Fowl Play (Tuft Swallow)

16. Kodi

CHAPTER 16

Why? Why?

Oh God. The longer he stares at me, the more the cacophony of thoughts in my brain pounds at the inside of my skull. I’m too hungover for this question.

There are so many things I could say to answer that question, and none of them are the least bit appropriate. Hmm, let’s see. One, I feel guilty about my boss wanting me to dig up dirt on you in order to run you out of town, and I really would prefer if you never find out that’s why I called you in the first place. Two, Zeke Chopra is a fucking douchecanoe and I like to watch him suffer. Three, I have a grudge a mile long against the Tit Peepers for never giving me a scosche of privacy about anything in my life, and I think it would be fun to mess with them. Four…

I’m terrified that if he leaves town, my knee will never ever be back to normal.

Even now, my leg is aching after only one weekend of activity. I need another adjustment, and quite honestly? I want this man on speed dial so I can always call him when I need him. It might cost me my job if I ever admit it, but I need Brian Gosling more than I’ve ever needed any doctor in my life. He’s given me hope. I can’t let him leave town now, or in the next few weeks, once he realizes how ridiculous Tuft Swallow and our gossip columns and our town goats and our bird puns on every business front on Main Street are and makes the sensible decision to split.

I at least need him to get me through cornhole season. I might not get another chance to bring home a championship once he leaves.

And he’s bound to leave, I realize. I hate to admit it, as I’ve been stuck here since my parents moved us here when I was eight, but this town is not a place where people with a shot at success elsewhere stay. If my softball scholarship had actually panned out, I would have been on the first bus outta here as soon as I got my diploma. I mean, I suppose there are a few people that fell in love here and started a family, of course, but Brian’s way too smart to do that.

Besides, he’s already got someone he loves. So luckily for me, there’s no risk here of him falling for me.

But I can’t tell him any of that. He probably already thinks I’m crazy after I spontaneously kissed him out of nowhere. He basically said as much.

So this is where my A+ in those two semesters of improv are going to pay off.

“You’re my secret weapon, of course.”

I can see on his face that I’ve thrown him for a loop with that. Good. That gives me a moment to figure out what the fuck that means.

“Your secret weapon?” He asks, jaw agape. I do my best to look at him like he’s the weird one, here.

“Well, yeah. My ace in the hole.” And that’s when it clicks: the hole. As in, cornhole.

Brian and I dating is the perfect distraction for Zeke, which will throw him off his game, which will win us the championship. Done! Easy. Perfect explanation. I’m a genius!

It’s not at all because I want to kiss him again, like I’ve been thinking about doing since I first saw his washboard abs peek over the edge of my couch. It has nothing to do with the tantalizing-yet-tasteful tuft of chest hair peeking out from behind the pink frilly apron he’s wearing. No. Of course not. That’s silly. I’m Kodi Gander: I’m literally the least sexually interested girl in town. So what if I’m apparently a little hormonal this week? It’ll pass. It always has whenever I’ve had fleeting crushes in the past (to Lily’s annoyance). This will be an easy way to get them out of my system and keep the gossipers entertained while my knee gets better and I can put together a new life plan as a healthy, decorated champion.

Who knows? Maybe I can even find a softball league that’ll take a 24-year old rookie. Anything is possible.

Brian’s staring at me expectantly, and I realize that I haven’t been paying attention to his response while I formulated my grand plan. Oops. Noobie mistake. I’m better at improv than this.

I roll my eyes to save face. I take a guess that he’s probably still confused. “Nothing will distract Zeke Chopra more than his rival cornhole captain dating his ex. With you and me in league together, I’ve got this championship in the bag.”

He blinks. A few seconds pass, and I wonder if maybe I should have been paying more attention to his question after all.

Then he says, “Jesus Christ. You all are really fucking serious about cornhole, aren’t you?”

I stifle my sigh of relief with a laugh. “It’s on our town sign!” He shakes his head, and another thought crosses my mind. “Although, if you want to sweeten my side of the deal a little…”

He raises his eyebrows at me and leans in. I catch a whiff of his scent, mixed with the smell of bacon from the amazing breakfast sandwiches he made us this morning. My hangover must really be hitting me hard, because suddenly I want nothing more than to curl up against his chest and take a nap. My eyelids droop, and I can feel his arms calling to me.

