Bree, stuffed after eating only half her burger, insisted on driving so Noah could finish his on the way. Also, she was already getting tired of riding shotgun. She’d had her own patrol car in San Antonio. Had driven when she wanted to and let her partner drive when she didn’t. She had been in control.
But now, even though she had the wheel, she felt like a chauffeur. “Where are we going?”
Between bites, he directed her to a property about twenty minutes outside of town. Not quite a ranch, not even a big farm. Just a lot of land and several outbuildings behind a small wood-frame house.
As she put the car in Park, Noah gave her the lay of the land. “Ray and Ruth McNulty live here.” He popped the last fry in his mouth, stuffed his napkin into the carryout container and pointed to another house down the road. “And over there is where Widow Parsons lives. Abby Parsons has been labeled by some people as a redneck trophy bride because she was so much younger than her husband. The kind of woman who always takes pride in her appearance, although I’ve heard it said she overdresses for every occasion.” His mouth kicked up at the corners in a sheepish smile. “Anyway, after her husband died, Ray McNulty offered to help her with home repairs and the more strenuous physical labor needed on her property.”
“Let me guess—the widow repaid Ray with her own version of physical labor.”
Chuckling, Noah shrugged. “It’s been one of the worst-kept secrets around here for a few years.”
“The wife...?”
“Ruth.”
“Right. So Ruth knows?”
“Yep, though admittedly, she was slow to catch on. But ever since she did, we’ve been dealing with the McNulty-Parsons feuds on a regular basis.”
“Feuds, plural? Don’t you mean the Ruth-Abby feud?”
“Well, yeah. The women have been at each other’s throats for a hot minute. But there’s also one heck of a lot of sparring between the two McNultys.”
Bree blew out a long-suffering breath. “Why can’t men just keep it zipped?” A problem her last boyfriend had had. He just couldn’t keep his hands off the badge bunnies. Which was why she’d dumped his sorry butt over a year ago and swore she’d never date another cop. There hadn’t been anyone in her life since, and she liked it that way. Uncomplicated. Bree totally got why Rachel threw her loser husband out.
“Hey, no fair generalizing. We’re not all hound dogs.”
“Uh-huh, sure.” Bree twisted her mouth to the side. “So, what are we about to walk into?”
“You’re gonna love this. Apparently, Ruth got ahold of Ray’s cell phone and sent a text asking Abby to meet ‘him.’” He emphasized with air quotes. “Naturally, Ruth made sure to pick a time when she knew Ray wouldn’t be home.” Noah didn’t bother hiding his mirth. He clearly found the whole situation amusing, and Bree wasn’t sure what to make of that. As someone who had been hurt by infidelity, it wasn’t a situation she normally found funny.
Noah went on. “Okay, here’s where it gets good. Do you hear that honking—and maybe an occasional shriek?”
Bree cocked her head. Sure enough. “I do.”
“The McNultys raise geese. Mean suckers, geese. At least, the domesticated ones are. Protective of their owners and can get vicious when guarding them against predators. Both real and perceived.”
Bree opened the driver’s-side door of the patrol car. “And for whatever reason, they think Abby is a predator.”
“That they do, and they’ve got her surrounded on the back patio.” Noah got out of the car wearing a devilish smirk. “Tell you what—since I know her, I’ll talk to Ruth, try to get her to call off her birds. In the meantime, you see about dispersing the geese and getting Abby off the property.”
“Wait. I’m a city girl. What do I know about handling geese?”
“About as much as I do. Just don’t make them mad.”
“Then why—”
Already closing the distance to the McNultys’ front door, Noah shouted one word over his shoulder: “Newbie.”
Okay, if that’s the way you want to play it, fine. I can handle this.
Patio. Backyard. Bree headed along the side of the house.
I’ve taken down 250-pound street thugs. What’s a few geese? Nothing more than glorified ducks, right? I’ll flap my arms around, maybe yell at them, and they’ll fly away. Job done.
She hesitated at the back corner of the house. The faint honking and shrieking was louder. She peeked around the corner and sized up the situation lickety-split.
An attractive, fortyish blonde was clearly dressed for a tête-à-tête in a low-cut, high-hemmed dress, though the fabric was ripped and her hair was askew. Several red welts marred her bare arms and legs; one was maybe bleeding. Hard to tell from this distance, but they all looked painful.
The widow had escaped the reach of her attackers by standing on top of the rickety patio table barefoot, her expensive-looking, shiny red high heels lying on the ground, covered in globs of goose poop. Abby Parsons might be a two-timing redneck trophy wife, but currently she was a hot mess in a terrible fix.
As reported, a flock of maniacal birds surrounded her. No, not a flock—a gaggle. A gaggle of strutting, neck-bobbing, wings a’flapping, honking and hissing, maniacal geese. Alfred Hitchcock couldn’t have concocted a better scene.
As the assault continued, accompanied by the widow’s occasional shrieks of profanity, poop flew everywhere. Even from Bree’s distance, the droppings were like nothing any bird had ever left on her car. These were disgusting.
