Page 7 of Unexpected Christmas with the SEAL

They reached the chicken coop where the hens all hummed and clucked around outside, pecking and scratching among the clumps of dirty snow, and hard ground to find food. She’d opened up the coop and fed them earlier that morning, while also collecting the eggs. But some hens hadn’t laid yet, so she was checking for late lays. Her omelet that morning for breakfast had been rich and delicious with two bright orange yolks, a sprinkle of nutritional yeast, dried parsley and Old Bay seasoning.

“This one is my favorite,” Cal said, pointing to a rusty-feathered hen that approached the fence when he crouched down. “Hennifer.”

Hennifer did a weird chicken purr noise and Cal reached two of his long fingers through the wire and petted the top of her head. She did her purr sound again and closed her eyes.

“A sucker for affection, like Macklin,” he said with a chuckle. “Aren’t you, girl?”

Hennifer settled down on the ground until her feet were no longer visible, but not before she inched closer to the fence, causing some of her feathers to push through. She continued to make that purring chicken sound.

Hannah rolled her eyes and wandered behind the coop, where she opened the hatch to check the nesting boxes. There were eight more eggs from late layers, so she put them in one of the wire baskets, made sure the chickens had enough feed and that their water trough was clean and full, then closed the hatch and wandered back around to where Cal was petting Hennifer. Only now, more hens had joined his harem.

“I only have two hands, ladies.” His raspy chuckle made Hannah’s lower belly do a little flutter.

He was now petting two hens while the another tried to inch her way into the queue.

“You might need to join in,” he said, glancing up at her. “They’re pretty persistent.”

She rolled her eyes again, but set down the egg basket and crouched beside him, reaching her hands through the wire fence. Another chicken approached, so now they were each petting two.

“You’re making Yolko Ono and Feather Locklear very happy.” He turned to face her, which caused his knee to bump into hers.

Another flutter in her belly.

She gave him a look. “You know them all by name?”

“Don’t you?”

“No.”

“Chickens are as individual as horses and humans. You just need to get to know them. Like Feather Locklear is a bit of a bitch. She can be really bossy and act like she owns the coop. Hennifer here is a pushover and lets any chicken take her feed or shove her out of the way. She needs to learn how to stand up for herself.”

“And yet, she’s your favorite?”

“I like an underdog. What can I say? She’s also the sweetest of the bunch. Very affectionate.”

“Okaay.” All of a sudden, Hannah wasn’t so keen on petting a farmyard bully and glared at Feather Locklear, as she redirected the majority of her attention to Yolko Ono. “And what about the other one you’re petting? What’s she like?”

“Who? Gwyneth Poultry?”

Hannah snorted. “If that’s the one whose head you’re scratching with your left hand, then yes.”

“Well, Gwyneth can be a little impatient. She bulldozed right into Hennifer and tried to push Hennifer out of the way, which Hennifer was going to allow. But I put my other hand in and Gwyneth calmed down.”

“It’s like a soap opera with all the conflicting personalities in here.”

“Oh, it’s worse than a soap opera. At least with a soap opera, they all go home to their mansions to get away from their enemy—after slapping them, of course.”

“Of course.”

Wait, did that mean he watched soap operas?

“Here, though,” he went on, “they have to listen to their enemy snore, and break bread with them. All while resisting the urge to peck them to death.” He stood up and grunted like a man who’d seen shit, done shit, and was in his forties, would. “What are you making for Christmas dinner tomorrow night?”

“Why? You inviting yourself over?” She stood up, as well, and grabbed the wire handle for the egg basket, shivering when a gust of icy wind swept across the back of her neck. She pulled the hood of her jacket up over her ponytail. The chickens made sounds of frustration from no longer getting attention, but eventually they realized the petting was over, so they dispersed among the yard.

Truth-be-told, she had no plans for a fancy Christmas dinner. She had chicken Cesar salad last night and planned to do it again tonight and tomorrow.

“No. I was going to see ifyouwanted to come over. I bought a small, organic, free-range turkey from Ed’s farm and was going to cook it up. Complete with all the sides. And my gran’s famous mushroom gravy. And every sane person knows you can’t have turkey without stuffing, mashed potatoes and green bean casserole. That’d be like having Tom without Jerry, or Fred without Barney. It just doesn’t make sense.”

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