Page 24 of Fight Or Flight

A scalding hot, irreversible brand.

“What the hell is that?!” she shrieks, inching even closer to me.

My brain shorts as she brings her other hand to my chest.

“Eric, there’s a wild animal or something in your garage! Don’t you hear that?”

Oh, I hear it, and to be honest, I’ve never liked the damn bird, but right now, I’m the president of the cockatoo fan club. Steadying her, I place my hands on her hips. The simple touch snaps her out of the state of panic and instead of searching the garage for the squawking bird, she stares at me. My heart races and when she quickly snatches her hands away from my chest, I wonder if she felt it hammering against her hand.

I swallow.

I quietly curse too.

“Relax,” I say hoarsely, my hands still firmly planted on her hips.

She stares at me quietly, looking slightly confused, and a little spooked. I guess the little game of handsy is done.

Bummer.

Tearing my eyes away from her, I release her and tip my chin to the cage in the corner of the garage.

“It’s just Flo Rida, our bird,” I say.

“You have a bird?”

Needing to put more distance between us before I touch her again, I step around her and make my way to the cage. We rarely bother draping it with a cloth because the garage is dark, but it’s like Luna Park in here and poor Flo Rida is bopping around like his feathers are on fire.

“He’s Bella’s,” I explain as I search for something to throw over the cage. Spotting one of my dad’s old t-shirts, I throw it over the cage.

It’s lights out for Flo Rida.

Tomorrow I’ll have him dance for her, maybe it will cheer her up.

Turning back to Brooklyn, I take in the perplexed look on her pretty face.

“What?”

“I didn’t peg you guys to be bird people. I mean, with all the talk of kittens and tigers, I figured you might have a bunch of cats running around here, but a bird…I didn’t see that one coming.”

I laugh. The girl has a point.

The confusion fades from her face and she smiles back at me.

“I’m allergic to cats by the way.”

“Then it’s a good thing we don’t have one.”

Her smile vanishes instantly, and I play back my words to see what I could’ve said that would spark a change. My mind wanders back to the kitchen. When she was rambling on, she made it sound like she was a burden to my family. It’s the very reason I brought her in here, but I got distracted when she put her hands on me.

“Hey,” I call. Her eyes snap back to mine. “Stop doing that.”

“What am I doing?”

“You think you don’t belong here.”

Surprise clouds her pretty features.

Oh, pretty little hurricane, you’re so transparent.

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