Aubrey #2
“Oh gosh.” He stretched his arms over his head so I nestled in even closer, rubbing my chin on the dark hair of his armpit. He smelled of man and deodorant there. “Uhm…well, obviously it would be ‘The Strawberry Roan’ by Curley Fletcher. They put that poem to music did you know that?”
“I did! There’s a recording of the poem online that’s just glorious.
I knew you would pick that one.” I rested my cheek on his pectoral just as Ruggerio leaped up onto the bed.
My eyes flared in surprise. “Oh my goodness Ruggerio has joined us! Okay, let’s just let him find his spot and not disturb him.
I was so hoping he would join me in bed and he has! ”
“Yep, he has,” Hoyt whispered as the cat curled up behind me, a tight ball of vibrating fur that made me teary. “He’ll be a fine cat for you.”
“My life could not get any better than it is right now. Sharing my bed with two extremely handsome men while discussing cowboy poetry. Le sigh.”
“You’re an easy man to share a bed with.” He dropped a kiss to my brow. “Number two poem would be ‘Tying Knots in the Devil’s Tail’ by Gail Gardner. What do you think about that one?”
“What do I think?!” I went on to tell him what I thought of that wonderful poem, and several others that would make my must know list. That was how I fell asleep. With one furry man tucked into my spine and another less furry but just as loveable one pillowing my head.
It had been some time since I came to wakefulness beside a man.
Rolling to my side to better see Hoyt I was surprised to find him awake, with a cat beside him, writing in his journal. He glanced over when I made a sleepy sound, a smile sweet as orange marmalade appearing on his handsome face. His hair was damp.
“Morning,” I mumbled, rubbing at my bleary eyes, and wishing not for the first time that I could come awake and see clearly. Someday maybe I’d go under the knife. Laser, I suppose. That day was not today. The mere thought of cutting my eyeballs made me queasy. “I could get used to this.”
Roberto crowed at full volume not ten feet away. “He’s been pacing back and forth looking for his buddy,” Hoyt informed me. “Also, I took a shower.”
“That’s fine.” I stretched my toes to get them to crack.
“And I heard a noise outside so I peeked and a white van is parked by the shed.”
“Oh, yes, that’s Mr. Yates! He’s come to turn my shed into a chicken coop. Well, part of the shed. Poor Roberto. I’ll go give him some love after I get a snuggle with you.”
Hoyt placed his journal to the side so I could shimmy into his lap.
A perfectly perfect fit. I kissed the underside of his whiskery jaw while he rubbed the back of my neck.
I could spend the entire day sitting here sidesaddle on his thighs, head resting on his shoulder.
But today was Sunday. There was reading to be done, chickens to be bought, and dinner at the famed Snow Creek Ranch to be eaten.
“I like this,” Hoyt whispered as if the walls might hear him. “I was writing about you. Your eyes. Your lips. Your slim ankles.”
“Oh dear, stop talking like that or we’ll never leave this bed.”
“You say that like it would be a bad thing.” I tipped my head up for a kiss or two then sadly had to leave the snuggle.
“It would be a wonderful thing but we have a coop to build and hens to buy! Plus your brother will be looking for us for dinner. I am so excited for the day and for the hens! They’re all different breeds so I can tell them apart.
I have names for all three of the ladies.
” I bounded out of bed leaving Hoyt sprawled out among the coverings with his journal and a warm smile. “Emily, Maya, and Sylvia.”
“Poetesses?”
“But of course!” I gave him a saucy wink then ran into the bath to take a quick shower.
An hour later I was toting a lonesome gold rooster around in my arms watching the shed slowly becoming a palace for Roberto and his girls.
Hoyt was helping Mr. Yates with making a small run for the birds, driving posts, which I was sure was not on his rehab list of things to be doing but there he was doing it. Men. They could be so stubborn.
By noon the coop was ready for more chickens.
A small nestbox hung on the wall of the corner of the shed, a door and wall made from chicken wire would keep the chooks in their coop and not pooping on everything else, and a small door had been cut out of the old wood siding that I could open and close to let the chickens into their pen.
The pen was done as well. Roberto was in his new corner having lunch.
“Mr. Yates, you are the best handyman ever! As soon as I get eggs I will gift you a dozen on top of your pay for running out here to get Roberto settled,” I told Mr. Yates while he was cleaning up his tools.
Hoyt was lingering about, his lips flat, his brow furrowed.
“Sure, thanks. Your friend is handy,” Mr. Yates stated.
“His friend is his boyfriend,” Hoyt was quick to bark. My eyes rounded.
“Oh, okay, figured that was the case but didn’t want to presume. Here’s my bill. I took off twenty bucks for his help,” Mr. Yates explained then handed the invoice over.