How to Woo a Goose #3
When I wandered back to the clinic, I found Mason standing on the porch, admiring his weird porch goose. He picked it up and moved it a couple of inches to the left where the light was better. It wasn’t an improvement. That thing needed bad lighting.
“You don’t like it, do you?” he asked me.
My face had always done the talking for me, but I tried too late to school my features. “Well, it’s better than—”
Suddenly, from the sidewalk, there came a honking loud war cry, and in a frenzy of feathers and insanity, Lucille rushed toward us.
Speak of the devil. A kid on a tricycle swerved dramatically into the road to avoid her, and his mom darted after him, leaving a baby in a stroller to wave its little fists at the spectacle.
Lucille charged on heedlessly, stampeding straight for us.
Could a single goose stampede? This one could.
“Where did she even come from?” Mason asked, grabbing me around the waist and hauling me to the door.
Straight from hell, obviously.
Lucille continued to bear down on us, her wings spread wide, and in a moment of desperation, I threw the half a cookie I was holding at her. It bounced off the side of her head and distracted her for long enough that we made it safely inside.
Lucille ate the remains of my cookie missile, all the while glaring at the door.
I leaned into Mason’s chest, and there was a moment’s silence before he said, “That wasn’t chocolate chip, was it?”
I gave him a disbelieving stare.
“What? It’s toxic for geese.”
“It was oatmeal,” I whispered. I couldn’t even be mad at him for being concerned for the goose. That was just how he was built—or so I thought.
But then he said, “Thank fuck. Can you imagine trying to pump Lucille’s stomach?” He shuddered, and I didn’t blame him. But even if it had been chocolate, I had no doubt Lucille would have been immune. She was a law unto herself.
“I guess I’ll call Bobby,” Kayla said from her seat behind the reception desk.
A small white car pulled into the driveway and a woman got out.
Lucille flapped her wings and leapt up, perching on the porch rail and hissing loudly. The woman took one look and got back in her car. A second later the practice phone rang and Kayla answered it.
She listened for a moment. “Yes, Mrs. Palmer, we know. No, I wouldn’t recommend you try and get past her. Just wait in your car. Dr. Ross is coming out to deal with Lucille right now.”
She hung up and looked at Mason expectantly.
Mason shook his head. “Absolutely not.”
“Your first patient of the day is trapped in her car, Mason.” She threw him a towel. “Wrap Lucille in that.”
I couldn’t quite hide my smile when Mason’s shoulders slumped. He was about to open the door when I said, “Wait.”
Mason shot me a confused look when I pulled out my phone. I held it up and said, “I need a picture to remember you by before you run away with, or are murdered by, your new goosewife.”
It was worth the effort it took to say all that just for the outraged look on Mason’s face, and I snapped a couple of pictures while Kayla cackled.
“You’re a pair of assholes,” Mason said.
I grinned before leaning in and whispering, “Good luck, babe.”
His expression softened at the pet name, and his lips brushed against mine in a gentle kiss. Then he squared his shoulders, gripped the towel tightly in one hand, and opened the door.
Lucille flew at him from the porch railing, and he slammed it shut again. Lucille hit the door with a thud. “Nope. I’m calling Bobby.”
But there was no need. Bobby’s old truck pulled up the driveway, his tires sending up clouds of dust as he skidded to a stop.
Like, the driveway wasn’t even dusty. Maybe Bobby had been off-roading somewhere, or maybe he was just so committed to his aesthetic that he packed the treads of his tires with dirt before he went anywhere.
Although the off-roading thing was probably more likely.
The engine cut out and Bobby scrambled out of the driver’s door and marched up the steps, Lucille’s leash draped around his neck like a cut-rate stethoscope.
He wasted no time grabbing Lucille and slipping her harness and leash on her, avoiding her snapping beak.
He tucked her under his arm and gripped her leash.
Mason opened the door cautiously, making sure the space was too small for Lucille to get through.
Mrs. Palmer got out of her car but only made it as far as the bottom of the stairs before she hesitated.
“Is it safe?” she asked, clutching the handles of her cat carrier like she thought Lucille might swoop in and carry it off. To be fair, with Lucille, anything was possible.
“Completely safe,” Bobby said, stepping aside to clear a path.
Mrs. Palmer scurried up the steps, and Mason opened the door wide enough that she could get inside. While Kayla checked her in, Mason stepped out front to talk to Bobby and I followed him. Dog came too, hiding behind my legs.
Bobby ran a hand through his hair and set Lucille down.
I backed away. “My apologies, Doc,” he said.
“I don’t know what’s gotten into her. One minute she was scratching in the dirt in the yard, and the next minute she was gone.
” He chuckled. “I’ve never seen a goose with a crush before, but I reckon Lucille has one on you! ”
Mason’s brow creased. “She can’t possibly be attracted to me.”
I hoped not. Lucille was terrifying, and honestly, if it came to fighting her for Mason’s affections, I wasn’t sure I’d win.
That didn't mean I wouldn’t try, though.
Now I’d found Mason, I had no intention of sharing him—with a goose or with anyone.
I might be new to this boyfriend thing, but apparently I had a possessive streak.
Who knew?
Bobby hummed. “I dunno. There’s something that keeps bringing her back here, and it ain’t Cash. You’re the new person here.” Lucille flapped her wings again and strutted along the porch toward Mason.
“Goosewife,” I whispered, and I was only half joking this time.
Mason shot me a look. “I really don’t think that’s it,” he said.
Lucille honked loudly and tugged on her leash, and Bobby took a step sideways—away from me, thankfully.
As he did so, the heel of his cowboy boot knocked into Mason’s ugly porch goose, and it rocked alarmingly from side to side.
Bobby hurried to reach out and steady it—which was when Lucille charged at him, hissing furiously.
Bobby’s eyes widened and he drew his hand back quickly, straightening up and stepping away from Sir Honksalot. “Lucille! What’s gotten into you?”
Lucille opened up her wings and flapped them at him.
“What the—” Bobby took a step back. Then, because he was either the bravest man who ever lived or the dumbest, he took a step toward her. No—toward the porch goose.
Lucille hissed and flapped.
“Well, I’ll be darned,” Bobby said. “It ain’t you that’s got her all het up, Doc. It’s this goose here! Lucille’s in love!”