“Yes…?”

I jerk a little, shoving my eyes back open and refocusing on Brian’s face. “You could join the team. Give those hungry Tit Peepers something to spy on so they don’t think we’re keeping anything from them. Imagine how much flirting we could do in a two-hour practice.”

Brian laughs in earnest now, tilting his head back as tears spring to his eyes. I straighten, frowning at him. What’s so funny about the idea of him joining the team?

He looks at me and catches his breath. “You can’t be serious. I’ve never even played. I’m probably awful.”

I shrug. “So? More for the rumor mill to chew on.”

He narrows his eyes. “I’m not sure I’m ready to go full Tuft Swallower just yet. I’ve got a business to get off the ground, after all.”

“It’s great networking,” I sing. “Plus, you’d be the first to know if someone gets injured at practice. Put those magic fingers to work, win over a client.”

“What, you’re gonna run them into the ground so I can build a clientele?” He snorts and gives me a mischievous look, his eyes dancing. “Who knew you were such a hustler?”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me yet, Brian Gosling.”

“Well, I guess I’m about to learn.”

I pump my fist in the air. “So that means you’re in? We’re doing this?”

He shakes his head, that airy laugh of his once more ringing through my living room. My stomach flip-flops as the full weight of this plan begins to sink in. Oh my God. I’m going to fake-date my new chiropractor to get back at all my enemies…wait ‘til Lily hears about this!

He locks eyes with me, and the flip-flopping intensifies. He sticks out his hand.

“Let Operation Win Back Zeke commence.”

I wince, but shake his hand.

“We’re gonna need to work on that title.”

“Miss Gander!”

My phone leaps from my hand and I jump about a foot off of my chair when Dr. Cratchet comes barreling around the corner. Shit! I’m going to be in so much trouble when he sees–

“I’ve heard the good news! It was all over this morning’s bird report.”

“Bird report, sir?” I attempt to covertly shove my phone down between my thigh and the office chair cushion, but he waves off the action with a smile plastered across his wrinkled face.

“Honestly, Miss Gander, you’ve already been caught. I assume you’re texting your new beau?” He winks at me.

I wasn’t. I was texting Lily. Or rather, Lily was texting me. Repeatedly. In all caps. The angry buzzes vibrate at regular intervals under my butt as she continues to berate me for not calling to give her every detail about my weekend. My excuse of nursing the hangover from hell apparently isn’t enough for her.

“My new beau, sir?”

Dr. Cratchet throws up his hands and gives an exasperated sigh before pulling over a chair and sitting across from me. The office is empty; it’s only 8:16 and the coffee pot is still hissing and spitting its inky lifeblood into the glass carafe. His first appointment isn’t until ten today, so he’s supposed to be filling out prior auths and updating charts.

Instead, he leans forward and places a cold and clammy hand on my knee. Ew.

“Kodi. May I call you Kodi?” He doesn’t wait for me to answer. “I must commend you. I’ll admit, I wasn’t sure you had it in you, but I’m nothing if not able to come clean when I’ve misjudged someone. And you, my dear, are more cunning and devious than I ever would have guessed. Tell me. How much am I paying you?”

“Twenty-two dollars an hour, sir.”

“Twenty-tuh–” He splutters, his signature grouchy scowl returning for a fraction of a second as he shakes his head. Then he plasters the fake smile back onto his face, albeit with a few cracks. What was that he was saying about being able to come clean about his own misjudgements?

Through clenched teeth, he continues, “Well, I was going to say you deserve a raise for going above and beyond, on a weekend, no less, but… that is neither here nor there.”

I’m about to interrupt and say that I’d very much like to explore that idea further, but he continues, pulling a wrinkly Pecker out of his front trouser pocket.

“Gosling spotted fleeing the Gander’s nest after late-night post-game celebration!” He reads, smacking the Pecker with the back of his hand. “Why, Miss Gander. To think you are so devoted to the Tuft Swallow Clinic that you would go so far as to seduce the competition into such a scandalous scenario! With absolutely no regard for your own reputation or dignity in the process. I have never been prouder of a peon, my dear. And I use that term with the utmost respect: it’s so difficult to find devoted peons these days.”

