Page 26 of Love Bank
One flew under the tree and swooped down like a majestic pelican, its only focus my cheese. Three more were right on his tail, beaks straining to make first contact with the poor cheese stick.
“What in the world?” Poppy’s jaw dropped open as she took in the scene.
Wings were flapping and birds were hopping around in the middle of a cheese stick tug-of-war. Somebody let some poop loose, which the others danced right through and spread around in tiny webbed footprints. That’s when I decided enough was enough. Pulling Poppy into the clinic, I slammed the door, dropped my box of cups, and watched the battle from the safe zone of the front window.
“These surf chickens have become a real nuisance! You should get a pest control guy out here to assess. Maybe your essential oil blend is catnip to seagulls or something.” Poppy couldn’t take her eyes off the bird fight.
I shook my head, a little weirded out by the whole thing and a whole lot frustrated that my clinic was attracting seagulls and inmates when all I wanted to do was help people have babies.
“There’s always been one or two around, but today they’ve gotten completely out of control. I’ll have to do some research to see what gets them to leave an area alone.” Add another thing to my to-do list.
The victorious seagull flew away, the rest following after him, hoping he’d drop what was left of my cheese. Poppy looked left and right before opening the door and hightailing it out of there, without even a goodbye. For her size, she had quite the springy hop over the poop puddle, landing easily and walking along to the prison to deliver their weekend mail.
“Guess I’ll get the hose from out back and clean up the mess,” I muttered to myself. Today was not at all turning out how I anticipated.
* * *
I just turned off my computer and collected the debris from my failed lunch, intent on finally dealing with my car situation and getting home now that I’d gotten all my work completed. I didn’t live far, only a mile or so away from the clinic, but walking a mile in these heels in the afternoon sun wasn’t something I intended to do.
Another knock on the front door didn’t even phase me this time. Which wasn’t good. It signaled I was getting used to disasters.
Instead of a pigeon, an inmate, or the warden—who shall not be thought of lest I have another hot flash of irritation and intense arousal—stood a pretty girl with dark hair and a smile that made my recent heartburn dial back a notch. She waved at me through the window and I hurried over to unlock and open the door.
She came in like a hurricane, high energy pouring off her in palpable waves. Even her hair seemed to bounce into the room. Her jean shorts rode up high, showing off curvy tan legs she probably hated but every man drooled over.
“Hey there! You must be Lucille, right?”
I nodded, finding myself smiling in return. “I am. I know I’ve seen you around, but I’m afraid I don’t know your name.”
Her smile increased in wattage, which was really saying something. “I’m Hazel. I’m Yedda’s granddaughter. You’ve probably seen me visiting with Granny.”
“That’s it! Well, nice to formally meet you. Is everything okay?” In all the stress of today, I hadn’t been by Yedda’s Cat Society to check in.
“Oh, yes! Totally fine. I’m actually here because of a fundraiser I’m involved with. I’m collecting business donations for the town’s annual Testicular Cancer run this summer. Have you been to the run in past years?”
Not only had I been to the Testicular run, it had been a highlight of my summer two years ago when I ran the 5k in less than forty-five minutes. Some would call that a walk, but I didn’t think I needed labels. It was called a run, I participated, I ran. End of story.
“I sure have. I run it every year.” I folded my arms across my chest, quite proud of myself and daring her to contradict me.
Instead, she bounced up and down like her feet were made of springs. “Oh that’s great! I’m so glad to hear it. So, you’ll totally understand why Coastal Fertility Clinic should totally be a sponsor!”
I tilted my head. I hadn’t considered being a sponsor, but I supposed that was the right thing to do. Hazel, perhaps sensing the hesitation, jumped back in, her hands landing on my arms. She was a toucher.
“You work with sperm. Testicles make sperm! It’s, like, the perfect pairing!”
Her enthusiasm, combined with the stunning logic, made for a compelling argument.
“You talked me into it. I’d love to donate.”
Hazel squealed and pulled me in for a hug, surprisingly strong for such a small thing. When she let me go, she had the most brilliant smile on her face, the kind that reached her eyes and made me want to give her the shirt off my back. Okay, not this one. This one was silk and also my favorite, but you know what I meant.
“You seem to be the kind of woman who likes cookies, Lucille. Am I right?”
My stomach, the one that didn’t get half the roll of Ritz crackers or the cheese stick that went to the seagulls, growled so loud my face went hot.
“Whodoesn’tlove cookies?” I quipped.
She squealed again and whipped open the door, gesturing for me to follow her. I did, mostly because I was drawn to her excitement. She could be leading me to an unmarked white van with kidnappers inside and I’d still follow just for another smile and the cookies she promised. I hoped they were chocolate chip.
