Page 9 of Mother Clucker

Good thing the homeowner couldn’t see me—or him. Or could they?

Crud. I made a mental note to check for nanny cams as soon as I got him some water and maybe some cereal. That seemed like a good rooster breakfast.

In the kitchen, I pulled the champagne out of the fridge. It seemed a bit silly to enjoy a glass as I sat with my new buddy while he ate his breakfast of corn flakes and water but I needed a drink after my adventure.

I was about to pop the cork and pour myself a glass when the most deafening noise, amplified as it bounced off the marble, blasted out of the bathroom. It almost had me dropping the bottle.

Rowdy was doing what roosters did.

Crowing.

Inside the bathroom of a million-dollar Hermosa Beach condo that I didn’t own.

Uh, oh.

4

David

The tour was . . . enlightening.

Things were certainly different here. I didn’t know whether that was because this was a city compared to the rural outskirts of El Paso where I was from or because this was California—or both.

Either way it was certain I wasn’t in Texas anymore. Here, cats were caged instead of allowed to run free and catch mice the way nature intended. And, apparently, goats were pets, not livestock.

I figured that last part out when a guy about my own age walked up and gave Anna a big kiss on the mouth. But that wasn’t the strange part—unless this guy wasn’t her husband. Then that would have been odd but again—California.

What had me taking a second look from beneath the brim of my Stetson was the goat trailing behind the guy. On a leash. A hot pink, sparkly leash.

“David, I’d like to introduce you to my husband. This is Charlie Barker. Charlie, this is David Strickland. He’s making a very generous donation to the shelter.”

“Nice to meet ya,” he said in what sounded like a New Zealand accent. “And this is Anna’s and my first child, Trixie.”

As he introduced me to the leashed goat, I laughed. I shook his hand and eyed the goat, that seemed more interested in spinning in circles than meeting me—not that I could blame the little bugger.

“Not the kind of introduction I was expecting, especially not in this state,” I said.

“David is a native Texan, born and raised,” Anna explained to her husband.

I lifted a brow. I hadn’t told her that. Not that it was a secret, not at all, but it told me Anna had done her research on me.

No doubt she’d made sure she knew everything there was publicly to know about Strickland Feed before our meeting. And she still wanted my money.

Was that because only an idiot said no to a million dollars and a shed full of food? Or because she hadn’t lost faith in Strickland after the incident? Amazing since I still struggled with losing faith myself.

I’d have to mull that one over later.

Now, I had to be social—I hated being social and it was all I seemed to be doing lately. That was another problem I’d have to fix later.

I eyed the man who stood eye-to-eye with me. “I’ve been introduced to horses and dogs back in Texas. Even a bucking bull or two on occasion. Can’t say I’ve ever had the pleasure of officially meeting a man’s goat. But you California folk always do like to be a little different. Though, you’re not from around these parts, are you?”

“Yes and no.” He grinned. “But that’s a long story. So, Anna here give you the grand tour?”

“She did. It’s an impressive facility.” At least for this area where land cost more than gold and diamonds combined and was just as hard to come by.

“That’s all thanks to Anna’s dedication,” Charlie said, shooting his wife a look ripe with devotion—or possibly lust. Hell, probably both.

She shook her head. “No. It’s a group effort. The volunteers. The donors?—”

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