CHAPTER 12
MAPLE
“Maple,” Graydon says, his voice laced with anger. “Stop ignoring me.”
“I’m not ignoring you. I’m trying to take care of the flamingos,” I say as I prepare vitamins for some of our birds.
He moves in right next to me. “You’re ignoring me.”
Seeing that he’s not going to quit with this badgering, I turn to him, one hand on the counter, the other holding a vial of supplements.
“I’m not going to talk to you about this in my place of work.
We have things to do. I’d like to take a picture of you looking at the flamingos today, and then you can be on your way. ”
“We need to talk about this.”
“Text me later,” I say, turning back to the vitamins, only for my shoulder to be pulled back so I have to face his dark gaze again.
“This is not a later conversation,” he snarls. “This is a now conversation.”
Just then, Harriot walks into the building and pauses when she sees me and Graydon staring each other down.
Slapping on a smile, I ask, “Harriot, do you mind finishing the vitamins? I need to speak with Graydon.”
“Certainly,” she answers as she comes up next to me and starts taking over the duties.
“Thank you.”
I wash my hands quickly, dry them, and then take Graydon by his gigantic arm and move him toward the back of the flamingo building, out the door, and off to a corner surrounded by foliage.
Speaking quietly, I ask, “What do you need to talk about?”
His nostrils flare as he leans in close. “We’re not pretending to be in a public relationship.”
“Doesn’t seem like we have much of a choice, now does it?”
“You do,” he whisper-shouts. “You have a choice. They can’t force you to do anything. You don’t have a contract with them, so you don’t have any attachment whatsoever. Tell them no and end this misery for us.”
“For us, or for you?” I ask, shifting on my feet.
Just as the comments have said on repeat, Graydon St. John is hot…
to look at. Personality? Not so hot. But people don’t know that.
And me? Well, I’m definitely not in the same league.
The only other stupidly handsome man I’ve dated was Hardy.
So even I can see why Graydon’s molars are grinding with distaste.
“I know you wouldn’t typically be seen with someone like me, but I can…
I can get new pants if you’re worried about the high-waters.
If that’s what’s going to eat away at you. ”
He drags his hand down his face. “That’s not what I’m fucking worried about. This isn’t a smart move, Maple.”
“It seems like it is. You’re already looking favorable to the public. Gretchen believes this will change people’s perception about the Foghorns and offer some good press. Isn’t that what you want? Isn’t that what you’re looking for? Why are you so against it? Is it because it’s me?”
“No,” he snaps.
“Then what is it? I can’t seem to figure out any other reason as to why this would be such a horrible attachment when it benefits you greatly.”
His clenched jaw ticks just below his ear as he studies me, mulling over his answer. After a few seconds, he says, “You know what? Fine. If you want this, then you can have it.”
“I don’t want this,” I say, wanting to make sure he understands he’s not doing me any favors.
“This is one of the last things I want, but I’m also desperate not to lose my job, not to lose a home for these flamingos.
I will do anything to keep them around, which means saying yes to a plan that could grant me money to keep them around. ”
“It’s not just a plan. It’s an invasion of privacy.”
I shrug. “I don’t have much of a life. People can search, but they’re not going to find anything.”
He pulls on his neck, standing taller, actually seeming distressed about this. “They’re going to eat you alive, Maple.”
“That’s a risk I’m willing to take,” I answer, even though fear starts to prickle along my skin.
He slowly nods, then blows out a heavy breath. “Fine, but don’t fucking say I didn’t warn you.”
“I’ve been warned,” I say, not wanting to talk about it anymore. “Now, if we can get on with what we’re here for, I’d appreciate it. I’d like to educate you about our flamingos before the event this Saturday.”
He scrubs his hand over the back of his head. “Yeah, sure.”
With those two words, I make my way back into the flamingo building, Graydon coming with me. I grab some pellets for enrichment and then say, “This way.”
We walk back out to the exhibit, where I open the gate for both of us. Last time he was here, I went over safety with him around the birds, but this will be his first time in the exhibit.
I shut the gate behind me, locking it, and then bring him to the edge of the bushes, giving the flamingos some room. Stiff and uncomfortable, he shifts next to me, clearly out of his element, which amuses me slightly as I think about how out of my element I was yesterday.
When one of the flamingos starts moving toward us, Graydon takes a step back. “What’s that fuck doing?”
