Ben, flailing slightly, finally peeled the chicken off his shoulder.
I cleared my throat. “Hi, Sienna.”
“You made him go into the coop?” she asked, delighted.
“It was his idea.”
Ben groaned. “Lies.”
I stepped forward, brushing some feathers from his shirt. “He was trying to be helpful.”
Sienna smirked. “I don’t know whether to be impressed or call animal control.”
Ben straightened up, rake still in hand, feathers in his hair, and egg slowly crusting on his collar. “I feel like I took some unspoken test and failed it spectacularly.”
I leaned in and whispered, “You still passed. You just need a debriefing, a tetanus shot, and maybe a drink.”
Sienna nodded slowly, backing away like she’d just witnessed a strange but oddly romantic wildlife documentary.
“I’ll leave you to it. But Fifi?” she called as she walked off.
“Yes?”
“If he proposes,definitelyget the chickens in the engagement photos.”
Ben muttered something about “never trusting hens again,” and I was laughing so hard I almost dropped the corn sack.
It wasn’t pretty.
But somehow, it felt perfect.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Ben
I didn’t do this kind of thing.
Surprises. Picnics. Sentimental gestures that required coordination and timing, and someone’ssisterto stall long enough to keep her out of the kitchen.
But for Fifi?
I’d risk an ambush by her moody chickens again if it meant making her smile.
The sun was already warm, climbing steadily toward a late-summer high, and the lake shimmered just beyond the tree line like it knew we were coming. I adjusted the grip on the wicker basket in my hand and scanned the path leading from the lodge.
Any second now—
“There you are,” Fifi’s voice rang out, followed by the familiar thud of her boots on the wooden steps. “You’ve been suspiciously quiet all morning.”
I turned, grinning as she came into view—messy bun, cutoff shorts, oversized T-shirt knotted at her hip, and a slight smudge of flour on her cheek. She slowed when she spotted me holding the picnic basket and looked past me toward the trail.
Her eyes narrowed.
“What did you do?”
I feigned innocence. “Is that how you greet a man offering carbs and fresh air?”
She folded her arms. “Sienna wouldn't let me near the guest picnic baskets this morning. Said I was banned from the kitchen.”
