Christmas Tales - Brandon Witt Page 0,16

his head and let the chickens do a hunt and peck. “What the hell does that mean?”

He pointed to Claudia, the burnt orange hen closest to his feet. “They’re nothing but fluff balls. They’re like poodle chickens. I think if you stapled five of them together, they’d turn back into a poodle.”

I started to growl at him but then took another look at Claudia. Shit, I could actually see what he meant. It took effort not to chuckle, but it was worth it.

He didn’t stop. “I mean, they’re cute and all, for chickens.” He shook his head. “Now there’s something I never thought I’d say. But besides being cute, there’s not much to them. I doubt you could get a meal out of two of them put together.”

“Seriously? You just ate Faloola. You’re really going to start looking at my other birds like dinner?”

He raised his hands in the air. “No. I’m saying they wouldn’t make a good dinner.” He glanced down again mumbling. “Kind of a waste of a chicken, if you ask me.”

Though he’d said it quietly, his deep voice carried. I felt my temper rise. “You know, maybe not everything is placed on this earth for you to eat. Cochin chickens aren’t for food. They’re show chickens. They’re meant to be beautiful.”

Raymond made a production of glancing between me and the chicken. Finally, he bowed toward Claudia. “I beg your pardon, madam. I did not know I was in the presence of royalty. I’m sure your pedigree is better than mine.”

Still holding his bow, he grinned over at me when I laughed. Yes, dammit, I laughed. I couldn’t help it.

With a flourish of fingers, Raymond stood back up.

There was that warmth again. And the bite that seemed to come along with it.

I pushed it aside. “You know, I’ve known your uncle for a long time now. And if Old Man Webber is part of your heritage, I can guarantee you that Claudia comes from purer stock. And I have the papers to prove it.”

He laughed. A calming, content sound. “Well, you’ll get no argument from me there. Still, had no idea there were such things as show chickens. Fancy stuff.”

“Wait till you see my pheasants. There’re all kinds of show birds, but, really, cochins aren’t that fancy. Someday I’m going to get a brood of Swedish Black Hens. Then I’ll really have some fancy chickens.”

Raymond kept his teasing tone. “And what’s so special about them? Are they actually royal?”

“No, but from what they cost, you’d sure think so. They’re all this gorgeous shiny black. Even their comb, beak, and wattle. Everything.” I couldn’t keep the excitement out of my tone. I’d been considering paying the too much money for a long time now.

For once, Raymond seemed speechless. “Well, I think that sounds—” His gaze found mine. “—delicious.”

Apparently, not so speechless.

We stared at each other.

I debated killing him. Actually killing him.

Then he gave the crooked, devil grin, and I laughed. So very, very hard.

* * *

If walking around feeding and shutting up the birds with Raymond by my side was unsettling, it was nothing to having him sit across the table from me and eating dinner.

For some reason, the equal mix of warmth and pain became unbalanced with him so near, in my space, eating food.

“This is really, really good.” I was doing my best to simply find something to say. But that didn’t make it untrue. It was delicious. I tried not to think about eating poached venison. Although, Raymond’s rationale kind of made sense. “The cilantro is amazing.”

The grin again. “The cilantro? Really? Afraid to compliment the deer since it might make you an accomplice?”

My cheeks heated.

I searched for something else. Anything. “I, uhm, noticed your Winnebago. You got a ton of solar panels on that thing.”

Raymond’s playful grin gave way to bright eyes and a boyish smile, like how I imagined I looked when talking about my birds. “Groovy, right? And it runs like a dream. Been living in that thing for ages now. Course, didn’t always have solar power. Gonna cover the roof of the house too, pretty soon.”

I paused with my forkful of food in midair. “The roof? Of your house? Won’t that cause a glare?” Wonderful. If my roosters didn’t crow early enough to wake me up, the glare from his fucking house streaming through my windows would.

“Nah. The newer ones aren’t like that at all. Don’t worry, I’m not gonna blind ya.”

For a second I felt bad that he’d interpreted my