Chapter 14
Please Please Please
Birdie’s already gone by the time I finish talking with her dad. I figured she wouldn’t wait around—most likely panicking over how the conversation played out and wanted to avoid the aftermath if it went south.
Since the diner is only a few blocks away, I decide to grab dinner there rather than chance running into Heath or Mom on the ranch on my way back to my loft, knowing they’d no doubt pepper me with questions.
On my walk over, I check in with Birdie.
Walker: That talk with your dad was interesting…
Walker: Felt like I was being sent to the principal’s office, except your dad is scarier and carries a gun.
Birdie: Walker Halstead, don’t you dare leave me hanging. What happened?
Walker: Want the good or bad news first?
Birdie: Good. Let’s start on a high note.
Walker: Good news: He didn’t kill me.
Walker: Bad news: No chance he lets me survive our breakup.
Birdie: What a shame. I’d hate to lose my favorite teacher. *wink face emoji
Walker: You did promise you’d make it worth my while if I got through that conversation so at least I have got that to look forward to.
Birdie: Lucky for you, I’m in a hands-on mood.
Walker: You’re getting dangerously good at flirting over text.
Birdie: Perks of having an excellent teacher.
God, I’d give anything to be with her right now and put into practice everything our kiss last night promised would follow.
Walker: Got any plans tonight?
Birdie: Just visiting my mom, then a low-key night at home with Nugget and the kittens.
Walker: Kittens?
Birdie: Someone dropped off a litter of five on my doorstep this morning. Briar was kind enough to take three, leaving me with two adorable tyrants who won’t negotiate when it’s bottle time.
I’m momentarily distracted when I reach the Prickly Pear, holding the door open for an elderly couple before stepping to the side of the waiting area.
Walker: Sounds like you’ve got your hands full.
Birdie: Oh, if only you knew.
My thumb hovers over the screen, itching to ask if I can come over later, but I think better of it. If she wanted me there, she’d say so. Not willing to risk pushing her boundaries, I play this one safe.
Walker: If you need backup, I’m only a text away.
Birdie: I should be able to manage for now, but I’ll keep you on standby. Never know when I might need a cowboy with a six-pack to come to my rescue.
Walker: So you were checking me out when I had my shirt off the other morning.
Birdie: Uh… Mama wants to watch our show. Gotta go.
Walker: Don’t think that deflection will save you the next time we’re together, pretty girl.
Birdie: Talk to you later!
I laugh at her Herculean effort to dodge the question. That’s fine—there will be plenty of opportunities later to get the truth out of her. For now, I’m just glad she’s enjoying her time with her mom.
After a quick bite, I head back to the ranch. Pulling through the entrance, I notice my parents’ truck parked in front of Briar and Jensen’s cottage. Whenever we have family dinners, Ma hosts at the ranch house, which means they must be babysitting Caleb.
The one time Heath and I watched him when Jensen and Briar first started dating, he stayed up well past his bedtime watching Shrek and eating way too many cookies—which was one hundred percent Heath’s fault.
Needless to say, our babysitting privileges were promptly revoked.
That’s okay—I’ve still got my favorite-uncle status covered with gifts, including books like Dragons Love Farts: They’re More Fun Than Tacos!
and The Day My Butt Went Psycho, because every kid could use a good laugh before bed.
When I pull up to the ranch house, I beeline it to my loft to dodge running into Heath. After a quick shower, I kick back on the couch with my feet on the coffee table, watching an old western with a cold beer in hand.
The sun has long since set, and I’m halfway through another movie when I decide to call it a night. I have an early morning ahead with feeding the horses and cattle before heading into my shift at the sheriff’s office.
No sooner had I turned off the TV than Birdie texted me.
Birdie: I have a kitten emergency. Think you could come over?
I’m on my feet before I even finish reading her message.
Walker: Absolutely. You okay?
Birdie: Got a new crate and the door won’t latch.
Walker: Did you try wiggling it while pressing down?
Birdie: Yep, but no luck. I don’t want them to escape in the middle of the night so I could really use some backup.
I’m no kitten expert, but a simple wedge against the door should keep them in if the latch is faulty. Then it hits me—Birdie’s an animal rescue pro, so she’s got several crates and carries on hand for emergencies like this.
Could this be an excuse to get me to come over for something else?
