Page 21 of The C*ck Down the Block

“Oh. Yeah. Right. But you don’t think the press is going to care about my high school reunion, do you?” Although, the other girls would probably have a heyday with that. Maybe I could actually use that to my advantage.

“Well, they sort of care about most everything I do. But I’ve been thinking about that.” He took my hand and rubbed his thumb over my knuckles in a way that was meant to soothe. That’s not what I’d say his touch did. “We could have the PR people tell them I’m dating a local girl. Unless that’s too much press. But it does play into your evil plans. I need to talk to my agent about some car commercial he’s got lined up for me anyway, and he’ll be thrilled to spin some hometown love story.”

Yikes. That was a whole lot more public than I’d ever planned to be about this fake relationship. The more people that knew about it, the more likely someone would find out it was all a ruse. But what choice did I have at this point? “Sure, that’s fine. As long as the paparazzi don’t start showing up at my house.”

I brushed off my worries and his apology with a shrug, though in all honesty, it did put a nervous zing in my belly. But I was the one who had asked him to pretend to be my boyfriend in the first place.

“Nah, once they know you aren’t also a celeb, except of course to the teenagers at the library, they’ll just use that pic of us at Manniway’s a hundred more times.”

Phew. I’d never been happier the most public facing I ever had to be at my job was when the newest teen vampire novel came out. “That makes me feel better. So we should plan our first practice date then.”

This ‘date’ with Chris, even if it was a fake one, hovered in the air between us, charging the atmosphere with a tension I hadn’t felt before. I stole a glance at him. He was already looking at me, his expression unreadable. Suddenly, the air around us felt too warm, too close. I swallowed, feeling my cheeks heat up.

This was going to be more interesting than I’d thought.

“How about we go hiking?” he suggested. “We could pop over to Chautauqua, maybe have a picnic? Out of the public eye, just you and me. Low risk, high reward.”

I did love the park and open space tucked right up next to the Flatirons. “Maybe tomorrow? I promised I would volunteer at the Rooster Rescue today. Those poor guys need all the love they can get.”

Chris laughed and shook his head like he was both surprised and not at the same time. “Alright, then. Rooster Rescue it is. But if any of them try to murder me, I’m blaming you.”

FOGHORNS AND FLIRTING

CHRIS

“Look at you, Foghorn,” Trixie cooed, holding one of the roosters close to her. The bird squawked, fluffing its bright red feathers, and leaned into her, rubbing his face right up in between her breasts. Little fucker.

I watched the whole interaction from the barn since I’d been put on food tray filling duty. “That rooster is taking advantage of you, Trix.”

I kind of wished I had some feathers sticking out of my ass with the way she was cuddling that guy. He was definitely getting the snuggles I wanted. So far, this pseudo-date was not going anything like I’d hoped. I was all for helping out an animal rescue, but this just felt like any other day hanging out with Trix.

Feeding chickens and picking up their shit wasn’t the most romantic way to get up close and personal. But this was what she loved and so I was going to do it with a smile on my face. But I’d be keeping my eyes peeled for the opportunity to show her I was more than just a pal.

She looked up at me, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “They’re sweet if you know how to treat them right.” The rooster squawked again, almost as if in agreement.

God, she was adorable. Trixie could probably get a charging bull moose to give her some love just by batting her eyelashes at him. “They hate me, so clearly I don’t have the magic chicken touch.”

I’d been pecked at least a dozen times since we’d arrived. The trainers were going to have a field day berating me for treating my body as anything less than a temple. Today I was a shrine to why chickens made a better dinner than a pet.

Trixie carefully placed Foghorn back onto the ground. The rooster gave me the side eye and then pecked at some invisible bugs in the dirt before strutting away.

“Okay, next task,” she pulled out the volunteer guide. “It looks like we’re cleaning the coop next.”

I had no idea how to flirt with her in this barnyard setting, and I was fairly sure I was failing miserably at my flirting task. She was paying way more attention to the roosters. She chatted to each one and checked them over, and for the thousandth time this morning, I was jealous of poultry.

My flirting skills were damn rusty, and it wasn’t like I could review tapes of my previous attempts to pinpoint my weak spots, or practice under the watchful eye of my coaches. Maybe I should have made Everett or Declan come with us so we could do a play-by-play afterwards.

But I was on my own and would have to come up with my own game plan.

“Yep, sure. But first, can you come over here and look at this?” I waved her over as if I’d found some problem. My libido was the real issue. When she got close, searching for whatever I was worried about, I threw a handful of straw at her like a four-year-old trying to get her to pay attention to me.

Yeah, real smooth. But it worked.

Trixie gasped, but then laughed and grabbed two handfuls of hay and threw them at me. I did a fantastic job, if I do say so myself, of pretending to be totally surprised and affronted. “Oh, it is on like Donkey Kong.”

I grabbed two huge handfuls and dashed toward her, dancing on my feet like I was looking for a receiver, just to give her a little bit of a head start.

She squealed and jumped away. “Don’t you dare, Christopher Bridger Kingman.”

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