Chapter 15 #2
His foot slid off the gas pedal as he turned to protect himself, and he was caught between the pain of working his leg back to the pedal and making sure he had eyes left by the time this was over.
“It’s in my hair! It’s in my hair!” Liz swatted frantically at the chicken hanging like a bat from the top of the golf cart as it pecked her head.
“Fuck this,” Carson muttered. No way was he going to let these crazy beasts make him their bitch.
He’d never hear the end of it if he let a raccoon and a flock of chickens take him out.
With a surge of adrenaline, he let out a roar while using his other crutch to reach over Liz and jab the chicken on the roof.
Her attacker dislodged, Carson turned his attention to the chickens on his side of the cart, using the crutch like a lightsaber.
Ignoring the throb in his leg, he jammed his foot on the gas, then grabbed Liz as she jerked to the side and came dangerously close to falling out. “Oh, no you don’t.”
Settled into his side, Liz gave him a shaky smile, then turned and looked behind them. “Suck it, Bertha!”
“I take it Eli’s got chickens.”
Liz turned back around, collected the crutches, and deposited them in the back before running her hands through her hair. “No. They’re Mabel’s. She lives catty-corner to Eli’s, and they sometimes sneak out through her fence.”
“You don’t say.” Carson shook his head. “I didn’t know they were able to get that much air time.”
She scrubbed her scalp. “I swear they must practice.”
“What, like a chicken militia?”
Liz snorted.
“Sure. It’s funny now. Wait until they get their SWAT team set up. It’ll be pure nightmare fuel.”
“Oh, my God,” Liz groaned. “I can see the headline now. Virginia Town Wiped Out by Killer Chickens.”
Carson shifted, wincing as the throb in his leg picked up its intensity. “Seriously. Those things are a menace.”
“I know. Town council keeps trying to get them outlawed, but she keeps finding loopholes. I swear she must have an attorney on retainer for those chickens.”
“Only in Cloverfield.”
Liz nudged his arm. “Admit it. You missed this.”
“Getting assaulted by a gang of chickens? I don’t think so.” Although if someone were to hold a gun to his head, he might admit that these past few hours hadn’t been the worst of his life. The whole bird thing aside, of course.
Liz directed him down a few side streets, and he let her chatter about who lived where and was doing what while trying to keep his cool.
Because now that the heat of battle was behind them, he couldn’t help noticing how close she was sitting.
How the space between them gradually disappeared.
How much he liked it. How it reminded him of when they dated.
How they fit together. How comfortable it all was.
And her arm. Every time she moved it to gesture to another house or business, it rubbed against his. Even through their jackets, he felt a little zing of warmth. It felt good. Made him feel connected. Something he was beginning to realize he hadn’t felt in a really long time.
“Aaaaaand this is me again.” With a smile, she hopped out of the cart. “So, uh, do you want to come in?”
Did he? If she asked that a few days ago, he’d have thought it was a trap.
But now? Now it seemed genuine. But what if she was just being nice?
What if he was reading something into the whole situation that wasn’t there?
Not that there was anything there. No, it was him getting nostalgic over a bunch of non-sexy rubbing and touching.
God, he was lame.
“You know what?” Liz said. “Forget I asked. I’ve got tons to do, and I’ll bet you do too. I’ll see you around.”
She turned on her heel and before Carson’s brain cells managed to spark back to life, she disappeared inside.
He stared at her door for several seconds, trying to figure out what was wrong with him. It didn’t take long. The answer was something he’d known deep down for a long time.
He was an idiot.
Liz sagged against her front door and lightly banged her head against it. Why am I such an idiot? How had she managed to take a perfectly innocent afternoon and turn it into a moment that left her feeling like an awkward teenager?
Mabel’s damn attack chickens, that’s how.
One minute they were puttering along, reliving old memories while introducing Carson to town updates, and the next, they were fighting for their lives.
While she was focused on not losing an eye or a chunk of hair during the throes of warfare, afterwards she noticed a change in atmosphere. She thought she had, anyway.
Manspreading usually drove her mad, but having Carson’s thigh nudging hers was comforting. It felt like home.
Then there was the shoulder touching. Yet another point of contact that both set off sparks of electricity and managed to calm her at the same time. It was a distinctly weird combination that she hadn’t felt with anyone since Carson.
Plus, had they almost kissed? Before Big Bertha made her presence known, her lips were millimeters from Carson’s. Good thing she paused when she did, because clearly she’d read the situation wrong.
She pushed herself off the door with a sigh of disgust. Not only had she read the definitely not almost a kiss wrong, but then she asked him inside. To her house! And made the entire thing weird.
He’d gotten that same expression of terrified disbelief on his face when Kristi Jenkins threw herself at him at junior prom.
Ugh. Just when they managed to get back on semi-even footing again.
If she was lucky, he’d pretend nothing happened and they could both go on with their lives. If she was super lucky, he’d leave town today and she wouldn’t see him again.
Somehow, she doubted the fates would treat her that kindly.
So, she did what any self-respecting woman in her situation would do.
She marched into the kitchen, stress-ate a couple of Larissa’s cupcakes she bought the other day, and threw herself into Arnold’s finances.
After all, the sooner she got his business issues sorted out, the sooner his nephew could stop haunting her thoughts.