“Sorry,” I decide, then add, “and yes, I’m scared of snakes.” I run my hands down my jean skirt, then smooth them over my hair, righting myself as Sadie’s words boomerang in my mind. “That snake is Sadie’s pet? And its name is… Smurf?”
Landry nods. “Yep.” He nudges the door open farther with his heel, and I know that’s my cue to go inside. If I’m waiting for a warm welcome, I may be waiting forever.
The sound of his footfalls on the wood floor behind me give me goose bumps, and when I enter the living room, I jump at what I see.
Landry moves past me and scoops up the fat chicken off the ground, freeing her out onto the back lawn. “Sadie! Put Leona in the coop!” he hollers before turning around and facing me. “Scared of chickens, too?”
I pull my camera out, lowering my bag to the ground near the couch, and snap a photo of Sadie in the lawn through the screen door, the halftone effect of the screen giving the photo a cinematic effect.
“No,” I explain, turning to face him as I loop the strap on the camera around my wrist. “But I had a bad experience recently and I’m just a little nervous, that’s all.” I don’t want this man thinking I can’t make his film because I’m scared of all things ranch life. And so far today, for my first visit alone, I’m 0 for 2.
Landry’s blue eyes narrow. “You’re stayin’ with Mabel, aren’t ya?”
I nod.
The smirk that curves his lips is gorgeous, and my face relaxes a little just enjoying him. I really have no idea how cowboys’ wives get anything done, honestly. “You met Mr. McCharger, I'll take it.”
My eyebrows shoot to my hairline. “You know him?”
Landry snorts. “He ain’t a celebrity.”
“He’s a devil chicken,” I retort, glancing out the window to see Sadie and the little girl next door making a daisy chain in the lawn.
“He’s a rooster,” Landry corrects, folding his arms over his chest in a way that makes my toes curl in my boots. “You don’t know much about animals, do you?”
I lift up my Cyber-shot, smiling as I capture the little girls. “I know about making films.”
“Fair enough,” he says, pushing off the wall to poke his head outside. “Sadie, bring Big Bertha up to the house for a second.” He turns to me, nudging a chair away from the table with his boot. “Have a seat.”
I hook a thumb over my shoulder, toward the direction of his barn. “I was hoping to get some more photos today.”
He lifts his hat from his head, sitting on the kitchen table over a large stack of open envelopes and bills. “I wanna talk to you, then I’ll set you loose, and you can take photos of whatever you want.”
You, naked.
Stop it, Quinn.
“Sounds good.” I tug my fingers through my hair nervously, and smile. “Sounds good.”Crap, I just said that.
Without a word, he moves around in the kitchen, sweat still sliding down his bare arms, making his tattoos shine. He reaches into the fridge, bringing out a pitcher of what looks like iced tea, and snatches two glasses from the open-air shelving above the sink. We sit in unison at the table, and he pours us each a glass as Sadie rushes up to the screen, dragging her nose down like a piggie.
“What’s up, Daddy?”
He pours the tea, and these amazing little veins bulge along the tops of his forearms, so I turn to Sadie and pay more focus on her so that I don’t find myself romanticizing the man that is just my job for a few months.
“Tell Miss Quinn how to know the difference between a rooster and a chicken.”
My cheeks flame, and I’m not sure why. Sadie comes inside, keeping one little foot in the door. She lifts a piece of hair from my hair and holds it up above me. “Rooster” she says, then releases my hair, and adds, “chicken.” And with that, she runs off, the screen door rattling the table and floor as it slams closed.
“Roosters have head and tail feathers that stick up, and chickens don’t, in case you didn’t get that from her demonstration,” Landry says, getting comfortable in the wooden chair next to me.
“Got it.” I sip the tea and my eyes water from the sugarytaste. “Whoa,” I breathe, blinking rapidly to dry my eyes. “This is sweet.”
Landry clanks his glass against mine. “Sweet tea.” Bringing the sweating glass to his lips, he takes exactly three drinks and it’s gone. The slow bob of his Adam’s apple sliding down his sweaty throat is making me think of very unprofessional,deleted X-rated scenestype of stuff. I avert my eyes from the porn show next to me, and find myself looking at the edge of a bill that’s peeking out from beneath his hat, which he took off and dropped on the table a moment ago.
PAST DUE!is stamped at the bottom in aggressive, red ink, and next to it, another stamp, this one also in FUCK YOU red, saying,OVER 120 DAYS.
The pile of bills are yanked away, and I look up to see Landry’s blue eyes set on me as he tosses them onto the ground, out of sight.
