AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I don’t know. Maybe someone had it in a garage or carport.” Chase is leaning over, reaching for the edge of the board where it’s not sticky so he can hold it steady. “She was probably going after the bugs on it and got stuck.”
“Will the oil get her off?” No matter how hard the poor bird flails, she can’t free herself of the board.
“I don’t know. Figure it’s worth a try.” He pours some of the oil on the sticky surface and rubs it around before very gently pulling the bird’s foot free.
I’m scared and horrified for the small creature, bending over to watch. I make a whimpering sound when the bird reacts frantically to being touched.
“I’m sorry, girl,” Chase murmurs as he works. “Hold on just a second and I’ll get you loose.”
To my relief, he frees the other foot and then works on the wing. As soon as he’s pulled the feathers from the stickiness, the bird flaps away in a panic.
“Oh, thank goodness.” I watch the bird as she lands in a nearby tree. “Poor baby. That must have been a nightmare for her.”
Chase scowls slightly as he folds up the board so the sticky side is no longer accessible. “Yeah. Glad we could rescue her.” He hands me back my bottle of oil and walks to the side of the house to throw the board away in my outside trash can.
I’m wide-awake as we go back inside and wash our hands. I wipe down the oil bottle with a disinfectant wipe just to be safe before putting it back in the cabinet.
“Thanks for helping the little bird,” I tell him as he’s drying his hands.
“It was your oil.”
“But you’re the one who saw her and knew what to use to free her. It was your rescue mission, not mine.”
I pick up the pot of coffee that brews every morning at six forty-five and hold it up to him in a wordless question. When he nods, I pour him a cup in addition to mine.
He drinks his black. I like just a little half-and-half.
“And thank you for the donut.”
“Got one for Grandma too.”
“Oh yeah? What kind?” I lean over to check the grocery bags.
He clears his throat, and it sounds significant, so I glance up at him. He’s staring fixedly at a spot over my head.
“What’s wrong with you?” I ask.
“You’re coming loose.” He gestures vaguely toward my robe.
I glance down and suck in a gasp as I see that my tie has gotten loose and the robe is gaping open, exposing far more of my chest than is appropriate for company. “Sorry about that.” I tighten the robe, feeling flushed but telling myself it’s no big deal.
Chase is being polite. Not looking. We’ve known each other all our lives and have never thought of each other romantically or sexually. That’s never been who we are.
I’m not sure why I’m hot and jittery over a minor wardrobe mishap.
“I’m decent,” I tell him. “Sorry about that.”
“No worries.” He looks at me again, bland and relaxed and very Chase-like. “I’m the one who showed up while you were getting dressed.”
“That’s true.” I glance at my phone to check the time. I’m running ten minutes late from my normal schedule, but it was worth it to save the little bird.
“You can jump back into your morning routine if you need to,” Chase says easily over the rim of his coffee mug. “I’ve probably already made you late.”
“I’m okay.” I do feel a slight tug of anxiety—the way I always feel when I’m not right on schedule—but I ignore it because it’s irrational.
“Uh-huh.” Once again, his eyes are smiling but not his mouth.
“I am okay. You shouldn’t make fun of me.”