Uh…what? “Th-thank you?”

“You keep texting that beau of yours now. Keep him on the hook. Whatever it takes! I assume you have a very public and tragic break-up planned once he’s fully invested? Shatter his very manhood for all to see? Perhaps even at the championship game itself! Oh, you’ve always been an ambitious one!”

“Sure, sir. About that raise–”

“To raise such stakes! And all for loyalty to your superior and hometown team. Outstanding. Feel free to text as much as you need for the rest of the day–the week, even! As long as it takes to see our little plan through, eh? Provided you don’t shirk your office duties in the meantime. I am still paying you, after all.”

“Right, and speaking of pay–”

“Chop, chop, Miss Gander! Don’t waste the day!”

He hums as he strolls away with a spring in his step, any and all talk of that supposed raise evaporating in his wake.

One of these days…

The coffee pot dings and I fill the mug Lily bought me specifically for the office. It’s plastered with an image of Garfield and his catchphrase “I hate Mondays,” but more importantly, it’s enormous. Armed with caffeine and my boss’s blessing, I unlock my phone and catch myself up on Lily’s texts.

Lily

HE SPENT THE NIGHT??

Kodi, I need DETAILS. Stat.

Are his arms as big as they look in his button-up shirts?

OMG WHAT ABOUT HIS ?????

Kodi. I’ve been more than patient. You’re so overdue on this that no extra credit will ever dig you out of this hole.

NONE, I’m telling you.

KODI

KODI GANDER YOU TEXT ME BACK THIS INSTANT

KODI YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO ME

THIS IS YOUR FIRST BOYFRIEND, FAKE OR NOT, AND YOU WILL NOT CUT ME OUT OF THE JUICY DETAILS!!!

Oh my God, did he actually wear your apron? Are you into that?

…Girl we might need to talk.

I mean, obviously, we need to talk.

But like, your apron? Seriously? Is this some feminist kink thing I haven’t heard about yet? Are you a dominatrix???

…Was he naked underneath the apron?

Okay, that might actually be a little hot ???? Have you been holding out reverse patriarchy BDSM fantasies on me? You know I’ll try anything once.

Like, with a guy.

OMG, could you imagine Logan in a frilly apron? ??

Oh right, I just remembered you’re at work. But seriously. Text me as soon as you get this!!

WITH DETAILS

Or I swear I’m getting tonsillitis for real this time.

I’m surprised my asscheek didn’t go numb from all the notifications.

Me

Easy there, tiger. Nothing happened. Except the apron, that did actually happen. How do you know about that?

Lily

OMG way to finally get back to me

Um, girl, your frilly pink apron is literally ALL the Pecker can talk about ?? Don’t you have your copy yet?

Oh God. No, Doc took it this morning. He’s thrilled for me by the way. Thinks I’m out to break Brian’s heart

Brian, huh? First name basis now? ??

I mean, we DID kiss, so I’d hope so? Speaking of, why did you tell him that was my first kiss??

Because it WAS

No it wasn’t

Oh please, girl. Seven minutes in heaven with Cooper Swan at Rowena’s thirteenth birthday party does NOT count ??

Just because I’m a virgin doesn’t mean I’m clueless. So we kissed. No biggie.

OMG, Kodi. You’re killing me here. Literally, knife in my heart, twisted eleven times and currently pouring margarita mix in the wound ???? ?? TELL ME ABOUT THE KISS

What’s there to tell? The man has lips.

Really soft, commanding, lingering lips. Lips that I’ve been trying to avoid thinking about because it makes me sweat in awkward places. Not sure what exactly that’s all about.

Lily

You’re impossible, you know that? You’re lucky I stick around

Me

I know

We agree to meet for drinks after work to share details. As I get around to copying files, faxing insurance documents, and taking calls, my knee starts to twinge again. Probably all the getting up and down.

I glance at my phone. Should I text Brian? Make another appointment? I should probably get to work on his booking and payment systems, too. Honestly, we have a lot still to iron out about our fake relationship. Maybe we could get dinner tomorrow, and–

Dinner? Seriously?