“Can you not call the flamingos ‘fucks’?” I ask as he moves behind me.
“Well, the fuck has a look in its eye.”
“Once again, do not call them ‘fucks,’ and people are watching.”
I look over at the windows and flamingo outlooks. People are holding up their phones, taking pictures and videos.
“Why the fuck are we doing this?” he asks.
“Because you need to get comfortable with them.” Lester, one of the more curious flamingos, walks up to us, and I hand Graydon some pellets. “Here, toss Lester a pellet.”
It’s barely out of my hand before Graydon is tossing it on the ground behind Lester and causing him to turn away.
“This is fucked up. I don’t want to be in here with food and them stampeding toward us.”
“They’re not stampeding toward us. They’re barely interested.” I step to the side and toss some more pellets before pulling my phone out of my back pocket. “Now squat down so I can take a picture with you and the flamingos.”
“I’m good.”
Growing frustrated, I turn toward him and quietly say, “Graydon, this is for social media. Now squat down and take a picture.”
“No.”
“Graydon,” I say sternly. “I did your stupid workout, now you take a freaking picture with the flamingos.”
He stares down at me.
I stare up at him.
And after a few seconds of silence, he rolls his eyes and then squats down a few feet from the flamingos, and I snap a picture of him looking out toward them like he’s studying their beautiful feathers and quirky long legs.
I stare down at the picture for a moment, taking in the juxtaposition of the imposing man with impenetrable muscles wrapping and weaving over his body next to the delicate pink feathers of an innocent flamingo.
A very odd pairing, but also…it sort of works.
“Okay, can we leave?” he asks while standing.
“You realize you’re scared of birds, right?”
“Have you seen the size of their beaks? You’re just doing this to get back at me for yesterday.”
“No, I’m just trying to educate you.”
“You have yet to say anything educational since being in here.”
“I haven’t had the chance because you can’t stop crying about being next to them,” I shoot back.
His eyes narrow before he says, “Fine, educate me.”
A smile tugs at my lips because I find it so much fun to talk about the birds that bring me joy and to educate people who might think they’re not worth anything.
“I’m glad you asked. There are six species of flamingos globally.
The greater flamingo, lesser flamingo, American flamingo, Andean flamingo, Puna flamingo, and Chilean flamingo, which is what we have here at the zoo.
Four of them are found here in the Americas, while the other two reside in Asia and Europe.
Currently, there are no more than two hundred thousand Chilean flamingos left in the wild, making them nearly threatened as a species.
This is due to human disruption of their environment.
” Graydon glances out at them, taking them in.
“They’re very smart, they have great hearing, and although their eyesight suffers at night like an octogenarian’s, they have great color perception, allowing them to recognize me from someone in the crowd. ”
He nods. “And their pinkness is from their food, right?”
Oh my God, look at him showing an ounce of interest.
“Yup,” I answer. “They’re actually born gray or white, and as they grow and feed on carotenoids, their diet reflects in their color. We try to offer them a diverse diet that helps them maintain their color but also offers them the nutrients they need to stay healthy.”
Big Hermy squawks over in the corner, pulling our attention. Ugh, I love him so much. I toss him a few pellets to satiate him. “They’re also loud. They’ll growl and they’ll bray like a donkey too.”
“And they smell.”
I roll my eyes. “Any animal’s going to smell, especially when it comes to captivity. We try to offer them the most natural habitat. When I was in Peru observing them—”
“You were in Peru?” he asks, surprised, the tension between us easing for a moment.
“For a few years,” I answer. “I was studying them in the wild.” I stare off at the flamingos.
“Best few years of my life. I miss it so much. I miss the chilly early mornings, the dew just lifting off the mud. I miss the sounds they make at night, the stars above us being the only glimmer of light. I miss the people…”
“The people?” I can feel his eyes on me. “What, did you have like a boyfriend or something out there?”
I push my hand through my hair. “No.”
“Well, that’s a lie. I could see right through that bullshit answer.”
“He wasn’t a boyfriend, just…just a guy who I got along with.”
“Who liked flamingos as much as you.”
“Yes,” I grumble and try to remain neutral. People are watching us. “Other people like flamingos just as much as I do. I know that’s hard to believe.”
He scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah, it is.”
God, what an ass. And here I thought we were getting along for a moment.