Chapter 36
Nate slowed his pace, jogging up the final stretch to the B&B. The skin around his stitches tugged and burned, and he didn’t have the right sort of shoes, but sometimes a guy just needs to run away. At least for a while.
When he reached the top of the driveway, he clasped his hands behind his head to catch his breath. Hopefully the quick run had loosed up the muscles in his neck. Muscles that had been tight ever since a frenzied redhead crashed into his armpit and stirred up his life.
How long had he known her? Not even a week? Seemed so much longer. Didn’t help that Gus, Lottie, Barb, and Evie had apparently treated her like one of the gang before roll call had even ended on their first meeting together yesterday afternoon.
What was it about McKenna that made everyone so comfortable? Well, everyone but Nate.
He massaged the kink in his neck. He wouldn’t be comfortable until she was gone.
Yesterday they’d spent entirely too much time together, first clearing the fallen branches from the recent windstorm, then repairing the part of the fence line at the far back of the property one of the neighbor’s cows had apparently decided to stomp down overnight.
Worst part about the whole day was that McKenna seemed to enjoy it.
All of it. The heat. The sweat. The cows.
Everything. Between her cheery disposition and strong work ethic, of course Nate had to go for a run this morning.
A girl like that gets inside a guy’s head.
Or worse, his heart. And with Nate heading back to his life in New York, and McKenna wanting to start a new life of her own in LA, the last thing Nate needed was a girl like that.
After cooling off, Nate ambled toward the house, his stomach rumbling for breakfast. Hopefully the girl like that had already eaten and started on the to-do list he’d left on the kitchen table for her.
Before Nate made it to the front porch, the girl like that was barreling around the side of the house, screaming. “Blood! Blood!”
Blood? Nate raced toward her, his heart rate kicking up into another gear as he raked his eyes over her, searching for signs of injury. “Where are you hurt?”
“Not me. The chicken. Hurry. I don’t know what to do.”
Nate grabbed her hand as she started to turn. “I’m sorry, but did you say a chicken is hurt?”
Her hand squeezed his. “Not hurt. Dead. It’s a complete massacre.”
Nate clung to her hand to keep her from taking off—and to give himself a moment to compose himself. “So you ran around the side of the house screaming and giving me a heart attack because . . .”
“Because Ms. Agnus was butchered by a serial killer. What else was I supposed to do?”
He let go of her hand and squeezed the back of his neck.
“Here’s an idea. Calmly walk up and say, Hey Nate, how was your run?
Thanks for leaving a pot of oatmeal on the stove for breakfast. Very tasty.
I must get the recipe. Gave me the energy I needed to crank out half of today’s to-do list already.
By the way, don’t be alarmed, but it looks like a fox got to one of the chickens. ”
“That was entirely too wordy. But I am glad that you clarified you were out for a run. I was a little confused why you’d taken to wearing such tiny shorts.”
He dropped his hand from his neck and tugged the bottom of his shorts down a smidgeon. “These are the appropriate length for serious runners, just for the record.”
“Well, be sure that you add to the record that most people’s underwear covers more skin than those shorts.”
“Noted.”
“Now can we get back to Ms. Agnus? You think it was a fox?” She blew a stray curl away from her left eye only for it to bounce right back. Before Nate realized what he was doing, he reached for her curl. Then pretended to tug a piece of grass from her hair.
“Uh, yeah. That’s my best guess,” he said, dodging her bright-eyed gaze and saying the next thing that sprang to his mind. “We’ll obviously have to wait for local law enforcement to finish dusting for prints to see if we’re dealing with a fox or the next Hannibal Lecter.”
“Jokes won’t bring Ms. Agnus back, Nate.” She pretended to punch his stomach.
“I don’t think anything is going to bring Ms. Agnus back from the sounds of it.” Was she flirting with him?
“So how do we keep this from happening again,” she said, grabbing on to his sweaty forearm with both of her hands.
Kind of felt like she was flirting with him. That or he was so out of practice with how to act around a beautiful woman that he interpreted true emotional distress over murdered chickens as flirting. “For starters I suggest we stop naming the chickens.”
“I’m talking about serious ideas.”
“In that case we get a sketch artist to draw the fox so other chickens can be on the lookout.”
She dropped her hands only to give him a playful punch in the upper arm. Okay, that had to be flirting. “Make fun all you want, Nate, but Ms. Agnus was someone’s chicklet at one time. That poor dead chicken had a mother.”
“So does the fox.”
“Who cares about the fox’s mother? She probably taught the little killer everything he knows about decapitating chickens.
Come see what I’m talking about.” She looped her arm through his and tugged him toward the chicken coop.
“That fox better be ready to lawyer up. If I ever get a hold of him, I’m coming after him with the maximum death penalty. ”
“Not just the minimum death penalty. You are severe.”
When they rounded the corner of the house, Nate saw the crime scene. Massacre might be a slight exaggeration, but not by much. He patted McKenna’s arm. “Go inside to my mom’s check-in desk. Should be some chalk. We can outline the body before we remove it.”
“I feel like Ms. Agnus deserves a lot more respect than what you’re giving her. She provided your mom and her guests with tasty eggs for years. Decades. Centuries.”
“Just how long do you think the average chicken lives?”
“Years. Decades. Centuries.”
Nate clamped his lips together to keep from smiling as he wiped sweat off his forehead with the bottom of his shirt. “Why don’t you go gather the eggs and break the bad news to all the other chickens while I clean up the area?”
“Can’t. I’m too rattled. They say chickens sense that sort of thing.”
“Where exactly do you get your information on farm animals?”
“I think I’ll check on the goats instead. See if any of them have fainted and need revived.”
“They’re not fainting goats, but sure. Get a few statements. Maybe ask if they’d be willing to pick the fox out of a lineup.”
“I’m starting to feel like you’re being sarcastic.”
“Good ear. Do you work as an airport worker on the side?”
“Oh, go pick some eggs and ponder, why don’t you?”
“Now there’s a mic drop if I ever heard one.”
She laughed and Nate hid another smile with his shirt. This quippy gorgeous oddball was going to get under his skin if he didn’t watch it. She had a way of loosening him up.
He massaged the back of his neck. No wonder he was in knots.