“I’m sorry, mate. No harm intended. Just trying to make sure my boy is okay.”

“Let’s take him back to see the doctor,” the woman said. She then ushered the man and his goat straight through.

Baaa. I could hear from down the hall.

By the time they brought Huey out, I felt ready to kill someone. My bird looked completely normal. A little hospital tag affixed to his cage read: Huey B. LaCroix.

B? What the hell does that stand for?

“He’s going to be just fine,” the nurse said. “Thank you for coming to get him. I know it was earlier than expected.”

I looked over at Huey and felt a little bad for doubting his need to come here, because he did look a lot better than the morning Elodie had brought him in. As much as I talked shit about him, I never actually wanted anything bad to happen. Some days I just wished he’d fly away to a happier place.

We were almost out the door when I heard it again. Baaa.

That damn goat was loud.

And again... Baaa.

Wait a minute.

It wasn’t coming from down the hall. It was coming from...Huey.

He opened his beak. Baaa.

What. The. Fuck?

I carried him back to the desk. “Excuse me. My bird has only ever said one thing his entire life. He’s hardly made another peep besides that one sentence, and now he’s making goat sounds because apparently he thinks it’s funny to mimic that…animal…back there. You want to tell me how I’m supposed to live with this?”

She shrugged. “Isn’t that typical of birds like him? They mimic things? It’s not really a problem.”

“It’s not? He comes here a bird and comes out a fucking goat, and it’s not a problem?” It felt like a vein had popped in my head.

I was losing my mind. I just needed to leave.

The Australian guy emerged from down the hall. “Hey, mate. I couldn’t help but overhear you yelling. Imitation is the finest form of flattery. And Pixy is very flattered.”***The baa sounds drove me bonkers the entire way home.

When I dropped Huey off, I jumped in the shower and whacked one off real quick to calm myself down before getting changed into some casual clothes.

As expected, traffic was bumper to bumper almost the entire way to Greenwich. Thank goodness, I’d left work early.

By the time I pulled up to Hailey’s friend’s house, I was ravenous. I hadn’t eaten since breakfast.

The smell of barbecue filled the air. My stomach growled.

The sun hadn’t set yet. There was probably at least another hour of daylight left.

A woman spotted me approaching the property and opened a gate leading into the pool area.

“You must be Hailey’s uncle?”

“Yes.” I held out my hand. “Hollis LaCroix.”

She took it, giving me a once-over. “Lindsey Branson, Megan’s mother.”

“Thank you for having Hailey.”

“It’s been an absolute pleasure. And your Elodie is such a hoot, too.”

My Elodie?

I couldn’t wait to get to Elodie and give her a piece of my mind about what happened with Huey. I still wanted to blame her for the whole thing, even though deep down I knew it wasn’t her fault. I just enjoyed directing my anger toward her for some reason.

But when I got through that gate and took a look at her, I couldn’t remember anything I had to say. Elodie was lying on a lounge chair wearing a bikini top that displayed her taut stomach—and cutoff denim shorts. Fuck. That diamond belly ring was glimmering in what sunlight was left, her supple tits pushed up somewhat. I’d never seen her so exposed. Given the environment, it wasn’t even inappropriate. Just sexy.

When she spotted me, she hopped up from her seat and walked over.

“There you are.” She smiled. “You made it. Everything work out okay?”

The entire car ride here I’d been intent on reaming her out. For what exactly? I didn’t even know. Now, all I wanted to do was look at her. Well, I wanted to do more than look at her, but I knew that wouldn’t be happening.

Instead of barking at her, I said, “Everything is great.”

“Good.” She smiled. “Hungry?”

My eyes scrolled down the length of her body. Fucking starving.

“I could eat.”

“Let me make you a plate.”

“You really don’t have to do that.”

“I know. I want to. You had a long day.”

As I followed her toward the smell of the grill, I said, “You know, you’re kind of an anomaly.”

“How so?”

“Well, you hate men for the most part. You’re quite independent. Yet any chance you get, you’re trying to serve me or feed me. I’m not sure I understand it.”

“It’s simple,” she said as she grabbed a burger and started making my plate.

“Yeah? Enlighten me.”

“You don’t expect it. You’re not the type of guy who assumes a woman’s role is in the kitchen or that you’re superior just because you’re a man. Hailey has told me what you’ve taught her about being a strong woman and not taking shit from people. Because you don’t expect to be served, it’s my pleasure to do it.” She handed me the plate. “Here you go.”