Page 154 of Saltwater Cowboy

I clapped a hand over my mouth, trying not to laugh. “Sweetheart, they’re not attacking you.”

“Then why is that one staring into my soul?” She jabbed a finger at Harriet, our meanest hen, who was, admittedly, giving her the world’s most judgmental glare.

I sighed, setting my coffee down on the porch. “Alright, hold on. Let me—”

Before I could even take a step, the chickens lost what little collective sense they had left and launched themselves into a full-scale uprising.

One flapped up and smacked Rose in the arm with its wing. Another hopped onto her bucket like it was a goddamn boxing ring and squared up.

Rose screamed.

I lost it. Bent over, hands on my knees, laughing so hard I could barely breathe.

“This isn’t funny, you traitor!” she yelled. “Do something!”

I wiped a tear from my eye, gasping. “Hang on, hang on—”

Then Harriet, deciding she was the main character, took flight.

And landed on Rose’s head.

Her entire body went rigid. “Wells.”

I sucked in a breath, biting my lip. “Yeah?”

“Get. It. Off.”

“Okay.” I stepped forward, trying to keep a straight face, but the second I reached for Harriet, she let out an ungodly squawk and flapped her wings—right into Rose’s face.

Rose flailed, lost her balance, and toppled off the bucket into a pile of hay.

I stood frozen, hands half-raised, watching as she lay there in stunned silence. Chickens scattered. Feathers drifted in the air like we’d just survived a damn barnyard battle.

Then Rose sat up, her face red, hair a mess, a single rogue feather sticking out of her bun.

“I hate it here.”

I finally lost it again, doubling over in laughter. “Oh my—”

“I’m breaking up with you.”

That just made me laugh harder. “We’re not even dating.”

Rose groaned, flopping back into the hay. “Well, whatever it is that we are, we’re done.”

I smirked, crossing my arms. “So that’s it? You’re just gonna let the chickens win?”

“Yes.” She threw a dramatic arm over her face. “Tell my family I loved them.”

I huffed out a laugh, nudging her with the toe of my boot. “C’mon, get up.”

“No. I live here now. The hay is my home. The chickens are my overlords.”

I crouched down beside her, grinning. “You sure? ‘Cause I was gonna make breakfast, but I guess I’ll just eat alone…”

Rose peeked at me from under her arm. “What kind of breakfast?”

I pretended to think about it. “Bacon. Pancakes. Maybe some of those hashbrowns you like…”