Bree approached at a snail’s pace. “Ma’am, I’m Deputy Delgado of the Boone County Sheriff’s Department, and I’m here to help you.”
At the sound of Bree’s voice, eight black-beaked heads with tiny, malevolent eyes turned their attention her way in unison. For a brief moment of silent hesitation, it seemed the creatures considered whether she was friend or foe.
Streaks of mascara running down her cheeks, the frazzled woman looked up, her relief palpable. “Oh, thank heavens.”
The geese did not seem as pleased by Bree’s arrival. A couple of the closest birds waddled in her direction, honking and flapping their wings. “That’s close enough,” Bree warned but was soundly ignored. The two kept coming. What now? She called on the strategic principle of the best defense being a good offense.
“Scram!” Waving her arms wide, she ran toward them.
Bad idea.
Instead of running away, they hissed, stretched out their wings and charged her, a few of their compatriots joining in.
Bree ran from the patio out onto the grassy yard, the geese hot on her tail. Circling back toward the house, she shouted to the widow, “Why aren’t they flying away?”
Ms. Parsons, busy kicking at the geese who were trying to bite her toes, stared at Bree. “Domesticated geese don’t fly more than a few feet off the ground.” With arms flailing, she managed to keep her balance, roll her eyes and smirk all at the same time. “Where on earth are you from that you don’t know that?”
“San—ow!—Anto—get away from me!—nio—dammit, stop biting me!” Bree swung her arms behind her, trying to swat at the giant goose that kept ramming his beak into her butt. When she reached the patio, she about-faced and mad-dogged the whole stinking lot of them, making herself as big as possible and yelling at the top of her lungs.
“Stop!” Abby shouted. “That will only make them mad—”
As if Bree needed convincing, the biggest goose rose up from the ground, arched its neck high and clamped down on the closest thing to it: her right breast.
“Son of a...” The intense pain froze the scream rising in her throat. She pushed at the goose until it finally let go of her. More head-bobbing, wing-flapping and honking merged with the flow of expletives leaving Bree’s mouth as she rubbed her sore nipple.
The big goose once again started toward her again. “I swear, you try it again and you’re mine, mister. After what you did to me, I’ll buy you from the McNultys. Don’t care what it costs. You’re gonna be my dinner and my pillow.”
Several more birds joined Bree’s current aggressor. Forming up like well-trained troops, they spread their wings and stretched their necks.
Then, as a unit, they charged.
Bree turned and ran across the patio. The biggest bird—had to be a male—got in one last painful jab as Bree scrambled up onto the table. Panting, Bree pressed the button on her shoulder mic. “Deputy Reed, this is Deputy Delgado requesting immediate assistance in the backyard.”
Noah appeared darn near instantly. Judging by his idiotic grin, he’d been watching the goings-on for some time. Maybe the whole time. Aggravating man.
Bree’s eyes narrowed into slits. “You say one word, and I’ll pulverize you.”
His deep, rich laughter made her feel alive, but she still wanted to kill him. When one of the geese turned and charged him, Bree thought she’d have her revenge. Instead, Noah retreated backward, never taking his eyes off the aggressive bird, and disappeared around the side of the house. The traitor.
Way to have my back, partner.
And darned if the bird didn’t halt its pursuit of Noah and return to the patio table.
Glaring down at the stupid bird, Bree derived momentary satisfaction imagining a savory cooked-goose dinner, complete with a sprig of parsley on top of the golden brown feast. “You’re this close.” She held up her thumb and finger to demonstrate exactly how close. More honking and hissing showed just how unimpressed he was with her threat.
Noah returned a moment later with Ruth in tow. “Come on, Ruth. That’s my partner up there on that table. You’ve had your fun. Now call off your birds.”
Abby’s hiss rivaled those from the geese. “I swear, Ruth McNulty, I’m going to—”
“Ms. Parsons, what say you hold off with the threats until Mrs. McNulty corrals the geese?” Noah’s tone was serious, but he just couldn’t hide his amusement.
“Don’t see why I should have to.” Ruth crossed her arms, looking like a recalcitrant child. “If she wasn’t such a husband-stealer who—”
“Ruth!” Noah shouted over the growing din of poultry. “The geese. Now.”
With one last glare at the alleged husband-stealer, Ruth walked off in a huff, her beloved gaggle waddling after her. Bree leaped from the table, not even caring at this point about all the goose crap she probably had mashed onto the soles of her shoes. Noah came over and held out a hand to help the disheveled Abby down.
“How’d y’all know to come rescue me?” Abby eyed her shoes, her lip curling in distaste at the goopy decorations left by the geese. “Those are ruined. And they cost a fortune. I ought to make that old biddy pay to replace them.”
“Oh, I don’t know. They might clean up.” Noah glanced at Bree as if she knew the answer. When she shrugged, he added, “And it was Ray who called this in.”
Abby’s mouth pursed and her nose wrinkled. “That sorry coward. I called him, told him what was going on, and he said he was on his way to help me.”
Clearly, Ray wanted no part of the cat fight, despite it being a mess of his own making. Bree crossed her arms, wincing when they pressed against her sore breast. Yes, Ray was a coward.
