Page 25 of Out on a Limb
Julia’s serious expression intensified. “I think we have different opinions on what’s important.”
“Paying the taxes and electric and keeping us financially afloat are at the top of the list.” I pulled a drumstick from the bucket and took a bite, talking around it as I chewed since my days of trying to impress Andrew were over. “He might not be here a lot, but Alan’s still doing all of that.”
“Are you sure?” Andrew set a bottle of water in front of me.
I picked it up and tried to crank the cap off, but between the biscuit and the chicken, my fingers were too greasy to be useful. “Am I sure of what?”
Andrew took the water from me and cracked the seal on the plastic lid before passing it back. “Are you sure Alan’s doing everything he’s supposed to be doing?”
I held the icy bottle with both hands. The chill seemed to work its way up my arms and down my spine. “Of course he’s doing everything he’s supposed to be doing.”
Why wouldn’t he be doing what he was supposed to be doing? He’d been my granddad’s right-hand man for years, no way would he just abandon his responsibilities.
Right?
“I guess we’re fine then.” Andrew tipped his head at the water I held. “Drink some of that so you don’t pass out later.”
I rolled my eyes at him but tipped back the bottle anyway. “Funny.”
Now Andrew looked just as serious as Julia. “That wasn’t a joke.”
“That’s good because it wasn’t funny.” I bit off another chunk of chicken.
“You just said it was.” Andrew shook his head. “Too late to change your mind now.”
I started to argue back, needing an outlet for the frustration that constantly seemed to be accumulating in my brain.
Unfortunately, I forgot about the wad of partially-chewed chicken accumulating in my mouth, so instead of pointing out the sarcasm he’d so clearly missed, I shot a ball of chicken cud right at him, watching in horror as the masticated missile launched across the table, hit his shoulder and dropped to the floor.
Normally that would have been the most traumatizing part of the slow-motion scenario.
Not today.
Because the second it hit the cement, Phillip darted for it, snapping it up before I could even think about stopping him.
Then I swear to God he licked his lips.
Beak.
Whatever it was.
He looked up at me, craning his neck as his head twisted from side to side as he walked my way.
Holy shit. My cock was a cannibal.
Andrew didn’t look the least bit surprised as he shoved in a bite of mashed potatoes. “Told you they’d eat anything.”
Chapter Six
Andrew
I LOOKED UP from where I was working for the hundredth time since lunch.
Sure enough, the movement I caught in the corner of my eye was Collette.
Again.
Make that Collette and her chicken.