…Maybe just a text.

Me

Hey Brian. I’ve got a question about my knee when you have a sec.

He’s not nearly as quick to respond as Lily. By the time she comes to pick me up for happy hour at the Crowbar, he still hasn’t texted me back. Which makes me wonder if he’s having second thoughts about the whole fake relationship after this morning’s ‘bird report’ after all. By the time Callie walks in and orders a round of cocktails at the bar, I’ve caught Lily up on everything from the weekend. We talk in hushed tones just in case any Tit Peepers have their hearing aids turned up.

Lily finishes her cosmo in one long gulp when I finish. "So you’re actually fake dating? Seriously? I'm sorry, did someone walk in here and replace my best friend with Mary Kate or Ashley Olsen? Have I stumbled on set for their comeback blockbuster, The Chiropractor Trap?"

I roll my eyes. "Come on, Lily, it's a good idea! And I'm pretty sure The Parent Trap was Lindsay Lohan."

"It's a terrible idea!!" She ignores my correction. "Look, I know you're all proud of your spreadsheets and your improvisational skills, nerd, but this is too much even for you, Kodi. You don't even like regular dating! What makes you think you're going to enjoy doing the hard part with none of the good stuff?"

I don’t give her words a second of consideration as Callie comes back to the table, bearing drinks and nachos, waving off her concern. "Hey, as far as I'm concerned, fixing my leg IS the good stuff."

"Ooo, where's he fixing to put your legs? Catch me up, I'm behind. Wait–is THAT where he puts them?" Callie gestures excitedly behind her head, cosmos still in hand, and ends up spilling half of one down the back of her shirt. "Ah shit, this is a new bra…"

The word “bra” seems to attract the attention of the guys at the table behind us. None other than Brad and Logan, as a matter of fact. Logan perks up when he sees Lily with an empty martini glass beside her.

"Is it just me, or do we seem to keep running into each other?"

"SHOVE IT, GILGAX, IT’S GIRLS NIGHT." Lily grabs some napkins and starts dabbing at the back of Callie’s shirt. “Ugh, come on, let’s use the hand dryer in the bathroom. Kodi, watch our drinks, and keep the boy scouts out of our nachos.”

I snort at her calling Brad and Logan boy scouts. I still haven’t forgiven Logan for being the suspected informant to this weekend’s article listing me as Tuft Swallow’s resident drill sergeant. I glare at him, and the two of them shrink back to their table. As I wipe off Callie's chair with more napkins, a smooth baritone breathes into the hollow of my neck.

“Is this seat taken?”

“Brian!” I jump, then arrange my face into a smile. Despite my racing heart, it doesn’t take all that much effort. My lips lift automatically as I take him in. His jaw is stubbled with the same scruff that lined his face yesterday morning, only he’s swapped the pink apron for a cobalt blue polo that has his eyes looking bluer than ever. “What are you doing here?”

“What, I can’t surprise my girl at happy hour?” He leans in and kisses the air beside my jawline, so close that I can feel his lips tickle the fine hairs on my cheek. “I figured you and Lily would be here.”

His proximity is distracting. I’m pretty sure nobody would doubt we’re actually an item with him standing so close.

What should I do now? Hug him? Kiss him–again?

That seems overkill. I opt for a teasing smirk.

“Not even a week of dating and you already have my schedule memorized? Impressive.”

“Nah, she posted your first round on Instagram.” He grins at me as he takes a seat. So. He’s following my friends on Instagram now? Is that a thing that boyfriends usually do? Or is he just researching his role? “Cosmos, huh? You didn’t strike me as a Carrie.”

“Carrie?” I wrinkle my nose. “What does a horror movie have to do with Cosmos?”

“You’re kidding right?” He stares at me. “Sex and the City? Carrie Bradshaw? Come on, like, every Buzzfeed quiz of the early 2010s was based around which of the main characters was your personality type.”

I sip my pink drink. “Sorry. Before my time.”

“Oh my God, how old are you? This little stint between us isn’t going to land me in jail, is it?”