Frankly, I don’t give a damn. If she wants me there, I’m going—no questions asked.
It’s well past ten when I get to her place. The porch light is on, and the door is slightly ajar. I let out a low grunt of disapproval. Even if she was expecting me, she shouldn’t have left the door open.
Against my better judgment, I decide that’s a discussion for another day. She called me for help, and I won’t risk making her regret it by picking a fight the second I get here.
I knock a few times, and when there’s no response, I stick my head through the doorway.
“Hello? Birdie, I’m here,” I holler, only to be met with continued silence.
I figure she’s probably preoccupied with the kittens, but I can’t ignore my protective instincts, so I slowly open the door and go inside to make sure she’s all right.
To my surprise, I find Nugget standing in the middle of the hallway, like she’s guarding the place. A chicken roaming around the house would be alarming anywhere else, but at Birdie’s, it’s par for the course.
Nugget goes still when she spots me, fixing me with a skeptical stare.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Birdie peeking her head out from the kitchen doorway, but I pretend not to notice.
Instead, I tip my hat at Nugget and say, “Evening, ma’am. I’m looking for your pretty owner. She’s got beautiful blue eyes and dimples for days. Any chance you know where I can find her?”
Nugget blinks and lets out a series of clucks before waddling toward the kitchen, where Birdie is now standing in the doorway, covering her mouth to stifle a laugh.
Birdie bends down and scoops Nugget up, cradling her in her arms.
“Did you bring me a visitor?” she coos, leaning in as if Nugget is answering. “He really said all those nice things about me? I’m flattered.” Birdie glances at me, eyes sparkling with amusement. “I think we should let him stay—what do you think?”
Nugget squawks softly and ruffles her wings, which I’m taking as her stamp of approval.
“So what’s the verdict?” I ask Birdie. “Do I get to stick around?”
She lets out a dramatic sigh. “I suppose since you’re here now, you might as well be useful.”
“Consider me at your service.”
I follow her into the kitchen, my eyes immediately landing on a crate in the corner, covered with a blanket.
“That the one you wanted me to fix?”
Birdie’s eyes widen and dart around the room. “Oh… uh… no. The kittens were getting sleepy, and I found a spare one in the storage closet that I forgot I had, so I put them in there.”
I tilt my head. “Oh? And where’s the crate you said needs fixing?”
She nods toward the kitchen table, where a smaller one sits. “Right there.”
Birdie sets Nugget down, and the chicken darts across the floor. When she reaches the large crate holding the kittens, she flaps her wings and launches herself onto the top, perching in the middle as if it’s a giant egg.
“Nugget is convinced the kittens are hers,” Birdie explains, reading my perplexed expression. “She got upset when Briar took three of them home, and now she’s guarding the others like a hawk.”
I inspect the crate on the table, flipping the latch open and shut a few times with ease. The hinge isn’t bent or loose, and the door swings smoothly. I even check the corners for weak spots, but everything looks solid.
“I’m not seeing anything wrong with this,” I tell Birdie. “Can you show me what was giving you trouble?” I step aside to give her space, but she doesn’t budge. “Birdie?” I ask again.
She lets out a nervous laugh, twisting her necklace between her fingers. “If you say it’s fine, I’m sure you’re right. I must have been too scatterbrained between prepping the kittens’ bottles and setting it up to open the latch properly. Sorry for making you come all the way out here for nothing.”
I move closer, and she lifts her chin to meet my eyes, her chest rising and falling with quick, shallow breaths. The low-cut tank top accentuates the curves of her breasts, and her pajama shorts showcase her sun-kissed legs. She’s all kinds of tempting, and my restraint is wearing thin.
“The crate never needed to be fixed, did it?”
A blush rises to her cheeks as she nibbles her lower lip. “Why would you think that?”
I close the last few steps between us, and Birdie lets out a soft gasp as I wrap my arm around her waist, drawing her against me.
“We agreed to be honest with each other, remember?” I murmur against her mouth.
She looks up at me, her eyes wide and vulnerable. “Will you leave if I admit that’s not why I asked you to come?”
I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, my fingers grazing her cheek. “No, Birdie, baby. I’m not going anywhere,” I promise, holding her gaze. “Now—why don’t you tell me the real reason you texted me.”