Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 76075 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76075 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
I shook my head. “I don’t have enough time to devote to that kind of endeavor. I’ve read that it takes hours and hours, and I work a full-time job, sometimes more than full-time, and I have responsibilities with the volunteer fire department, the MC, and a boy’s and girl’s club in Kilgore at least twice a week.”
Her mouth fell open. “You volunteer?”
I nodded. “I do.”
“You don’t strike me as the type,” she admitted.
I wasn’t offended. I didn’t strike anybody as the type.
“I’m aware,” I said dryly. “You should’ve seen the first time that I walked into that boy’s and girl’s club. Swear to God, I thought the director was going to try to hide all of the kids behind her.”
Phoebe started to giggle, her hand covering her mouth and her eyes shining. “Oh, I’m sure that you thought you’d just walk in there and everybody would be cool? Did you wear that?”
She gestured at my uniform.
“No.” I shook my head. “I wore normal, everyday clothes. Blue jeans and a black shirt. I even changed my motorcycle boots for work boots. I looked about as unintimidating as one could look.”
It was after another ten minutes of discussing his boy’s and girl’s club that he volunteered with that I finished off the last morsel on my plate, and then reached for my purse to offer to pay.
Bayou waved me away. “Don’t even think about it.”
My brows rose. “Think about what?”
His lips quirked as if he was about to smile. “You know what.”
I blinked innocently at him. “Sorry, but you’re going to have to spell it out for me. I’m just a wee female who doesn’t have the same education as men.”
He snorted and handed forty dollars to the waitress. “Keep the change.”
The waitress winked at him. “Have a good night.”
When we stood and made our way to our vehicles, I could feel Bayou’s warmth against my back. He was so close that I could reach behind me and touch him.
“Do you know how to get to my dad’s place?” I questioned.
I was fairly sure that he’d been there once or twice before with Hoax, but I wasn’t absolutely sure.
And, if you were unfamiliar with the area, it could be kind of hard to find at first.
“Yes,” he answered, his words right in my ear.
I licked my dry lips and headed for my truck. He went to his bike that was one parking spot over from mine.
When he got to his bike, he swung on and glanced a look over at me. “Your truck tire is low.”
I looked at the tire he was staring at and sighed. “I think I ran over a nail or something. I haven’t actually found the source of the leak just yet, but I planned on taking it over to my dad anyway. I might have him look at it while I’m there.”
I got in the truck and started it up, revving it up as I did.
Bayou’s eyes raised in question.
I shrugged and rolled down the window. “It’s the only way I can keep it alive. I have to give it gas when it first starts or it doesn’t like to obey my commands.”
He shook his head and then made a ‘round up’ motion with his finger. I took that as ‘lead the way’ and started forward.
By the time I was at the parking lot entrance, he was behind me. By the time that we arrived at my dad’s place, I might’ve been just as excited as he was.
***
Bayou
She lifted her hand and the hawk launched itself from its perch and flew toward her. The hawk was on the larger side for the red-tailed hawk’s breed, and I wondered if that was due to being given good food on a regular schedule, or because it was just bigger in general.
I’d been doing some research on the healthiness of birds in captivity compared to their wild brethren.
“How much does she weigh?” I questioned.
“She weighs in at about two and a half pounds, last time I checked,” she answered immediately. “Looks heavier, huh?”
I nodded once, my heart pounding.
The glove she was wearing looked heavy-duty and thick, but seeing those claws digging into the glove, where her skin would be if she wasn’t wearing them, made me frown.
I didn’t like the idea of her being hurt, even inadvertently.
“Have you stopped hunting her for her to molt?” I questioned.
“Will you shut her mew?” Phoebe gestured to the bird’s enclosure.
I walked to the door and closed it instantly, then turned back to her.
“And to answer your question, we’re right at the time where I’d stop. I normally do it mid-September. I was going to take her out hunting tomorrow for the last time…but she won’t mind doing it today,” she answered.
If it wasn’t uncool to fist pump like a child, I might’ve done it in that second.