Page 17 of Courage, Dear Heart

“Is that sign language?”

Jillian places a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Yes. Jamie’s daycare had an ASL program. They use it with babies because infants can communicate with sign language before they can speak. Simple words like water, milk, hungry. Jamie really took to it, and I kept it up at home too.” Her eyes find me. “Never imagined it . . .”

She doesn’t need to finish the sentence. Silence falls and Daisy picks this moment to nibble on my earlobe.

I flinch. “Is she going to bite me?”

Jillian’s eyes widen. “Whoa, she really likes you. And no, I don’t think she’ll bite you.”

I freeze, and the bird continues to explore my ear. “You don’t think she’ll bite me or you know she won’t bite me?”

Jillian comes from behind the counter and puts her wrist next to my shoulder. “Come on, Daisy. Come with me.”

The bird moves behind my neck, her claws digging into my suit collar. Jillian walks around me, but Daisy is now holding on for dear life and squawking.

Death by parrot was not on my agenda today. “What do I do?”

“Can you go lowerso I can grab her?”

I go down on one knee, and Jillian gets a hold of Daisy, but her claws are firmly stuck on my collar.

The squawking gets louder.“No. Bad. Bad. No. No.”The bird protests.

“Daisy, stop that right now.” Jillian’s fingers brush against the back of my neck when she tries to pry Daisy’s death grip from the fabric, and a rush of heat travels down my spine and settles in my groin. I stay on one knee and pray for the blood to leave my nether region and climb up to my brain so I can formulate some kind of coherent thought.

Jillian manages to free me from the bird attack and is now standing in front of me, both hands wrapped around Daisy, who I swear is smiling at me while I try to think of anything but my dick’s untimely reaction.

The bell above the front door chimes. And a gasp follows. Her employee is back and both hands cover her mouth. What was her name again? Angela?

Angela rushes in. “Oh my God. Congratulations. I had no idea you were dating.”

“What?” Jillian and I say at the same time.

Angela points at me, still on one knee, and then looks at Jillian’s hands. She frowns.

“No, no, no.” Jillian shows Angela the parrot, her face coloring a pretty pink. “It was Daisy. She attached herself to the back of his shirt and I had to pry her off. I couldn’t quite reach.”

Jamie, eyebrows scrunched, gets between me and his mother and pushes at my shoulder in a clear indication for me to get up. Thankfully, my brain has its full supply of oxygenated blood now and I get up without embarrassing myself.

“Oh,” Angela says, sounding relieved. “I forgot my air buds. Good thing I was next door grabbing a bite to eat. No way I can go to the gym without them.” She walks behind the counter and grabs the small white case. Her eyes fixed on me with an inviting smile the entire time.

Jillian puts Daisy on a perch and points at her. “Stay, you fresh girl. If you don’t behave, you won’t get any more biscuits.”

The bird squawks.“Sorry not sorry.”

I blink. “It’s like she understands what you’re saying.”

Jillian looks at the bird with tenderness. “I’m not sure she understands the actual words, but parrots are very good at reading social cues and using words they’ve learned in the right context.”

“Maybe I—” The chime of the doorbell cuts off my next words, and I turn to see who’s coming in now.

A man strides through the doorway, all confidence and swagger. He’s tall and solidly built, with the kind of muscular frame that looks like it took hours in the gym—just to show off. His hair is slicked back, a little too perfect, and he wears a tight shirt that clings to his chest, emphasizing every line. His smile is wide, teeth a little too white, and his eyes are locked on Jillian with a look that feels more like ownership than admiration.

Instant dislike prickles along my spine. This guy has “asshole” written all over him. There’s something in the way he moves, as though he’s completely sure of himself—and expects everyone else to be as well. The way his gaze lingers on Jillian makes my fists clench at my sides.

Jillian shifts beside me, her posture going stiff, shoulders squared but tense like she’s preparing for battle. She pressesher lips together, and I catch the flash of annoyance in her eyes. It’s subtle, but it’s there. She glances away from him, almost as if hoping he won’t see her—but of course he does. He moves toward her with a swagger that sets my teeth on edge.

“Oh, hi, Brock,” Angela says as she walks past him and out the door.

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