Shoving him aside, I climb into the front seat beside Jody. No way am I sitting on the small bench seat with Colt and two giant birds. Once Colt is in, Mr James peels out of the parking lot like a bat out of hell, chortling at the situation.
“Woo! Haven’t done anything that reckless in years,” he laughs.
“Welcome to my life.”
Gobble-gobble.
“What are we going to name them Em?”
“What?”
“The turkeys? They need names.”
“We can’t keep them.”
“Why not?”
“We have no room for them. They can’t live on the balcony with the chickens.”
“I can’t liberate them and leave them orphans Em. What kind of monster do you think I am?” he says before whispering to the turkeys. “It’s okay, little birds. I’ll keep you safe.”
I glance over my shoulder at him to find him sitting in the middle of the two turkeys. Arms slung over the both of them and their heads nuzzling his. I screw my nose up and shake my head.
“You had a turkey sub for lunch yesterday. And chicken for dinner. You eat them.”
Colt gasps and presses his hands to the sides of the turkey's heads as though he’s covering their ears. “Watch your mouth.”
“We’ll discuss this later,” I tell him, but I’m fully aware that I will give in and let him keep them. Somewhere. They can not live in the apartment with us. It’s bad enough that we have to take the chickens for walks two or three times a day. I do not want to come home from work to find Colt in the bath with a turkey.
Chapter Four
Colt
Impulse control is a real problem. I didn’t think it through and now I have two jealous chickens staring down two turkeys five times their size. Sussing them out. I swear Clyde scratches his claw on the floor, back and forth like he’s preparing to charge.
It’s going to be a Christmas massacre. Not a miracle.
Oops.
“Maybe we should put the turkeys in the garage,” dad says, eyeing them as they strut around the living room giving Clyde and Jordan evil stares.
Are turkeys evil?
Did I unintentionally bring monsters into the house?
“Can they survive out there? I didn’t save them just to let them freeze to death.”
“If you don’t, Jody and Em might be preparing chicken for Christmas dinner.”
“Good point.”
I step into the kitchen and make my way over to Em. She’s peeling potatoes and helping Jody prepare food. Squeezing her hip, I lean in and press a kiss to her cheek. “Dad and I are going to fix the garage for the turkeys.”
She turns her face to mine and smiles at me. “Okay.”
I press my lips to hers and she sighs. Angling her body closer to mine, she drops the knife she’s using to peel the vegetables to the counter with a clatter and winds her fingers through my hair.
I push into her until back she’s pressed against the bench, my hands digging into her hips as I explore her mouth with my tongue, until... “Ahem,” dad clears his throat loudly, interrupting us.
I pull back breathing hard and press my forehead to hers, chuckling as she whispers, “Oh, my god. So embarrassing.”
Em slaps my chest, making me laugh harder. I wrap my arms around her, hugging her tight and press a kiss to the top of her head. “We’ll finish this later.”
Releasing her, I turn to face dad. He’s smiling and trying to hold back his laugh. “Let’s go, old man,” I say, patting his shoulder as I pass him.
“Timber!” I call as the tree falls. Why do they shout that when a tree is falling? It’s not like we don’t know trees are made of timber? Why not shout tree? Or look out? Hell, screaming out duck would make more sense than timber. People said stupid shit sometimes.
“Think the girls will forgive us when we bring this in?” Dad asks, toeing the fallen tree. After we set the turkeys up in the garage, he decided it was a good idea to find a Christmas since our mini crime spree put a stop to us going back to the market.
I shrug, tapping my hands on my legs. “A tree’s not really my style of apologizing but yeah this should smooth things over.”
I lean down and grip the trunk, while dad grasps the top. We stumble and slide in the snow, tripping on ice-covered rocks, and broken branches as we make our way back to the cabin.
It takes us a few attempts to fit the tree through the door, but we eventually drag it inside and into the corner of the living room by the fire.
“Wow!” Jody says, clapping her hands together once as she comes to stand next to dad. “It’s beautiful.”
Dad wraps his arm around her and squeezes her shoulder. “Well, I did my part. You ladies to can decorate it. I’m taking Colt for a beer.”
Em winces. I rub my hands up and down her arms, comforting and reassuring her. She doesn’t like alcohol. I rarely drink, if ever because of it. “One drink. I promise.”
She nods and tilts her face up to mine. I press my lips to hers and it takes all my strength not to shove my tongue down her throat and strip her naked.
“Be safe,” she whispers, squeezing my hand as I step back.
“Always.” I grab my ball from the floor by the door and follow dad out to the truck.
The bar in town is quiet, the soft murmurs of three people playing pool in the corner and Christmas songs crackling over the outdated speaker system. It’s dark and smells of stale beer and peanuts. With the basketball resting on my hip, held in place by my left hand, I follow dad to a table in the corner.
He signals to the bartender who brings over two beers.
“You didn’t order anything?”
Dad rubs a hand over his face and chuckles. “They only have one beer on tap.”
I lift the beer to my lips and take a sip of the cold, bitter ale. It’s refreshing as it goes down my throat.
“So, you and Em?” Dad throws out casually.
I press my lips together and nod. “Yep.”
“You happy?”
“Yep.”
“You being careful?”
I nod.
“Look, son. I don’t want to get all dad on you but...”
I wince. I didn’t need this talk. Not now. Not ever. “Dad, it’s fine. We’re good.”
He shakes his head. “You know I love that girl like she’s my own daughter,” he says.
I screw my nose up and gag. “That’s gross considering what I do to her every night.”
“Colt...”
“And morning.” I shrug. “Sometimes during the day too.” What I plan on doing to her later.
“Colt!” Dad holds up his hand to stop me from speaking and I realize what I’m saying and to who.
I wince. “Sorry. Don’t tell Em. She’ll kill me.”
Dad throws his head back and laughs. “I won’t. I remember being your age once. Your mother and 1...”
I plug my fingers in my ears and squeeze my eyes shut. “La, la, la, la.”
Peeling an eye open, I check to see my dad’s stopped speaking. Thinking about him and mom like that is not something I want to do.
Gross.