The animal shelter tour was . . . enlightening.
Things were certainly different here. I didn’t know whether that was because this was a city compared to the rural outskirts of El Paso where I was from or because this was California—or both.
Either way it was certain I wasn’t in Texas anymore. Here, cats were caged instead of allowed to run free and catch mice the way nature intended. And, apparently, goats were pets, not livestock.
I figured that last part out when a guy about my own age walked up and gave Aubrey a big kiss on the mouth. But that wasn’t the strange part—unless this guy wasn’t her husband. Then that would have been odd but again—California.
“David, I’d like to introduce you to my husband. This is Chance Bateman. Chance, this is David Strickland. He’s making a very generous donation to the shelter.”
“Nice to meet ya,” he said in an Australian accent. “And this is Aubrey and my first child, Pixy.”
As he introduced me to the leashed goat, I laughed. I shook his hand and eyed the goat, that seemed more interested in spinning in circles than meeting me—not that I could blame the little bugger.
“Not the kind of introduction I was expecting, especially not in this state,” I said.
“David is a native Texan, born and raised,” Aubrey explained to her husband.
I lifted a brow. I hadn’t told her that. Not that it was a secret, not at all, but it told me Aubrey had done her research on me.
No doubt she’d made sure she knew everything there was publicly to know about Strickland Feed before our meeting. And she still wanted my money.
Was that because only an idiot said no to a million dollars and a shed full of food? Or because she hadn’t lost faith in Strickland after the incident? Amazing since I still struggled with losing faith myself.
I’d have to mull that one over later.
Now, I had to be social—I hated being social and it was all I seemed to be doing lately. That was another problem I’d have to fix later.
I eyed the man who stood eye-to-eye with me. “I’ve been introduced to horses and dogs back in Texas. Even a bucking bull or two on occasion. Can’t say I’ve ever had the pleasure of officially meeting a man’s goat. But you California folk always do like to be a little different. Though, you’re not from around these parts, are you?”
“Yes and no.” He grinned. “But that’s a long story. So, Aubrey here give you the grand tour?”
“She did. It’s an impressive facility.” At least for this area where land cost more than gold and diamonds combined and was just as hard to come by.
“That’s all thanks to Aubrey’s dedication,” Chance said, shooting his wife a look ripe with devotion—or possibly lust. Hell, probably both.
She shook her head. “No. It’s a group effort. The volunteers. The donors—”
“Um, hello? I was wondering if someone could help me.” The familiar voice, even if the pleasant tone was new, had me whipping around.
Her eyes widened when she recognized me. All I could do was smile when I saw her. It was Little Miss Gas Station, in the flesh and not looking as self-assured as she’d been during our first encounter this morning.
“You,” she said, looking a bit confused.
“Me.” I grinned. “What do you need help with, darlin’? That little toy car of yours leave you stranded on the side of the road? Need my big gas guzzler to tow you?”
She must not have seen my truck since I’d parked it over at Aubrey’s office and we’d walked next door to the shelter. But the fact she was completely focused on me and not the goat on a pink sparkly leash spoke volumes.
My being here had unsettled her. Sick bastard that I was, I liked that idea.
Keep a woman on her toes and she’d never get bored. Though if she were my woman, I’d be tempted to keep her more often on her back.
“I can help. What do you need?” Aubrey asked, taking a step forward.
The woman managed to tear her gaze off me and answer Aubrey. “I’ve got a, um, chicken in my car. I’m not quite sure what to do with him.”
Aubrey’s brows rose. “Oh, well. I guess we could take him.” She glanced behind her. “Though I’m pretty sure we’re full up at the moment. Maybe I can get in touch with Emma. She’s our assistant manager. This is honestly a new one for me. I’m really not sure what we’d do with him.” Aubrey let out a short laugh.
So goats—normal. Chickens—not. Got it.
Yup. Everything here was pretty much the opposite of where I came from. If I just kept that in mind while I was here, I should be fine.
“Is he in a cage?” Aubrey asked.
“No. I caught him. He was running around on the beach. I figured sand and ocean water weren’t good for him. I managed to get him back to the condo, which isn’t even mine. I’m housesitting. And I was going to search the internet to see what to do with him. What to feed him and stuff. And figure out where to take him. Then he started crowing. And you have to understand, these condos sell for like a million dollars and there’s probably a homeowners’ association or something and like I said it’s not mine and I can’t get the homeowner kicked out of her home while she’s away on vacation and I’m watching her place because I put a rooster in her bathtub. And oh my gosh do you know how much roosters poop? The bathroom is a mess and he was only in there for like half an hour. Goodness knows what my car looks like. And no, he’s not in a cage. He’s flopping around in there. I almost ran off the road when he jumped onto the dashboard.”
