Page 121 of Falling for Love

“Alright, Gertrude,” I muttered, locking eyes with the plump hen. “We’ve been through this before. I’m just here to feed you, not steal your eggs.”

Gertrude tilted her head, her beady eyes narrowing as if she were weighing the truth of my words. Then, with an indignant squawk, she launched herself at me like a feathered torpedo.

“Whoa!” I yelped, stumbling back into the wire mesh wall. “Are you kidding me right now?”

The scoop of feed went flying everywhere.

Gertrude strutted to the pile with a self-satisfied cluck, pecking away at the spoils while I scrambled to my feet.

“Unbelievable,” I muttered, brushing straw off my jeans. “Every single time. You’d think I was trying to steal the family jewels.”

I grabbed the empty scoop and stepped toward the feed bin, keeping one eye on Gertrude. She pretended to ignore me, scratching at the ground as if she hadn’t just waged a poultry war against me.

“Alright, let’s try this again,” I said, more to myself than to her.

I scooped another portion of feed, holding it out in what I hoped was a goodwill gesture.

“See? Food. You like food. We’re on the same team here.”

Gertrude didn’t move. She just stared at me, her feathers ruffling slightly in a way that screamed, “I dare you.”

I took a cautious step closer, then another, sprinkling a bit of the feed as I went.

“There you go,” I cooed, feeling a bit ridiculous but determined to avoid another attack. “Good girl. See? No need for violence.”

For a moment, I thought it worked.

She started pecking at the feed I’d dropped. Her beady eyes focused on the ground instead of me. I took a relieved breath and poured the rest of the scoop into the feeder.

And that’s when she struck.

“Ah! Come on!” I hollered as Gertrude darted toward me, wings flapping and beak aiming for my shins. I backpedaled so fast I nearly tripped over the edge of the coop, my arms pinwheeling to keep my balance.

“Gertrude, we talked about this!” I shouted, hopping over a stray bucket to avoid her latest charge. She wasn’t having it. The chicken equivalent of a battle cry filled the air as she chased me in circles around the enclosure.

From outside the coop, I heard laughter.

“Having some trouble there, Liam?” Violet’s voice rang out, and I glanced over to see her leaning on the fence, her phone aimed squarely at me.

Great. Of course, this moment would be documented for posterity.

“Call off your feathered attack dog!” I shouted, dodging another lunge from Gertrude. “She’s out for blood!”

“Maybe if you didn’t look so suspicious,” Violet teased as she recorded my misery.

“I’m feeding her! How is that suspicious?”

“Maybe she senses your fear,” she said, shrugging.

“I am not afraid of a chicken!” I shot back, though my tone lacked conviction as Gertrude launched herself at me again.

“Then why are you running?”

At that moment, Beck strolled up, hands stuffed in his pockets and smirking. “What’s going on here? Chicken aerobics?”

“Beck, help me out here!” I pleaded, waving the scoop in his direction.

He surveyed the scene, his grin widening. “Looks like you’ve got it under control.”

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