Page 60 of Mother Clucker

“Well, well, well. I’m surprised to see you up and about so early.” Drew folded his arms over his chest, leaned back in the chair and continued his verbal onslaught. “I hope my television wasn’t so loud I disturbed you two last night. I was having trouble hearing the show.”

Trying to focus on not spilling the coffee as I splashed it into a mug, I mumbled, “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. At least one of us is having sex.”

And that was the statement of a true friend.

I turned and took my first bracing swallow of caffeine.

Feeling more human and in a much better mood than when I’d first stumbled into the room, I asked, “Want me to have Heather invite Lucy over when I’m back this weekend?”

Although the bigger question was why hadn’t Drew already invited her over himself? How long were Heather and I supposed to play wingmen for Drew when it came to Lucy?

Drew should have locked her down already on his own. They’d come home together from the bar. He was still sporting the fading greenish-yellow remains of one hell of a bruise on his throat, presumably from that night with Lucy. It seemed like a no brainer.

“No.” Drew pouted, staring down at the screen of his phone while scrolling with his thumb.

“All right.” I shook my head and headed toward the fridge to see what I could nab for breakfast before I hit the road. I could only do so much for Drew before the man had to help himself.

Right now I was going to get some sustenance so I could get moving. I needed to take care of business and get back here and quick. Especially now that I knew she and her flirty friend were hanging out at a bar with a bunch of Navy SEALs. That thought kicked me into high gear.

I grabbed a wire basket filled with fresh eggs. A quick omelet then I’d hit the road.

It was a hell of a drive from Drew’s place in Cerritos to John’s farm, but it was en route to El Paso so the trip made sense.

At least it had when I’d planned it. About hour three I was wondering if I should have just booked a damn flight.

Hour four I noticed my cell had died and realized I didn’t have my charger. I pictured it dangling from the wall of the guest room at Drew’s house.

By the time I turned off the exit for John’s farm, I was more than happy to be coming to the end of this part of the trip.

Stretching my back and my legs as I crawled out of the truck’s cab, I decided too much time behind a desk lately had made me too soft for these long road trips.

Back in my college days we’d drive anywhere, anytime, just for fun. Maybe that was the problem. This wasn’t for fun.

This leg of my trip was most definitely work. But that return trip at the end of the week—yeah, that was far more pleasure than business. Even if technically I was returning for the shelter event Strickland had sponsored I knew I was really heading back to California to see Heather.

Well, see her and do a few more things hopefully.

I leaned into the truck to grab my dead cell in hopes John would have a charger. Meanwhile, my mind spun as I imagined my reunion with Heather.

“Hey there, boss man.” John approached the truck.

I straightened up and grinned. “Oh, no. You’re the boss around here. I’ve got enough on my plate already.”

He chuckled. “I believe that.”

John finally reached where I stood and extended his hand. The man, who couldn’t be much older than me, had a pronounced limp. I noticed it had gotten worse since the last time I’d seen him.

“You still riding bulls?” I asked.

“Hell yeah. ”

I shook my head. “God bless you, better you than me.”

It took a special kind of crazy to get on the back of a ton of bucking bull.

Of course John would probably say it took a special kind of crazy for me to go from being a chicken farmer to taking over running Strickland, all while moving all the production to the US during the first month.

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