“Great,” I muttered under my breath. “The one morning I don’t spritz on perfume or attempt a personality.”
Ben stopped a few feet away, hands tucked into his pockets, eyes scanning me in that quiet, unreadable way he had, like he was taking stock of the entire moment, grass-stained knees and all.
“You okay?” he asked, voice gravelly and not nearly as judgmental as I’d feared. “Heard shouting.”
“Oh. That. Yep,” I said, overly peppy. “Just me, fighting for my life. You know as one does. Rural setting. Feathered enemies. Very common.”
He raised an eyebrow.
I realized, with growing horror, that my shirt was askew and my boot was untied. Also, there was hay in my hair. Possibly a twig.
“I was visiting our rescue animals,” I said, as if that explained everything. “It’s part of the charm. A hands-on, behind-the-scenes, eco-wholesome experience. We call it Farm and Flee.”
Ben blinked. “Farm and what?”
“Nothing,” I said quickly. “I meant Farm and Fleet. It’s a Midwest thing. Very normal. Nothing dramatic happened.”
A beat.
Then he tilted his head just slightly. “So… you weren’t being chased by a chicken?”
“I was tactically retreating.”
Another beat. This time, his lipstwitched, with the smallest, briefest flicker of amusement. A blink-and-you’ll miss it micro-smirk.
It should have annoyed me. It didn’t.
It flustered me.
I cleared my throat and straightened my spine, which was a bold move considering I was standing in a pile of my own shoe’s dignity.
“What do you need?” I asked, trying to keep my voice even. “You’re not due for your fluffing session until later.”
Ben’s brows pulled together, confused. “My what?”
“Room refresh,” I amended. “Towels. Soap. I broughtsoap.You were there. It was a whole thing.”
He studied me for a moment longer, then said, “Didn’t come looking for soap.”
“Oh?” I shifted on my feet. “Then what brings you out here to the animal kingdom? Lost? Stalking me? Moved by the powerful scent of hay and goat breath?”
He looked down at his boots, then back up at me, calm and unreadable again.
“I went for a walk.”
“Sure.”
“And I heard screaming.”
“Exaggerated yelling.”
“And I saw a small bird try to murder you.”
“She’s medium-sized,” I mumbled.
“I figured I’d check you weren’t being pecked into the afterlife.”
My heart betrayed me with a flutter.
