Page 91 of Axe Backwards
Even as I gave Henri a big thumbs-up, my head was spinning. This had to be a dream. The weirdest dream ever. I pinched myself again, certain I’d wake up this time. Wrong. While I stood in the wide driveway, still trying to find my bearings, Henri was unloading his truck. Pallets of wood, wire fencing, and roofing materials. It was a big ask, but I didn’t have a choice.
The humane society had called me two days ago. They had seized them from a hoarding situation, and the girls were in need of an immediate placement. They were healthy, vaccinated, and laying eggs. I couldn’t say no. I’d take all the free eggs I could get.
Noah was helping Tucker carry some of the larger pieces. He was wearing a very tight T-shirt that showed off every muscle. I had the strange urge to lick every one of them. The sight of him like this was borderline obscene.
In the space of a few days, I’d become a horny teenager all over again. After years of little sex that wasn’t any good, then not even a sexual urge, I had become insatiable. I didn’t want to scare him off by being a perv, but holy shit.
Noah, I’d discovered, was a sweet single dad in the streets and a domineering, bossy stallion in the sheets.
Stop it, Vic.Stop fantasizing about your fake boyfriend, real friend, maybe fling. Get focused. Be professional.
Alice sidled up beside me and looped her arms around me, interrupting my thoughts. “So. Forty chickens?”
“Thirty-eight.” I grimaced. “And technically, they’re hens.”
She shook her head, but her smile was bright. “You’re lucky I love you.”
“I’m ruining your weekend. I’m so sorry.”
“Not at all. We Gagnons love to help. I owe you about a million favors. Plus, I get to watch my husband build stuff.” She elbowed me and lifted her chin, gesturing to where the men were stacking wood.
“Also, there may be a condition—”
“Miss Vic!” Goldie Gagnon ran at me at full speed, cutoff overalls swishing and wild blond curls bouncing. She was a hurricane in eight-year-old girl form.
“Mom said you need our help and we have to follow directions and work together.” The words spilled out of her. “But.” She put her hands on her hips. “I wanna name a chicken.”
“Sure. Just one?” I assumed Goldie and Kali would claim naming rights to the entire flock.
“Mom said it would be rude to ask for more.”
Alice adjusted her daughter’s pigtails, tightening one, then the other. “Go help your dad.”
With that, Goldie was off, running at full speed again.
Alice surveyed the mountain of supplies. “We’re gonna do this.” Her eyes sparkled.
Her eagerness didn’t surprise me one bit. Not much got in Alice’s way.
She was a transplant, so I’d never met her until I came back to town. We hit it off quickly, and she persisted, badgering me into girls’ nights when I was drowning in work.
Her warmth and insistence on constantly bringing me food had done the trick.
Then she started volunteering at the food pantry.
And brought her kids.
And her husband.
Since Henri was part owner and the CEO of a timber company, he was a useful friend to have.
Hence all the free wood being used to build a mansion for my rescue chickens.
Noah approached, dusting his hands off on his jeans. He pulled me close and kissed my forehead. “Don’t stress. We got this.”
I was doing my best not to. But it was virtually impossible knowing that I had two days to build a coop with proper ventilation, laying boxes, perches, and a door I could access for egg collection and cleaning.
Not to mention a predator-proof fenced run with a roof.
