“Was there something else you wanted?” he drawled.
Maybe it was the way he’d said the words, all soft and lazy. It made her think he would stay if he had the right incentive. But what else did she want?
Cal in her bed, that was what else she wanted, but she didn’t tell him that. He looked a little too smug. She wasn’t sure what his game was, but she wasn’t playing, at least not this time.
“Is it always this quiet?” she asked instead.
“Quiet?”
She thought for a moment he’d leave, but instead, he half sat on the wooden rail that ran the length of the porch. “It’s not quiet at all. Listen.”
She did but still didn’t hear anything. She shook her head. “What am I listening for?”
“A sparrow is angry. Another bird is probably trying to steal her nest. Can you hear her?”
She cocked her head to the side. The bird was raising a big fuss. “Yes, I can.” Strange that she hadn’t heard any birds earlier. “She does sound put out, doesn’t she?”
“And look over there in that pile of leaves and sticks. There’s a squirrel foraging for nuts.”
She followed where he pointed and stared for a few minutes. It was getting dark enough that she could barely see. But sure enough, a squirrel popped its head up.
“The chickens have already bedded down for the night,” he told her. “But you’ll see and hear them in the morning when you gather the eggs.”
“Gather the eggs?”
“They have nesting boxes. It’s not that hard. You just reach beneath them and take the eggs.”
Eggs didn’t sound nearly as good as she had thought they would. “Don’t they bite…or something?”
He grinned as though she’d said something funny. How the hell was she supposed to know what chickens did?
“They might peck, but most of them don’t mind if you get their eggs.”
She was stealing their eggs, then eating them. Murdering their offspring. Of course, they probably wouldn’t mind. Uh-huh, sure.
“See you in the morning.” He straightened and went to his pickup.
She couldn’t think of another excuse for him to stay and keep her company. Unless she wanted to rip off her clothes and throw herself at him. She wasn’t quite that desperate-yet.
Nikki could only watch him drive away. At least it wasn’t quiet anymore. No, now she heard all kinds of animals making noise, rustling in leaves. Critters. She missed the quiet.
She went inside and walked to the back door, then stared at the shadowed outhouse. She’d have to use the flashlight so she could see the path.
How much water would she need to take in to ward off dehydration but keep her from having to go to the outhouse as often?
Procrastination didn’t sit well with her.
With determination, she grabbed the flashlight and went out onto the back porch. She gritted her teeth and stepped off, then marched down the path. She could do this. It wasn’t as though she was made of glass. Anything Cal said she had to do, she would do. She was made of sterner stuff than he could even imagine.
She swung the door open and stepped inside.
Oh, Lord, it was worse than she’d remembered. Her eyes crossed as a shiver of revulsion made her tremble from head to foot. She clamped her lips together.
All she had to do was hold her breath. She swam at the gym pool all the time and she could hold her breath a long time. She jerked her skirt up and her panties down, then gingerly sat over the hole, careful not to get a splinter. That’s all she needed-an infected ass. Try explaining that one.
Oh, God, she needed to breathe.
Why the hell had she drunk so much water?
She hurried to finish, then yanked her panties up and her skirt down, opened the door, and was halfway down the path before she inhaled. Fresh air.
She stumbled to the back porch, falling across it as she inhaled mouthfuls of sweet air. She finally had her oxygen levels back up to normal and pushed to a sitting position, frowning.
This really sucked.
Bzzzzzz.
She waved her hand in front of her face.
Bzzzzzz.
A mosquito as big as a fly landed on her arm. Nikki swatted it, but his brother attacked her other arm. Great, she’d probably end up with West Nile virus on top of an infected ass!
She jumped to her feet and hurried inside the cabin, closed the door, and reached for the lock. Not that she thought the mosquitoes could open the door, but she wasn’t too keen on burglars or whatever they had in the country. Cattle rustlers, maybe.
No lock. It figured. Not that anyone would have trouble getting inside. Hell, sneeze and the place would probably collapse into a pile of toothpicks.
Marge had told her to come home if things got too bad. Maybe she would take her up on it. She collapsed in the chair, resting her head on the table. Who was she kidding? To leave would be running away and that wasn’t in her character.
So, she’d stay. At least for a while longer.
A bath would help. She felt as though she wore at least one layer of dirt. She leaned sideways and eyed the stove.
Hot bath?
Okay, she’d settle for a cold wash. How bad could it be? Especially if she hurried.
Real bad, she found out a few minutes later. The water was freezing. More so than city water. But she did the best she could, then quickly crawled beneath the quilt on the bed to get warm again.
She was physically and mentally exhausted. She only wanted to sleep. Tomorrow would be a better day.
It damned sure couldn’t be any worse!
She yawned, closing her eyes, then smiled as she immediately visualized Cal sauntering toward her. She snuggled deeper beneath the cover. Umm, nice dream.
“Cock-a-doodle-do!”
Nikki came straight up in bed. She was being robbed! Someone had broken inside her apartment and in the next minute, the robber would be in her room to do all kinds of bodily harm. Her gaze flew around the semi-dark room.
This wasn’t her apartment.
She’d been kidnapped. Drugged and brought to this…this dump.
Escape! She stumbled out of bed, dragging the quilt with her, and rushed outside, almost falling off the porch.
She caught her balance and whipped first to the right, then left. Okay, she hadn’t been kidnapped. She was at the cabin on the dude ranch. But someone had still screamed out…or something.
She had to get out of there. Where were her car keys? Where…
“Cock-a-doodle-do!”
She spun around, almost tripping herself as the quilt tangled with her legs. She kicked it out of the way and shoved her hair out of her eyes.
“Cock-a-doodle-do!”
This was her thief? Her intruder? A friggin’ rooster?
She looked at the sun, which was just barely peeking over the horizon, then back at the blasted bird. He thrust his chest out and pranced back and forth along the top rail of the wooden fence. Several chickens stood on the ground below as if adoring this wonderful spectacle of arrogant feathers.
She jerked the quilt around her shoulders more securely and glared at the feathered Romeo. He drew in a deep breath and let loose with another screeching yodel. The chickens cackled, apparently thinking he’d performed some grand feat.
Enough was enough. She usually slept until at least eight. Her gaze fell to the ground. She smiled, picked up a rock, and when the bird inhaled again, let it fly.
The rooster squawked, fell off the fence, kicked twice, and lay silent.
Oh, crap!
Her hand flew to her mouth. She hadn’t meant to kill the blasted bird, only scare it. In all her life, she’d never murdered anything.
She let the quilt fall and rushed over to the fence. The chickens glared at her. She squatted next to the rooster. Could you do CPR on a bird? She didn’t think she wanted to try. She’d have to live with her guilt.
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