Page 7 of Milk & Cookie

“Feed one, and they’ll all come running.” he says, carefully picking his way through their flapping wings and fresh leavings to sit next to me. “You’re a farm boy. You should know this.”

I give him a flat stare. “Have you ever known me to share my food?” Much to the chagrin of the ducks, I shake the last few cheesy crumbs from my bread bag into my palm, take them to my mouth, and savor the final taste of my treat as I scrunch the brown paper into a ball. “I didn’t give them shit. That’s why they’re pissed at me. Garlic is bad for ducks.”

“Unless you’re cooking them.” Daryl watches the flappers a moment. “You want duck for dinner? We could grab a couple of these guys. Take them home for a plucking good time?”

I shrug, and he looks me over. “Okay. You’ve got your pre-heartbreak face on, like you can see another doomed relationship on the horizon. Who have you fallen for this time?”

I lower my head. “A spunky little mama with curves to die for, who’s gripped me by the balls like no other woman ever. If I can’t get her bedded, wedded, and thoroughly bred before I die, my spirit will roam the earth unsatisfied, for all eternity.”

Daryl looks at me as if he’s bored. “It’s good you’re not too dramatic about it.”

I hunch forward with a sigh, and he leans back and stretches his arms out along the back of the bench. “Every time,” he mutters, shaking his head.

I frown. “This is different. She’s different. She’s young and pretty and good. You know? She’s definitely a spicy kitten who reeks of sexual potential and needs a good stroking, but she’s sweet, too. Like, I can feel how wholesome she is.”

Daryl sits straighter and studies my face, his brows drawing downward. “Did you go to the library today?”

“No. Why?”

He shakes his head. “No reason.” He tugs at his ear and looks into the distance.

“Should I?”

He looks back at me, a confused expression on his face. “Should you what?”

“Go to the library.”

He glares at me. “Definitely not. Steer clear of the place.”

“Why?”

For a moment, he doesn’t answer. “Because I don’t want you to fall in love with the librarian.”

“Why not?”

What if I already did? What if Fred runs the local library?

I’ll visit every day, and he can’t stop me.

I fold my arms over my chest, and Daryl’s warning gaze gets twice as murderous before he jabs his fingers at my sternum. “She’s an innocent girl from a respectable family, and small towns gossip,” he growls. “It’d ruin her reputation if people knew someone your size was railing her. There’s a balance to be kept around here, if everyone’s going to live peacefully together with a certain level of privacy, and I don’t need you throwing your giant cock in the ring and causing strife. Just stay away from her.”

Taken aback by his unusually protective stance, I raise my palms and give him my word. “If you’re this moody about it, I’ll leave the librarian alone.” An uneasy feeling niggles at me, and I swallow hard, trying to ignore the pace of my racing heart. “What’s her name?” I ask, hoping I haven’t already broken the promise.

“Cadence Malone,” he says quietly. Almost reverently.

Relief washes through me, whooshing out in a rush of breath, before I nod. “Consider me off her dance card.”

Daryl watches me closely. “You thought it was her.”

“I hoped it wasn’t, considering how in love with her you sound.”

He coughs and looks around with wild eyes before lowering his voice to scold me. “You shouldn’t say shit like that too loud. It starts rumors, and rumors hurt people. She’s a good girl, and I like living here, Vince. I don’t need a mob of pitchfork-toting conservatives driving my filthy ass out of town for fiddling with the headmaster’s daughter. Everyone around here went through his school, and he made such an impression, they live in fear of him long after graduation. He’s basically the fucking law in these parts. He might as well be a fucking mob boss, with the power he has over the cops, the town paper, and every fucking committee there is, so just mind your own fucking beeswax and don’t talk crap about his baby girl. Don’t even speak her name.”

I ease back on the bench. “Fine.” I haven’t seen my friend this worked up about anyone before, ever. “Are you okay?” I ask.

“I don’t know how you fall in love so often,” he mutters. “It’s a fucking awful business.”

“It can be.” I tilt my head, to read his face. “I was almost hoping love wouldn’t swallow me again, when it has chewed me up and spat me out so many times already, but this time feels different. It’s more, somehow, but I can’t find the right way to explain it. And it was instant.”

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