She finally had to stop to take a breath. Meanwhile, I couldn’t control my laugh. The story, and its delivery in her manic city girl babble, was just too funny.
“You had him in the front with you? Loose?” I asked.
“Well, I couldn’t figure out how to put the seat belt on him so yes, he was loose.”
I controlled the renewed bubble of laughter that image caused and said, “I would’ve put him in the trunk. Or in a pillow case.”
“A pillow case?” She drew back like I’d suggested she cut off his head first.
“The dark confinement calms them down,” I explained so she didn’t think I was a monster. “Come on. I’ll get him outta the car for you.”
She glanced at Aubrey, as if looking for a signal she could trust me. Then she glanced at Chance.
What she thought I was going to do to her or her bird in broad daylight on a main road in front of witnesses I don’t know. City girls were a suspicious lot.
“Don’t look at me,” Chance said. “I draw the line at goats. Cocks are out of my realm of expertise. At least that variety.” He winked at his wife.
She shot her husband a warning glare full of censure then turned back to the woman. “To grossly understate things for simplicity sake, David is a chicken farmer back in Texas,” Aubrey explained. “He’s probably the best one here to handle this situation.”
“True.” I nodded, not doubting I was the only person there who had any experience at all with chickens. Well, except maybe the Aussie. He was a wild card.
My granddad’s place had started out as a chicken farm, before Pops had started the feed business, which had grown to be one of the top ten in this country—before our fall from grace took us down a notch . . . or three.
But I was here to fix that. And if rescuing a damsel and her rooster was what it took to raise Aubrey’s estimation of my character, then so be it.
“I promise, darlin’. I’m well versed in handling rowdy roosters.”
Her eyes popped wide again. It was almost too easy to shock this one.
“That’s what I named him. Rowdy,” she said.
“You named the rooster?” Now it was my turn to be surprised.
“Of course. I needed to call him something.” She looked at me like I was the nut.
Hell, maybe I was. I was certainly in the minority around here.
I didn’t tell her we didn’t name our chickens at the ranch. First of all, there were too damn many. Second, it seemed pointless to name them since—you know—they weren’t sticking around long.
Meanwhile, I still didn’t know her name. That was something I’d like to remedy.
“Where’s your car?” I asked, ready to get this rooster rescue started. And honestly, I really couldn’t wait to see what this loose bird had done to the inside of her little car.
It was definitely going to be amusing. At least to me. Her, not so much.
“Right out front.”
“Then come on.” I led the way, figuring she’d follow.
The sun was beating down on the car, so she’d left all four windows cracked and inch. Still, another few minutes and that car would have been beastly hot.
“You’re not supposed to leave live animals in a closed car.”
“I know that. But what was I supposed to do?”
“Take him with you,” I said, matter of factly as I reached for the door handle. The fucker was locked. I turned. “Can you please unlock the doors?”
“Oh, yeah.” She fumbled for her keys while mumbling, “I was only running inside for a minute.”
“It only takes a few minutes.” I glared over my shoulder and saw her scowl.
“I know. I’m sorry.”
Oh, yeah. This was going real well. It seemed the pretty lady and I were destined to be on opposite sides of pretty much any topic we encountered. So much for my asking her out for lunch—or to go anywhere else with me.
She finally clicked the fob and I heard the locks disengage.
The bird was already breathing heavy through his open beak. Probably as much from the stress of trying to get out of the confined space as from the building heat inside.
“Come here, little guy. Did this mean lady lock you in a hot car?” Yeah, I was poking the bear. Yes, I found it amusing.
Now that I saw the bird was okay I figured it didn’t hurt to tease her a bit.
There was a bit of flopping as I kneeled on the driver’s seat and reached into the passenger side to grab him.
I got both hands on him and brought him close to my body. Once I was standing again, I tucked his head beneath my arm. He went still in my grasp.
“He’s a beauty,” I said. And I meant it.
The colors were amazing. On the ranch we tended to raise the breeds that grew big and fast, and they tended to be white. This guy had deep shades of red and blue and green set off by a mixture of light and dark browns.
