hand until they were all done.
“See?” Flynn said against my ear. “You’re friends now. Good girl, Matilda.” He patted one on the head.
“How do you tell them apart?” I queried.
“Matilda is slightly bigger and has this little mark on her beak. Mavis tends to be less dominant and has these darker feathers on the left side of her head. She lays smaller eggs, as well.”
My eyebrows shot up. It never occurred to me that they would lay eggs.
“Do you have any other vicious animals I should watch out for?” I asked.
His laugh vibrated down my back and his breath fanned my cheek. “No. I have a total of two pets, and here they are. Their enclosure is solar-based and opens in the morning and closes at night to keep them safe from foxes. When I’m away, their food and water automatically fills their dishes.”
“I never took you as the domesticated type,” I quipped.
He shrugged behind me. “I guess we never really grow out of our childhoods,” he replied. “I remember Gran’s chasing the mailman because she hated him. Gertie was a law onto herself. She used to herd the ducks up like a sheepdog and sit and watch over them.”
Since they determined I no longer had treats, they turned and wandered off. It sounded like they were muttering under their breath at me.
“I don’t think they like me,” I said, leaning into Flynn’s strength.
“Sure, they do,” he replied, his arms tightening around my waist. “They’re not used to strangers here, it’s normally only me.”
“No mailmen to chase?”
He chuckled. “No. All my mail is sent to my apartment in London. I have a letterbox at the end of the lane for the junk mail. They basically roam about here and do what they want. Sometimes when I’m here, they wander into the house and create mischief.”
I groaned. “I’ll have to lock Pixie up again. She loves feathered toys.”
Flynn turned us in the direction to walk indoors. “I think the girls can hold their own. Those wings are powerful and their nip is really fucking sore. Pixie might have to take out a restraining order.”
He was still in his bare feet since he’d run out when he heard my scream. He released me to go and check on the food he put in the oven earlier, as he seemed to only have what was frozen in his home. The gun was in the back of his training bottoms.
“Are we going to talk about the gun?” I asked.
“Do we need to talk about it?” Flynn queried. “I didn’t bring one to your house and you were vulnerable last night.”
“The body count suggests otherwise,” I said with a sigh.
He came to stand in front of me, one hand lifting my head so he could stare into my eyes, his other on my waist. “I’m not a good man, Charlotte, I’ve never claimed to be. Those men and whoever is behind sending them crossed a line last night. We all want the faster car, we all crave that adrenaline rush of winning. What we all don’t do is send hired guns after an innocent female who has no means to protect herself.”