But Abby Parsons was in no way blameless. “You have no grounds to compel Ruth to pay for your shoes, since they were damaged when you trespassed on her property.”
Abby glared at Bree. “I did not trespass. I was invited.” Then, dismissing her, Abby turned to Noah and batted her lashes. “Would you be so kind as to give me a ride home, Deputy Reed?” Her syrupy southern accent thickened with each word.
Bree rolled her eyes, making sure it was a gesture Noah couldn’t miss.
“Sorry, Ms. Parsons, but we’ve got another call. The geese are corralled, and you’re just a short walk down the road.”
“How do you expect me to walk all that way barefoot?” It was as if Scarlett O’Hara had been resurrected.
Noah earned brownie points when he didn’t fall for the routine. “I don’t expect you to walk barefooted, Ms. Parsons. I expect you to put on those shoes.”
She looked at them, her eyes wide with horror. “I couldn’t possibly.”
Bree had had enough. She marched to the back wall of the house and grabbed the hose. She twisted the faucet and, with Noah looking on in bemusement and Abby in disbelief, she squeezed the nozzle, spraying the goop off the shoes from where she stood. To say there was overspray was an understatement. “There. Problem solved.”
“Th-they’re soaked. My dress is soaked. I’m soaked.”
“But clean enough for you to get on home all by your little old self.” Bree gazed across the property. “And if I were you, I’d get those shoes on and beat feet before Mrs. McNulty comes back with her feathered friends.”
Abby tucked loose strands of hair behind her ear in a vain attempt to right her appearance. “What ever happened to ‘Protect and Serve’?”
“That’s a police motto, ma’am. ‘Committed to Excellence’ is the promise of the sheriff’s department.”
“Well, I would hardly call this little episode ‘excellence.’ I don’t imagine anyone would.”
Noah hooked his thumbs in his duty belt. “Well, now, I s’pose that’s a matter of opinion.”
Noah’s supportive words filled Bree with an unexpected warmth. But then she checked herself. Why did she care about the validation of a man she’d known for only a matter of hours?
Ms. Parsons, apparently heeding Bree’s advice, ceased arguing and took off at a clipped pace, barefoot and bedraggled, her spine rigid with anger, soggy shoes dangling from her hand.
Bree and Noah followed her to the McNultys’ front yard and watched to make sure she made it to her front porch before heading back to their cruiser.
“Ooo, doggy. She was madder than a wet hen.”
“Is that supposed to be funny?” Bree reached for the car door, pleased Noah was still giving her the wheel.
He slid into the passenger seat. “It was. A little bit funny. Admit it.”
“I will not.” Bree fished out the keys.
“You could’ve gone easier on her, you know.”
“I could have, but I chose not to. You have a problem with that?”
“Not a bit. Just wondered if that’s your general MO when dealing with the shenanigans of infidelity.”
“If you’re asking if I look the other way, no, I do not. I mostly believe that people who cheat get what they deserve.” She cranked the engine.
“For what it’s worth, I don’t hold with infidelity, either.”
“I’m sure your future wife will be very happy to know that, but why are you telling me?”
“You told me your view. Just thought I’d share mine.” He scrubbed a hand across his face. “Look, I’ve had enough of the McNulty-Parsons drama for one day. Let’s get out of here.”
Bree turned and fixed him with her sternest look. “Not yet. We have unfinished business.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, seriously. Don’t even try to convince me you didn’t see those stupid geese attacking me. You made it to the backyard way too fast when I radioed in. You were already at the corner of the house, watching.”
Bigger than the Rio Grande, his stupid grin spread across his face again.
“I knew it. You better not have a video of it.”
When he didn’t deny it, Bree crossed her arms, a habit when angry. She immediately regretted it. “I don’t know what hurts more, my backside or my boob.”
“We can stop at the store and pick up some goose ointment.”
“Oh, you’re hilarious.”
“For real.” Noah erupted in laughter. “It’s actually called goose grease. Good for the relief of minor aches and pains.”
The man found humor in everything, and it was time for a dose of his own medicine. Leaning toward him and batting her lashes, she drawled as well as Scarlett herself. “Why, you know I’m just a little ol’ city girl stuck out here in the big, bad country. Would you be ever so kind, Deputy Reed, as to drop me at the office?” Switching back to her normal voice, she added, “I think I’ll see if the sheriff has someone else I can ride with.”
“Wow. Already?” His grin still sparkled. “You need to wrangle yourself up a better sense of humor, Delgado.”
Bree wore a small smile herself. “And you need to lasso yourself a more mature one, Reed.”
She glanced at him, expecting at least a chuckle. Instead, his grin disappeared, and he turned his head to look out the passenger window. For the life of her, she could not get a read on him. And truth be told, it didn’t matter. Forget his good looks. Ignore his soul-deep laughter. Mr. Happy-Go-Lucky wasn’t her type.
To banish the aggravating man from her mind, she turned her musings to more important things.
How do I get back to the justice center from here?
And...
How exactly does one care for a goose-bit boob?