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The comment was laced with so much sarcasm it made my stomach sink. “Hey, don’t knock my pool.”
“Who doesn’t love bright neon blue swirls.” He cocked a brow.
Here at the zoo, we tried to create environments that resembled homes to our animals, and the white and blue did look like the icy arctic seas. “It looks like water.”
“To who?” He snorted.
With a roll of my eyes, I decided to ignore the snark. I picked up the cup and lifted the lid. “Is this a vanilla latte?”
“With almond milk.”
I set the cup down and frowned at the man bent down by the bird’s fence, studying him as he ran a hand over the scruff on his chiseled jaw.
“How’d you know?” I left the question at that. This was my drink. It was what I always ordered.
A lump formed in my throat as he turned and studied me. I could guarantee not one of my last three boyfriends would have remembered that I only drank almond milk. Yet this guy who barely knew me had somehow brought me my favorite latte?
“Lucky guess.” He shrugged and turned back to the bird.
In return, Puff was watching him, his little black and white head tipped to the side as if he was sizing up the big man. He hopped across the rock, getting close to Chris.
Puff had made a great recovery over the last three weeks. Although his wing didn’t lie completely flat like it should and his flight distance was more a long jump, in the water, he swam with ease, and his wing’s range of motion was almost at 100 percent.
Chris cleared his throat and shifted back onto his heels. “He seems good.”
I sipped my coffee and took him in: the suddenly rigid posture, what looked like a hint of a grimace on his face, and the distance he’d just put between himself and the bird. The unease that suddenly radiated off him had me wanting to show him that Puff was harmless. Especially since the two of them would have to get chummy really quickly when the photo shoot started in about twenty minutes.
“Here, watch this.” I stood and headed for Chris. Crouching beside him, I set my coffee cup on the floor. “Puff,” I called.
The little sweetie chirped in response.
“Hmm, seems like someone likes his name.” The sexy smirk that flitted across Chris’s face was impossibly smug.
“Don’t be cocky.” With an eye roll, I turned back to the habitat. “Puff,” I called again.
This time, the little bird jumped straight over to us.
Chris tensed beside me, but he didn’t back up.
“It’s okay. He won’t jump the fence unless I show him that he’s allowed.”
He pressed his lips together so tightly they almost turned white. Like maybe he was about to call me a liar. But I intended to show him exactly how well Puff’s husbandry behavior training was going. Once the little guy was directly across the fence from me, I waved my hand back and forth and turned my head along with it.
Almost instantly, Puff copied the motion, tipping his head left and then right.
I froze with my hands in the stop position, and when Puff stopped too, I dropped them at a right angle, then lifted them again. Puff followed, nodding his head up and down. Then I spun my pointer finger in a circle, and Puff jumped into the pool and swam in quick circles.
“You’re teaching the bird party tricks?” Chris snorted.
“We don’t call them that. They aren’t for entrainment. It’s cute, but it’s really so we can see how he moves his wings and his neck and back muscles. It’s referred to as husbandry behaviors. But he loves to show off.” With a laugh, I stood, reached over the fence, and rubbed Puff’shead. Then I tossed him a small fish from the little cooler next to the enclosure.
Puff barked his happiness and then took off into the water with his treasure.
“Should you feed him like that?”
I tilted my head and focused on Chris, who was frowning at me. “What do you mean?”
“Shouldn’t you wear gloves?”
