Page 7 of Honkers Under the Holly

Once we were settled in a spot on their deck area, I carefully let Sir Honksalot out of the bag. He looked around with interest, seemingly unfazed by the feline presence inside the cafe.

“So,” I said, trying to keep my voice casual, like this was just business. Because if I didn’t I was going to do something impulsive, like kiss him again. “You mentioned you might have a solution to my pet problem?”

Mac nodded, leaning in conspiratorially. “Okay, hear me out. Remember Tommy, my slightly inebriated client from Oktoberfest?”

I nodded. “Of course. But I’m not sure I like where I think you’re going with this.”

“I swear he’s actually a good guy. He’s just kind of let the money go to his head. He’s in a little of a wild child phase.” He broke off a bit of one of the cookies and dropped it for Honksy. The goose hustle toward the treat. But the moment he sniffed at it, he turned up his nose at it. “Well, I convinced him he needs to improve his image if he wants to stay with the team. And I hadthis crazy idea—what if he became the proud owner of a slightly quirky pet goose?”

My eyes widened. “You mean Sir Honksalot?”

“Exactly,” Mac grinned. “Plus, we’d set Tommy up with a shiny new InstaSnap account to document his adventures with his unique pet, and get him to hire a professional pet wrangler to help him. It could be great PR for him and a home for loosey goosy here.”

I took a cookie from the plate and took a bite mostly to hide the stupid happy smile breaking out on my face. He’d thought of everything, and I didn’t think it was because he was a huge goose lover. “That’s... actually kind of brilliant. And weirdly coincidental. My agent just told me I need to start an InstaSnap account too.”

Mac’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? That’s perfect. We could collaborate on content. The sexy plus-size model and the football player, united by their love for a dancing goose. It’s social media gold.”

Tommy, the beer-guzzling football player was not the one I wanted to be united in love with. Not... that I was in love. Lust, though? Yes, absolutely.

As excited as I was about the idea, a small worry nagged at me. “But what about Sir Honksalot? Is Tommy ready for full-time pet ownership, even with a pet wrangler?”

Mac’s smile faltered slightly. “That’s the thing. I’m not entirely sure he is. I was hoping maybe we could work out some kind of... joint custody?”

The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. “Joint custody? You mean, between you and me?”

Mac’s cheeks reddened slightly. “Well, no. But I’d be, uh, the custody liaison, if you’re okay with that. And, you know, it would give us a reason to keep seeing each other regularly.”

Oh, we didn’t need a reason beyond this delicious attraction between us, but the fact that he wanted one, had manufactured this whole scenario, gave me all the warm tinglies in my belly.

“I’d like that,” I said softly. Then, just to play along, I added, “For Sir Honksalot’s sake, of course.”

“Of course,” Mac agreed, a twinkle in his eye.

Our new shared custody goose must have been very excited about this arrangement because he flapped his wings and jumped right up on my back. Which sent me tumbling forward, knocking over the cookies, our drinks, the table, and everything.

But that dang bird wasn’t done. When Mac and I stood trying to avoid the destruction, Sir Honksalot came at Mac, and knocked him right into me. We went down, in a tangle of limbs, me right on my ass, and Mac... well, he ended up face first in my lap.

Then, as if nothing happened, Sir Honksalot waddled over to the cookie crumbs and started pecking at them, like they were a reward for a job well done.

Mac slowly raised his head, his eyes following the line of my exposed thigh. He eventually ran out of leg and managed to look up at me. The way his eyes twinkled at me had my panties immediately on fire.

He licked his lips and grinned up at me. “Well, wasn’t that a wild ride?”

Why did I have a feeling that was less of a question and more of a promise? I sure hoped so.

EVERYONE LOVES AN UNDERGOOSE STORY

I’d seen some bizarre contract negotiations in my day—okay, that’s a lie. Outside of law school, I’d seen exactly two contract negotiations. The first when I signed Tommy to SMTM Sports Management two and a half years ago, and the second when I got him signed to the Bandits. But this definitely topped that.

My tiny home office, usually reserved for obsessively refreshing my email inbox hoping for potential client inquiries, now hosted a very different kind of meeting. Tommy sprawled across my secondhand leather couch, still in his L.A. Bandits practice gear, while Sara Jayne perched on my desk chair. Sir Honksalot waddled between us, systematically destroying my last remaining business cards.

“So let me get this straight,” Tommy said, his attention torn between scrolling on his phone and Sir Honksalot. “You want me to share custody of a pet goose? Like, an actual goose?”

“Sir Honksalot isn’t just any goose,” Sara Jayne replied, her voice carrying that warmth that was both sweet, caring, and turned me the fuck on. “He’s a rescue with special needs. And right now, those needs include a yard, which you have, and I don’t.”

I cleared my throat, switching into what I liked to call my agent voice. “This is an opportunity for some image rehabilitation, Tommy. You need some good press before the upcoming contract negotiations. That unfortunate karaoke incident at The Tipsy Pickle didn’t help.”

Tommy winced. We all winced. Even Sir Honksalot seemed to shudder at the inherent awfulness of Tommy’s tone-deaf rendition of Happy Birthday—to himself—while standing on the bar in nothing but his practice shorts, one sock, and a half dressed ball bunny who he clearly couldn’t care less about.

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