Page 122 of Falling for Love

“Oh, sure,” I muttered. “Just stand there and enjoy the show, why don’t you?”

Beck chuckled and leaned on the fence beside Violet, enjoying every second of my humiliation.

“You know,” he said, “if you just assert dominance—”

“Assert dominance?” I interrupted, ducking another peck. “She’s the size of a loaf of bread, Beck. There’s no dominance to assert!”

Finally, Gertrude seemed to tire of the chase. She strutted back to the feeder, her tail feathers shaking as if to say, “That’s right. I win.”

I stood there, panting and glaring at the smug bird.

“This isn’t over,” I muttered, pointing a finger at her. “You and me, Gertrude. Round two tomorrow.”

Violet and Beck were laughing now, and I couldn’t help but join in, shaking my head at the absurdity of it all.

“I hope you’re enjoying yourselves,” I said, brushing off my jeans again.

“Oh, we are,” Violet said, wiping a tear from her eye. “This might be the best thing I’ve seen all week.”

“Glad I could provide some entertainment.”

Beck clapped a hand on my shoulder as I stepped out of the coop.

“You know, Liam, you’ve got a real knack for this farm life.”

“Yeah, thanks,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Maybe next time, you can handle the chickens.”

“Not a chance. Gertrude seems to have a special place in her heart for you.” He winked.

“Lucky me.”

Life at Honey Leaf Lodge was never dull, that was for sure.

The sound of hurried footsteps thudded behind me as I stood by the barn, brushing the sawdust off my hands. My parents came rushing out, their faces flushed with concern.

“Is the zebra missing?” Mom asked, her voice a mix of panic and exasperation.

I straightened, exchanging a look with Beck, who had just come out of the workshop holding a bucket.

“What? No,” I said, shaking my head. “I just saw her about fifteen minutes ago.”

Beck froze, bucket in hand, and his expression darkened. “Are you sure? Because last time you ‘just saw her,’ we found her in the neighbor’s chicken coop stealing corn.”

“That was one time,” I shot back, though I couldn’t quite keep the grin off my face. “Relax. She’s probably still in her pen.”

Mom wasn’t buying it. “I don’t know about that. Abby just called from Buttercup Java. She said she saw Macy trotting down the sidewalk in town.”

“Past the coffee shop?” Beck blurted, already tossing the bucket aside and sprinting toward the zebra’s pen. “How does she keep getting out?”

“She’s a mastermind, Beck!” I shouted after him. “Maybe you should stop underestimating her.”

Mom sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Abby said she tried luring her back with a carrot, but Macy wasn’t interested.”

I bit back a laugh. Of course, Abby would try to coax a zebra with a single carrot, as if Macy didn’t have the culinary standards of a diva. “Well, that tracks. She’s probably holdingout for apples. Or maybe one of those fancy protein bars Dad keeps in the pantry.”

Dad finally joined us, wiping his hands on a rag.

“What’s going on? Did she really get out again?”

---