It was hot as hell, and I wassofucking tempted—but the downside of being a lawyer was that clients were off limits.
The upside of being a lawyer, though? I was really good at finding loopholes.
A distant corner of my professional brain activated just long enough to remind me that technically, Danny wasn’t a client—yet—so flirting was probably okay. Hell, even a little fooling around wasn’t breaking any rules. And honestly, it had been a while, so some fooling around sounded pretty fucking good.
And did I mention that Danny was cute? With scruffy light brown hair with a hint of curls, hazel eyes and a lush pink mouth, and broad shoulders and thick thighs that his jeans clung to just right, he was a snack.
And I’d always had a sweet tooth.
Fuck it.
“I’ll tell you what I like,” I said, giving him what I hoped was a sultry smile. “I like pretty boys in trucker caps who give me their number.”
Danny grinned. “And I like cute guys in suits.” He licked his lips and I leaned forward, eager to hear what he’d say next. “Sooo, wanna maybe?—”
“Danny!” an unfamiliar voice bellowed as the door swung open. A tall, burly man with an impressive mustache barreled into the room—followed by an honest-to-godgoose.
“Fuck,” Danny muttered, and then, unbelievably, he jumped up from his chair and climbed up on the table.
I stared at him as he stood there with his hands covering his junk. “Danny?”
“Don’t mind him, he’s scared of Lucille,” the man said, thrusting his broad palm at me. “I’m Bobby Merritt.”
“Uh,” I said. What was happening? I’d beenthisclose to arranging a hookup, and now Danny was standing on the table and glaring at a goose.
The goose honked loudly, flapping its wings and bearing down on me. I barely had time to clock the determined gleam in its eye before it flapped harder and launched into the air, and the next thing I knew my lap was filled with an angry, hissing, goose-shaped demon that I was pretty sure was trying to peck my eyes out. My heart thundered in my chest and a primal wave of fear washed over me as I batted at the ball of feathery rage with both hands, pushing it away frantically. The goose hissed and gave one last vicious peck before dropping to the ground as I managed to shove it off my lap. It honked again, louder, and strutted over to the door, still hissing.
“What thefuck?” I blurted out, rubbing my biceps where the goose had pecked me. That shithurt. I clambered to my feet and wondered if there was room for two on that table.
Bobby laughed. “She’s just saying hello.” His tone was indulgent, like having an attack goose was somehow cute and not a public menace.
He thrust out his hand again and I took it warily, still slightly dazed. “Miller Clarke.”
“You’re Cal’s young lawyer,” he said, looking me up and down.
I took the chance to do the same. Bobby Merritt was the literal embodiment of larger than life. He was well over six feet tall and his white T-shirt was a size too small and strained over his biceps. There was a picture of a badly drawn goose on the front of the shirt giving a thumbs-up, only it was using its wings. Bobby was wearing a pair of denim cutoff shorts and, unaccountably, red and white striped suspenders. A cowboy hat and a pair of boots completed his look.
He regarded me with bright blue eyes and a confident air that left me in no doubt that any minute now he was going to sell me my very own goose, which was the one at the top of a pyramid of geese, and if I could just find seven friends to all sign up fora goose, I’d end up with a lifetime supply of, I dunno, feather pillows maybe? You get the idea.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw the goose move, and I stiffened and stepped back so I was plastered against the wall. “Uh…”
Bobby chuckled and fished in the pocket of his shorts, pulling out a leash. He clicked his tongue, and the goose trotted over to him and sat down at his feet, all innocence. Bobby bent and clipped the leash to a harness that the goose was wearing. I hadn’t noticed it before, what with the violent, unprovoked attack and all.
“Anyway, I’ve put some traps and bait in the storeroom for whatever the hell is in there,” Bobby said, “so I thought I’d say hey. But we’re going now. Good to meetcha, though.” He tipped his hat in my direction, and then he and his demon bird were gone.
I slumped against the wall in relief, and a moment later Danny hopped down off the table, glaring at the spot where the goose had been. “I fucking hate that thing,” he muttered. “It always goes for my nuts.”
Well, that explained why he’d been protecting his junk.
“It’s kind of terrifying,” I agreed. “How is it even allowed in public?”
“Bobby’s the mayor, and he owns half of Goose Run,” Danny said. “He has all these plans to make it our signature bird and turn the town into a tourist attraction.”
“It’s more likely to turn into a lawsuit,” I said.
Danny snorted. Then he took two steps forward and when he was in front of me, he reached up slowly and plucked a loose feather from my hair and held it up with a soft smile.
The mood shifted suddenly. My heart started thundering in my chest, and not from fear this time. The air between uscrackled with anticipation for a few seconds—right before Danny leaned in and kissed me.
