Page 25 of Peacocks

The truth was, I had this stupid hope buried deep in my chest that one day Lane might be okay with getting un-casual. One might even say… serious. In short, I’d like to Entwine the hell out of the man.

I wanted more mornings like this, where Lane was sweet and sleepy in my bed, and more nights where the two of us laughed and teased and solved the world’s problems over Italian Gentleman. I wanted, really badly, for him to stop seeing me as a guy he was killing time with. But I wasn’t sure what to do about itother than what Ihadbeen doing—floating along, falling in love, and pretending I wasn’t.

I knew a whole fuckton about how to giveotherpeople what they wanted and needed, whether it was Mrs. Holcombe needing her groceries carried when her twins started throwing surround-sound temper tantrums in the middle of the grocery store or my grandma Emmaline needing a “wearable” Entwinin’ plaque for her husband Amos to commemorate him winning Best Mature Bovine Herder at the Lickin’ last summer.

But wanting Lane for myself was a whole other thing. It felt selfish and scary. It tied me up in knots… and not the pretty Entwinin’ kind.

The truth was, I’d just never found anything worth wanting before. Not the way I wanted him.

“Jay?” Lane opened one eye and blinked at me blearily. “Y’okay?”

My stomach tightened. I wanted to say, “Yeah, Lane. As long as you’re here with me, I’m very okay.” But that wouldn’t be casual, would it? I didn’t want to put pressure on the man. I definitely didn’t want to see him do his jackrabbit impression again.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry. Just got distracted thinking of my to-do list today. The Entwinin’ is tomorrow, and I’ve got like five wreaths I need to finish up. But first, breakfast for Dave and the gang… and then for my favorite veterinarian.”

Lane’s eye slid closed, but his face creased in a sleepy grin. “Always helping. S’cute.”

I snorted as I threw on a sweatshirt and let myself out to the backyard, where my flock of cocks strolled around their enclosure. Just as Lane had predicted, Disco Dave had laid off the peacock Viagra once he’d settled into his new enclosure, complete with roosts and lots of soft pine shavings. He stillshook out his feathers, of course, but not in the aggressive, train-rattling way he’d done at first.

“Dave’s figured out that his mating season will come eventually, and he’s gotta be patient,” Lane had said when he’d looked over the flock a few weeks back. “Speaking of which, I have this friend back in Georgia who happens to have some peahens…”

My smile had taken up my whole face. The words Lane spoke could’ve come out of my own mouth. I couldn’t resist teasing him. “Seems like a lot of your stories start that way these days, Doc.”

Lane had blushed a mouthwatering pink from his head to his collarbone. “Yes. Well. Possibly. In any case, about the peahens…”

Lane liked to joke about my obsession with taking care of people and putting other people’s wants before my own, but Lane worried about the animals in his care like they were his own family. He didn’t just do his job; helivedit, pouring his heart into every furry or feathered creature that crossed his path. He was thoughtful and honest, always saying exactly what he meant, even when it wasn’t what I wanted to hear. He made people—me—feel like we mattered. And he was so damn appreciative of even the littlest kindness.

It was no wonder I’d fallen for him hard and just kept falling.

Once again, I was not an idiot.

I wished the peacocks a good day, then went back inside and washed up. Preparing breakfast for Lane was second nature by now since I got the privilege of doing it three or four days a week. I whipped up some scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. Without thinking about it, I grabbed the honey jar out of the pantry and set it on my kitchen island.

The first few times I’d stayed at Lane’s place, I’d noticed him drizzling honey on his toast, so I’d bought some at the farmer’smarket. Now, whenever he reached for it automatically, like he was used to it always being there, it gave me a little thrill.

I shook my head at myself. One of these days, the man was going to figure out that I never ate the stuff myself. He was going to recognize that this honey was a gesture of… of… un-casualness… and I was going to feel like a fool.

Still, I couldn’t see to stop myself.

A few minutes later, Lane’s footsteps shuffled across the floor.

“You know you’re ridiculous, right?” Lane’s voice was warm and scratchy, still thick with sleep.

I glanced over my shoulder, nearly dropping my bacon spatula. Lane’s hair was wilder than I’d ever seen it, and he had a deep crease down his cheek. He’d grabbed a long-sleeved Bovines Alumni T-shirt from my drawer, and seeing it on him was making me, uh…display… in a way that Dave would be mightily jealous of.

“Am I?” I said, forcing myself to look closely at the eggs so Lane wouldn’t see whatever foolish look was on my face.

“Mmm.” He flopped onto one of the kitchen stools. “Barely dawn and you’re playing short-order cook. And I happen to know you were in your workshop past midnight.”

He knew because that was where he’d found me when he’d come home, himself.

I chuckled. “Gotta make sure folks have a happy Entwinin’. Liz Stoke has been waiting a whole year to propose to Crystal Rivera ’cause she wanted to do it with a wreath. An Entwinin’ wreath is the purest form of love there is.”

“Sure,” he agreed, but when I turned toward him to plate the eggs, I noticed a little frown on Lane’s forehead.

“You okay?” I asked, setting his plate in front of him.

Lane reached for the honey and paused for a second before he started drizzling honey on his bread. When he looked upat me, his eyes were soft. “Yeah. I’m great. Thank you for breakfast.”

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