Page 17 of Mother Clucker

When I reached for it, he pulled it back, “You ready to start telling that story about the lovely rooster lady?”

I snatched the bottle from his hand. “Yeah. But I’m not sure it’s quite as exciting as you assume.”

Compared to some of our college times, my bumping into Heather twice today, in public, and not even touching her, made for a tame tale.

“Let me be the judge of that. Talk.”

I told the story—what there was of it—starting with the brief but contentious encounter with Heather at the gas station and ending with our second meeting at the shelter where I’d acquired my new feathered friend Rowdy.

“You taking that bird back to Texas with you?” Drew asked.

That question made me realize I hadn’t thought that far ahead. Now that I had, I realized I really couldn’t. It wasn’t just that I didn’t want to take the nearly twelve-hour trip with a rooster in my passenger seat.

It was as much because I’d planned on knocking off a couple more business meetings on the way.

Having Rowdy in tow would royally fuck that up.

“Would you be able to keep taking care of him for me when I go back home?”

“Sure, I can. When you think that’s gonna be? You leaving.”

“Anxious to get rid of me?” I shot him a look as I leaned against the table and took a sip of cold beer.

Drew faced me, his back against the kitchen counter by the big picture window that looked out onto the drive. “Not at all. I love having you here. Makes me feel like we’re back in our college days. The guest room is yours for as long as you want.”

Motion on the driveway caught my attention. A tiny hybrid white car I’d recognize a mile away pulled up the driveway and skidded to a stop next to my truck.

“That’s good to know. Because I might want to stay a good little while,” I said, tracking Heather as she got out and slammed the door so hard the little car rocked.

“Don’t want to leave my scintillating company?” Drew asked, as much of a sarcastic smart ass as he’d ever been.

“More hers.” I tipped my chin toward the window.

Drew pushed off the counter and turned to look. “Let me guess. That’s your chicken momma?”

I chuckled. “It sure is. I hope it’s okay that I texted her your address.”

“Sure thing. Being a fly on the wall for this visit might be the most fun I’ve had in ages,” he said as he continued to watch Heather stalk toward the house. “Haven’t seen you this intrigued with a woman since Shawna junior year.”

Shawna had had some enticing attributes. Mainly she was ready and willing and equipped with a body to make a man stand up and take notice. The problem was, she was a little too ready and willing with too many guys.

I liked to stake a claim when I was with a woman. No man liked trespassers on his territory. The only question was, when it came to Heather, did I want my territory to expand all the way to California when home was in Texas?

She stormed toward the house looking fighting mad.

Drew shook his head. “Woo-wee. She’s looking as angry as a wet hen.”

“Yup.” And it was sexy as hell. I watched her getting closer. “I might be staying a real long while, since you said it’s okay.”

“That’s fine.” Drew rubbed his hands together. “Oh yeah. This is going to be better than Bachelor in Paradise.”

I shot him a glare from beneath my lowered brows. “If I were you I’d never utter that sentence to another living soul.”

But yeah, from what little I knew about that show, the beautiful hot-headed Heather could star in it.

She stomped so hard she raised a cloud of dust around her. If she had a gun belt slung around those shapely hips of hers, this could be a scene out of an old western the way she approached, narrow-eyed, itching for a fight.

Imagine what kind of passion she’d bring to bed if she showed this much from being mad at me, a stranger to her.

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