“And I shouldn’t have.”
That irked me. “Yeah well, I don’t know anything about parrots.”
“All right.”
I let out an annoyed sigh and looked at him again. How unlike Neil. No fighting, no bitching, and he didn’t give me fuel to continue being an asshole. “My dad,” I said reluctantly. “He volunteers at a lot of pet shelters. I know one deals in exotic animals. I could ask him for the contact information. Maybe they can help.”
He smiled. “I’d like that. Thank you.”
I was home not much later, shoving open the front door and ushering Calvin in. “I need to take a shower,” I said while locking the door. “Uh, but if you need to go….” I glanced back at the door.
Why would he stay? He’d been with me all night, drove me home, and the man didn’t—
“I can stay for a bit.” Calvin unbuttoned his coat. “Go freshen up.”
One hot shower, a shave, and brushing of the awful taste out of my mouth later, I felt practically human. I popped in my red-tinted contacts and pulled on a pair of loose old Levi’s and a dark-colored long-sleeve shirt.
Opening the bedroom door, I stepped into the front room. “Look at me, good as new.”
Calvin was standing among the boxes of estate books, looking over my bookcase. His jacket was neatly draped over a chair at the table. “How do you feel?” he asked, turning my way.
“Like a crisp twenty-dollar bill.”
He shook his head, and I think he was laughing quietly. “You hungry?”
I shrugged, rubbing my stomach as it perked up at the mention of food. “I’ll get something later.”
“I can make breakfast.”
“What? No. Come on. You don’t need to do that.”
“I’m hungry too.” Before I could protest, Calvin was walking into the kitchen. He opened the fridge and leaned down to rummage around. “You should go shopping.”
“I did the other day, remember?”
“I recall frozen pizza and ice cream.”
“That’s right. I was having a crisis of the heart,” I said, standing in the doorway.
Calvin looked at me and smiled. “How’s the heart now?”
It actually was beating hard and making nervous flips all the way down to my gut. “O-Okay,” I managed.
He grabbed a carton of eggs and some onion and potatoes. “Scrambled eggs and home fries good?”
“Toast too.”
Calvin nodded and set the ingredients on the counter. He opened the cupboards, moving around like he knew my kitchen. He poured some oil into a pan and began chopping the potatoes.
I walked in and grabbed the bread off the top of the fridge. “So you can cook too?”
“You say that like you’re impressed.”
“I am.” I looked at him and grinned. “I never have guys cook me breakfast.”
“Millett doesn’t cook?”
“Ah, no, he doesn’t.”
