Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 106538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 533(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
“There!” I point.
“Good job,” Ozzy whispers, stealthily approaching the two hens pecking in the grass.
They start to bolt in the opposite direction, but Ozzy makes a funny clicking sound and squats with his hand open, spilling feed onto the ground. Both chickens strut toward him, so I slowly crouch down and open my hand to them.
The buff one pecks at the feed, and I jump with a giggle as it tickles my hand.
Ozzy’s grin swells to the most handsome proportions. It feels tangible.
“The food’s almost gone. We’d better pick them up,” I say.
“You’re right.” Ozzy doesn’t hesitate. He’s the original chicken wrangler—hands pressed to Slim’s wings while tucking her close to him.
“Eek!” I squeal when I don’t get Kentucky’s wings pressed to her body the first time, and they flap in my face.
“Got it?” Ozzy asks.
After a quick adjustment, I nod. “Yeah.”
As we make our way back to Reagan’s, Ozzy says, “Don’t forget to pet Kentucky.” He strokes Slim’s back.
“I’m too afraid to loosen my hold. Poor Kentucky will just have to settle for an emotionless rescue. Besides, should we reward them for running away?”
“You’re a real hard-ass.” Ozzy laughs.
“I’m decisive and firm. That’s what my boss says about me.”
“Well, my boss says you’re a badass.”
I glance up at him. “Taylor said that?”
“He sure did.”
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from overflowing pride. It’s always gratifying to hear men compliment women in jobs that have been dominated by men forever.
“You found my little rascals! I was about to give up. Thank you so much.” Reagan opens the door to the pen.
“You’re welcome,” Ozzy says while we set them on the ground. “Maren spotted them. She’s got a great eye.”
I roll my great eyes. It was luck. “Good night,” I say to Reagan.
“I owe ya, neighbor.”
“You don’t,” I say while pivoting and leading Ozzy back to my house.
“I wondered what dating would be like after all these years,” Ozzy says. “It’s a lot different than I remember.”
I giggle, kicking off my sneakers and heading to the kitchen to wash my hands while he follows me. “Our pizza is cold.”
“Who cares? I’d eat anything. Wrangling chickens works up an appetite.”
I pass him the dish towel, and his hand touches mine. For a few seconds we stand idle, both holding the towel, skin on skin. It’s simple and innocent, yet electrifying. Attraction is addictive. It’s a slow dance to a favorite chorus, one note—one heartbeat—at a time.
Before my blush hits the boiling point, I turn and sit at the table.
He joins me. “I have to leave soon,” he says before eating his pizza.
I glance at my watch. It’s nine fifteen.
“I said I’d be home by ten.” He corkscrews his lips.
“Well, your clothes should be dry.”
He nods. “We should do this again.”
“Minus the chickens?”
“If being with you involves chickens, then I’ll deal with chickens.”
Tipping my chin to hide my smile, I murmur, “For someone who hasn’t been on a date in years, you’re pretty good at it.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.” I lift my gaze. “It’s effortless. You say all the right things, not because you’re trying. It’s just”—I shrug—“kind people say nice things, and you’re a genuinely kind person, Ozzy Laster.”
He adjusts in his chair, an uncomfortable squirm. “Whatever you think I’m saying that’s so right and effortless, it’s dumb luck.” When his eyes meet mine, we hold each other’s gaze for a few seconds of silence.
“Well.” I break it first, picking at the toppings on my half-eaten slice of pizza. “Luck is on your side.”
“And yours.”
I laugh. “How do you figure?”
“I had your back in the men’s room.”
I flick a black olive at him, and he jerks to the side so it lands on the floor behind him. “I thought we weren’t ever going to talk about it again.”
“You’re the only one talking about it.” He slides out of his chair and picks the olive off the floor. “I just mentioned it. There’s a difference. Anyhow, I have to go. Thank your roommate for loaning me clothes.” Ozzy disappears into the laundry room.
Minutes later, he emerges in dry clothes, except for his wet jacket, which is still on the porch. I get a good look at his shirt for the first time and laugh.
“You fix things. Good to know. I hope you fix them well, since my life sort of depends on it.”
He steps onto the porch with me right behind him. “Your safety is my number one priority. It was before we ever met. And now that I’ve met you, I’m going to drive every other mechanic crazy with my constant need to check and recheck everyone’s work. In return, you have to prioritize your safety too. You have to do your part.” He finishes tying his boots and scrunches his nose while threading his arms through his wet coat.
To keep from touching him, because I fear I wouldn’t be able to stop, I busy my hands with his zipper, working it up his torso like dressing a child. “Thanks for the flowers.” Our proximity hits me when I meet his gaze, stealing my breath. I let go of his zipper and take a step back.