Page 62 of The Runaway Bride of Blitzen Bay (Blitzen Bay)

“Shirts and matching hats.”

“Hats? What? Oh my God. What kind of hats? Like bonnets? Or cowboy hats? Or like little party hats? I have to see them. Please tell me you have pictures.” She puts her hand on my leg.

“I’m sure my mom does somewhere.”

“This is amazing. Did the chickens like the outfits?”

“No, no, they definitely did not. They pecked them off each other’s bodies. One of the hens got some of the material caught in its throat.”

“What?” She squeezes my leg. “Did he die?”

“First, hens are female, but yes, she did die. Grandma had a funeral for her.”

She puts her hand over her eyes and shakes her head.

“Elle, are you crying again? It was just a chicken.”

She peeks at me through her fingers. “I’m a very sensitive person, Nash. If we’re going to be friends, you’re going to have to embrace my crying. And I thought you said she was a hen, not a chicken.”

“They’re all chickens. Hens are female; roosters are male, but they’re all chickens.”

“That’s unnecessarily confusing.” She throws her hands down.

I smile. “Well, I will call the chicken board tomorrow and file an official complaint.”

“Is there really a chicken board?”

“There’s not a chicken board, Elle. How are you this gullible?”

“Are you sure there’s not? I mean someone has to be regulating them, right?”

“Why is this important to you?” She’s looking at me very intensely. “I mean, there might be a chicken board—like in Arkansas or something.”

“Do you want to research it a little bit more and get back to me?”

I shake my head. “You’re getting me off my original point.”

“There was a point to this?” she says, smiling and tilting her head.

“Yes, there was,” I laugh. “My point was: don’t worry about your mom because everyone has stories to tell about their families.”

She sits up straighter. “Yeah, but your grandma was adorable crazy. My mom’s scary crazy.”

“People react differently to stress. Your mom just doesn’t handle it well.”

“Understatement—”

“Honestly, she can’t be that crazy because she raised you and you’re . . . you’re pretty perfect.”

I reach out and take her hand. She breathes in quickly and bites her lip. Her eyes get wider as she looks from our hands up to my eyes.

“Look, Elle, I know you’re not in any place to start something, but I need to be honest with you. If you were available, I would be all over you.”

She laughs. “All over me, huh?”

“Respectfully, of course,” I say, smiling. “You are attractive to me in every single way possible.”

She takes a deep breath. “I think you’re amazing, too, and I’m wildly attracted to you—”

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