Chapter 20 #3
“Another chicken?” Fi finishes.
Michaels nods. “Captain Jack got out, and when I went to find him, I found her instead.”
“Why the heck are there two chickens chilling in these woods?” Fi whispers.
“That’s a very good question,” he murmurs. “My guess is there’s a free-range farm close by? I don’t think there are wild chickens in Washington.”
Anger and relief flood my limbs, and I lean over, grabbing Michaels by the collar. “Are you kidding me right now? You scared the shit out of us!”
At my outburst, a few things happen at once. The hen’s head swings around, and she takes off into the woods. I stand and storm back to the cabin, rage fueling my steps. “A fucking chicken. We think he’s been kidnapped or murdered, and he’s chasing a goddamn chicken.”
Fi jumps up behind me. “Seb, wait!” I pause, clenching my fists as I try to calm myself.
“Clever girl,” Michaels mumbles.
I glance back at him. “What?”
He snatches Fi’s flashlight and aims it into a bush, which is shaking, the snow falling from its leaves in soft white puffs. Suddenly, Captain Jack surges from the branches with an indignant squawk and runs toward Michaels.
Michaels stands and backs up quickly, stumbling when he runs into Fi, who falls back into me.
“I don’t think he’s stopping, B,” Fi says, pulling on Michaels’s coat. “He looks mad.”
The rooster charges at full speed, and Michaels turns with a shriek, pushing between me and Fi and sprinting toward the cabin. It’s a wonder he doesn’t break his neck.
“Look at the little guy go,” Fi snickers as we watch the captain prance through the snow. “He runs just like Johnny Depp.”
I start humming the Pirates of the Caribbean theme song and Fi giggles as we break into a jog, trying not to trip over hidden debris and plants as we follow Michaels and Captain Jack.
Jack chases him into the yard but stops when Michaels darts up the stairs and back into the cabin. Seemingly satisfied, he turns and wanders back to the shed.
“That was weird,” Fi whispers as we head inside where we find Michaels peeking out of the window facing the road. I take off my coat and throw my toque at him. “What were you thinking?”
Michaels catches the hat and chucks it back at me. I duck and it hits Fi in the chest. “I wanted to check on Jack. The door to the woodshed was open like someone had gone inside, and Fi’s crazy stepdad may be lurking around out there like Michael fucking Meyers.”
I frown and glance at Fi. “Did someone go in there?”
Michaels shrugs. “I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. But Jack was gone.”
“So you thought it would be a good idea to go chicken hunting in the forest in the dark?” I ask.
“In my defense, it wasn’t dark when I went looking for him.”
I look up at the ceiling with an exasperated growl, anger reigniting in my veins. “You’re such a selfish prick!”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Did you even think about us? What if something happened to you? We came back and the door was open, Brantley.”
Michaels’s brows furrow as he stares at me. “I didn’t think—”
“No, you didn’t fucking think, and that’s exactly the problem. You scared the shit out of us.”
“Us?” He sneers, and the hurt I saw in his eyes earlier reflects at me again. “Careful, Bastian. Your empathy is showing.”
Before I even understand my own impulse, I step forward. Michaels flinches as if I’m about to hit him, which—let’s be honest—is a fair assumption. I throw my arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. My eyes are itchy, and I squeeze them closed and drop my head to his shoulder.
He makes a sound in the back of his throat, but his arms cautiously come around my body and tighten.
“Hey,” he says gently. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
I press my face against the warm skin of his neck and feel his pulse racing against my cheek.
It’s weird being able to feel him this close.
It’s not like the quick hugs I give Marcus, and it’s different than when I embrace Fi, who’s all soft curves.
No, I feel muscles flexing against mine and the hard planes of his chest. The scent of his leather jacket fills my senses, and I breathe it in, letting it calm my waring emotions.
“Did you just smell me?” He sounds amused.
I pull back and lock eyes with him. “I don’t hate you,” I say, and he stills. “And I’m sorry. Really sorry.”
Fi walks into the living area and turns on one of the lamps, casting the room in soft buttery light. She turns back to us, twisting her fingers together.
“What?” I ask her.
“Are you guys about to fight or fuck? Because I can leave you alone.”
Michaels bursts out laughing, and I shake my head. “Which do you prefer, baby?” He stalks toward her, his eyes hooded, and I have to admit that I feel my cock jump with the way he moves so sensually. “You’re the boss.”
“I was making a joke, but if you’re offering…”
“Jesus, you’re a menace,” I say, trying to adjust my hardening cock. “You both are.”
Michaels and Fi give each other a wicked look and then they each grab of my hands, pulling me toward the loft.
“What?”
“Just get your ass up the ladder, grumpy bear,” Fi says with a gentle shove to my ass.
“I don’t really want that nickname to stick,” I mutter.
Michaels smirks. “I like it.”
This is the first time we’ve all been in the loft together, and despite our flirty foreplay, we look at each other awkwardly when we reach the bed.
“So, are we all crashing up here tonight?” Michaels asks, his eyes bouncing between us hopefully.
“We haven’t even had dinner,” I protest, not ready for more emotional turmoil.
“Actually, I have a surprise,” Fi says with a smile. “I completely forgot!” She runs to the ladder and shimmies down. I glance at Michaels, who shrugs back at me.
A minute later, Fi climbs back up, holding her laptop. “I remembered last night that I had a few movies downloaded on here from the last time I flew to New York with Anna.” She smiles shyly. “It’s not a very imaginative selection, but I thought we could watch something.”
“Rom-coms?” Michaels asks excitedly. “Do you have Notting Hill? I love a good Hugh Grant flick.”
“What?” Fi wrinkles her nose. “No.”
“Oh…”
“You sound disappointed, Sti—Michaels,” I say with a snicker.
“I happen to really like rom-coms; they make me feel fuzzy,” he mumbles defensively. “So what’re we watching then?”
“The Terminator movies,” Fi says with a bright smile. “They’re my favorite.”
Michaels and I glance at each other and try to hide our laughs because, shit, her excitement is adorable and her movie choices are a little unorthodox.
“And before you chicken out, B, I’ll make sure to cover your eyes during the scary parts.” He sticks out his tongue at her.
“Okay.” I clap my hands together. “Let’s fire up Arnold, and we’ll have popcorn for dinner?”
“You’re letting us have popcorn for dinner?” Michaels asks, bouncing on his toes. “Who even are you?”
“Letting you? I’m not your daddy.” I flush when Fi bursts out laughing. “That’s not what I meant.” Michaels starts laughing with her, and I glare at them. “Fine, I’ll cook then.”
“What? No!” Michaels protests. “I don’t want real food.”
“For fuck’s sake,” I mutter, and I turn, climb down the ladder, and walk to the kitchen.