“Colorful as a peacock, aren’t you, boy? Bet the ladies like all your pretty tail feathers.” I talked as I walked and eventually stood at the door of the shelter.
Aubrey and Chance—and the goat—were in the doorway watching the procedure. She jumped to open the door for me, which was good since I kind of had my hands full.
Inside, I glanced around at the assembled group. “So, where do y’all want him?” I asked.
“Oh goodness. I don’t know. I haven’t even tried to call anyone who might know yet. The manager is off this morning.” Aubrey glanced around her. There wasn’t much more than a counter, a computer, and a couple of chairs.
“Put him down,” Chance suggested. “There’s not much he can hurt in here.”
Aubrey’s brows rose as she glanced at her husband.
“I’ll clean it up if the bugger poops. Promise.” The man must have read his wife’s mind.
“All right,” she agreed. “Let him loose. We’ll see what happens.”
I caught a glimpse of Rowdy’s temporary owner’s face and saw her hesitation.
“I’ll catch him again. No worries,” I said, to alleviate her concern.
She nodded and I bent at the waist and set the bird on the floor.
He blinked a few times, took a step and then realized humans circled him. So he did the one thing a bird might do in that situation—he took to higher ground.
He hopped up on the goat’s back and just stood there, looking around, as if he’d found his spot.
Chance laughed. “Well, look at that. Pixy’s got a passenger.”
The rooster settled in and went from standing to lying on the goat’s back. While the goat, amazingly, stood perfectly still and looked content.
“Pixy doesn’t seem to mind,” Aubrey said.
“Actually, he looks pretty comfy there.” The woman turned to Aubrey. “Thank you so much for taking him. I’m Heather Wilson, by the way.”
Finally. A name to go with the bad attitude and killer body.
Heather. I rolled it around in my mind the way I’d like to roll around with her.
“I’m Aubrey. And this is Chance. But, Heather, I’m not sure yet that we can take him.” Aubrey shook her head.
“Please,” Heather begged. “I don’t know what else to do. I can’t bring him back to the condo.”
Aubrey cringed. “I mean I guess we could buy a cage somewhere. The pet store maybe. Keep him out here in the lobby.”
“I’ll take him.” I’d said it before I’d completely thought it through. All I knew was I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to this little spitfire. The best way I could figure to keep in touch with her was to take possession of her rooster.
“You’d take him to your chicken farm?” Heather asked.
“My ranch is in Texas,” I said. “But while I’m here in California, I’m staying with a friend at his place. He’s got a barn and a whole flock of ladies this guy here might enjoy getting to know better.”
She glanced from Rowdy, who’d now fallen asleep on his furry perch, back to me. “Okay. I guess so.”
There was a hesitation in her voice. “What’s the matter? You don’t trust me? I promise I won’t lock him in a hot truck to roast.”
“It was only for a minute.” She glared at me then said, “I’m just sad to say goodbye. You think maybe I could call and check on him?”
Exchange numbers? Oh hell, yeah. I controlled my glee. Playing it cool. “Sure. You can even come visit him if you want. Make sure he gets settled in okay.”
“Really?” She looked excited. I know I was.
“Sure.” I nodded, even though this would all be a surprise to my host.
I could always call Drew from the road on my way there. We were good friends and more, Strickland was his biggest customer. He’d want to keep me happy even if we weren’t old buddies from college.
Besides, what’s one more chicken? He already had thousands.
“I’d like that.” She smiled.
Damn she was pretty when she wasn’t scowling at me. Hell, even then she was easy to look at.
“Good.” I tipped my head. After digging my cell out of my jean’s pocket, I handed it to her. “Put your number in there. I’ll text you the address.”
She took it and glanced up, and I was adrift in the ocean blue of her eyes. “Thank you. Seriously. I don’t know what I would have done.”
“My pleasure.” I watched her punch in her number. Yup. Truly all my pleasure.
I noticed the smirk on Chance’s face. He sent me a look that said he knew exactly what I was doing. He hadn’t missed how craftily I’d gotten her number.
Hey, save a lady’s rooster, she’s bound to be grateful.
Did the goat have something to do with how Chance had landed Aubrey? I had a feeling there was a story there. Meanwhile, I was anxious to see where my own story went with Heather.
A man and his cock walk into a shelter . . .
Hell of a beginning already, if you asked me.
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