He looks me up and down, and I slap his arm. I swear it’s made of fucking steel. My palm stings from the impact. “I’m twenty-four.”

His eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline, but he seems to recover from his surprise quickly. “We span the Gen Z/Millennial divide, then. Fuck. Does this mean I’m going to have to get on TikTok now?”

“That’s more Lily’s thing than mine. Apparently it’s all thirst traps and smutty book recommendations? I just have Facebook.”

A smile curves at the corner of his lips, and that weird tug in my stomach starts up again. His eyes sparkle as he says, “An old soul. Can I add you on Farmville? We’re not really fake official here until we water each other’s crops everyday.”

“Shh! Not so loud,” I hiss into his ear, terrified someone might overhear him using the word fake. Brian laughs, slipping an arm over my shoulder as if it’s second nature.

The girls return, and their eyes dart between the two of us. I immediately scoot back in my chair; Brian and I ended up much closer to each other than I realized. He straightens, too, and sticks out a hand to Callie. “I don’t believe we’ve met officially. Brian Gosling.”

“Hi there.” She giggles a little. “Callie Stavropoulos. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“She loves a man who wears pink,” Lily adds. Brian blushes, and it’s maybe the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen.

Logan pops over Lily’s shoulder. “I thought you said it was girl’s night?”

“I swear to God, Logan, if you don’t stop cutting into my conversations–”

Brian leans into me again, and I tune out their bickering as he mutters in my ear. “Is it really girl’s night? I can head out. I just got your text and thought we could figure out a time to barter this week.”

The giddiness I’d been feeling from the alcohol fades a little when he brings up business. “Oh, right. Why don’t we meet up after work tomorrow, before practice? Lily has Monday’s off at the salon, which is why we usually meet up, but Tuesdays she works late. Does that work for you?”

“Your knee will be good until then?” His face is scrunched with concern, and I swear my heart melts. But I keep it professional.

“I’ve survived six years with pain way worse than this. I can last another day.”

He nods, concern not completely gone from his face, then rises from his chair. The air around me chills without his proximity. He taps Callie and Lily on the shoulder, cutting short their argument with the boys. “I’ll leave you to your night, ladies, sorry for interrupting.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble!” Lily bats her eyelashes at him and levels me a knowing look. Callie just grins and catches my eye when he bends down to wrap his arm around my shoulder in a half hug.

“See you tomorrow, babe.” Once again, he pushes his lips so close to my face that anyone in the bar would think it made contact.

Anyone but me.

“Bye, hon. I’ll catch you later.” I also kiss the air next to his scruff, but he tilts his head as he backs up, and my lips catch the corner of his mouth. His scruffy mustache tickles my upper lip, and I open my mouth in surprise.

His gaze meets mine, and in the space of a breath he asks me an unspoken question. Do we…?

I give my head the most imperceptible nudge downward to indicate yes. Time seems to stop as we close the space between my open mouth and his, casually. Naturally.

My heart totally isn’t about to beat out of my chest or anything.

Our lips only touch for a short moment. Compared to the kiss after we won the season opening game, it’s barely a blip on anyone’s radar. Brad and Logan aren’t even paying attention to us anymore, and the girls have gone back to arguing with them over something inconsequential.

It’s all inconsequential.

Despite the contact lasting only half a second, it’s long enough to render everything other than me and Brian completely and utterly meaningless. In the space of a breath, my world collapses to the softness of Brian’s lips and the warmth of the crook of his arm around my shoulders. I close my eyes and breathe in his smell–the one that I already feel like I could pick out of a lineup of every man I’ve ever known in a heartbeat. And that’s saying something, given how fast my heart is beating now.

I’m sweating again. In between my legs, particularly, it feels like there’s a swamp under construction as the warmth of his mouth on mine spreads in a tingling wave down my shoulders and all the way to my toes.

He pulls away, retrieving his arm. My mouth stays open, eyes still closed, until he clears his throat and I come back to myself.

He gives me a tight smile, says, “I’ll text you,” and walks out of the bar.

It isn’t until Lily calls my name that I turn away from his retreating form and try to get back to girl’s night, dread building in my chest.

Because that kiss? That didn't feel fake.

At least, not for me.