Chapter 19 The Imperial March #2
He would hate that her apple chips were being devoured by the handful. Fritters, too.
Take that, jerk face.
Seth’s arm came around her shoulders. “You’re looking fierce. They’re loving your stuff.”
She grinned. “I was thinking of Anson. How he would hate that my new ideas were successful.”
“I’m glad you quit. That asshole didn’t deserve your talent.”
She leaned into his side. “Thanks. I’m much happier here.”
He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “We’ll see if we can improve on that later tonight.”
Her body reacted instantly to his words. “I bet we can.”
Holding his hand, she dragged him into the kitchen. The quicker they cleaned up, the faster they’d end up in the bedroom.
Afterward, Seth took her hand. “Time to feed the ladies and get them settled before we have some fun of our own?”
She ran to her room and grabbed the printout she’d made identifying six of the hens.
Chickens of Chick Inn Time.
These six hens are named to honor a group of incredible military men, one of whom was taken far too soon. Thank you for your service.
Then she’d added a picture of each bird with its name beside it. Of course, Maki led the list.
She had nothing to protect the paper from the weather. She’d ordered some laminated sleeves from a school supply store, but they wouldn’t arrive for a few days. Until then, she’d print new ones daily if needed. The birds and the men they represented deserved recognition.
The other hens needed names, too. Hopefully, something would come to her soon.
As they walked, Seth took the paper from her hand and read it. He swallowed hard, then tugged her in for a kiss, one that reached her soul.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I’m glad we can do something to honor your friends.”
“I think I’ll send Maki’s brother another email.”
“You’re a good man, Seth. I’m sure he’ll appreciate it, even if he can’t respond yet.”
Seth blew out a deep breath, and they moved on. When they reached Chick Inn Time, the hens wandered the enclosed space, safe and happy. One roosted on the ramp, another on the swing, others on the monkey-bars she’d made. The rest wandered or sipped at the water.
A quick headcount showed that one of the mostly black ones was missing. “Do you think she’s in the coop?”
“Maybe. Do they use the nesting boxes during the day?”
She shrugged, and they moved around to check the boxes from the outside. “I don’t want to disturb her if she’s in there, but I want to be sure she’s safe.”
When they eased open the lid, Mara laughed. “Two more. We’ve got two more eggs.”
“And here she comes, strutting out of the coop to the ramp.”
Mara watched her as she stopped to sit with her friend on the ramp. “That’s it, Princess Lay-a-lot.”
Seth laughed. “Star Wars fan?”
“Of course. I have a whole playlist, as well as a John Williams playlist.”
“Of course you do.”
He said it with affection, and she grinned at him. “You too?”
“Yes to being a fan, no to a playlist.”
She waggled her eyebrows. “Not yet.”
When Princess Lay-a-lot moved past her friend down the ramp, the other hen tagged along beside her. As far as she’d noticed, the two were always together.
Mara decided to leave the eggs in the boxes until they’d finished feeding everyone, then she entered the enclosure with Seth.
He scattered the feed toward Princess Lay-a-lot, and that alerted the others. “Is the princess’s friend Hen Solo?”
She laughed. “I love that. Princess Lay-a-lot and Hen Solo. Perfect.” She wasn’t sure if she meant the new name for the hen or the man who’d named her.
A loud white hen fluffed her feathers and pecked at Seth’s boots. “You want a name, too? How about Chew-Bock-Bock?”
While she was laughing, he grinned again. “Darth Layer?”
“Two more. Wait, I know. Hen Erso after Jyn in Rogue One.”
“Obi-Hen Kenobi?”
Mara wrote the names on her phone and then clicked photos of the hens. “The darkest one has to be Darth Layer.”
“And the mottled one can be Obi Hen Kenobi.”
Feeling on top of the world, Mara locked up the enclosure. Seth smiled at her. “Want to take a walk through the garden? The eggs will be fine until morning.”
“When we might have even more to use.”
He brushed his hands on his jeans to shake off the dust, then took her hand. The sun sat low in the sky, filtering through the apple trees, lighting Gray’s garden with soft, romantic light.
Seth led her slowly along a path. She brushed her free hand over the blooms and the greenery.
Gray’s sister had lived with cerebral palsy, and he’d created the garden as a sensory space because Angelina had loved the experience of gardens.
Sights, scents, and touches. He’d built the entire space in her honor, and Mara was sure the girl would have loved it.
Seth turned into a quiet nook surrounded by pink and purple blooms she couldn’t name. One of the benches Ford had built sat tucked into a corner, a perfect place to sneak a kiss.
Instead of settling there, Seth turned her into a dance hold. Unlike the upbeat spins they’d shared earlier in the kitchen, he moved into a waltz.
His arm banded around her waist and held her close. Gentle guidance from his hands and body had her moving into an intricate dance.
Soon, she was humming along to the rhythm his body created. “Ten Minutes Ago” from Cinderella fit his steps easily.
As she neared the end of the song, he spun them more quickly, and then paused to kiss her as the music faded away.
He really was perfect.