I’ll love it.”
He hesitated. “Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.”
I sneezed, barely managing to grab some tissues from the holder to stuff my nose into. “Lawson, I missed Christmas, my nose hurts from blowing it, and I still have no phone connection. I need that gift.”
“But you have such pretty things,” he said as he handed me a square present. “Your jewelry, clothes, shoes. I love you prancing around in those five-inch heels.”
All of which would be gone soon, but he didn’t need to know that until the deed was done. After that debacle with his truck, I’d made up my mind. Lawson needed a better truck for his work. How could I not worry about him every day if he was driving that old rust bucket?
“I don’t only keep things of monetary value. I keep everything.”
I unwrapped the gift carefully, folded the paper, and put it aside. I popped open the lid of the box and burst out laughing. It was a recipe book—50 Ways to Eat Cock: Healthy Chicken Recipes with Balls.
“Are you trying to tell me something?” I choked. “I’m confused. Are you saying I can’t cook or I don’t suck your cock well enough?”
Lawson pointed at the book. “It’s a recipe book.”
“I love it.” I took it out and discovered there were other little treasures beneath: a coloring book for hen lovers, a book of chicken humor and puns, and a pair of the most adorable chicken crew socks.
“It’s perfect!” I threw my arms around him and hugged him, sneezing over his shoulder.
“Are you sure?” He held on to me, not bothered by me sneezing all over him. But then again, he’d snuggled and kissed me all through the past thirty-six hours. “I got them really cheap. Apparently, nobody wanted them.”
“I’m positive.” I pushed back from him and opened the book with the chicken jokes. I flipped to a random page and snickered. “Hey, Daddy, how does a chicken send mail to her friends?”
Lawson groaned. “Are we really doing this?”
“Yes, come on. You’ve gotta guess.”
“I seriously have no clue.”
“In a hen-velope.” Lawson shook his head while I giggled at my own joke. “Wanna hear another one?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Well, you should’ve thought of that before you bought me this book. You’re just begging for it.”
He sighed and settled back on the blanket. Ms. Cluck ran right to me.
“Ah, she’s possessive just like me,” I murmured.
“Hey, Opie, I’ve got one.”
My eyes widened. “You do? Let’s hear it.”
“What happens to the hen that tries to come between Daddy and his boy?”
I gasped. “You wouldn’t.” I plucked Ms. Cluck from the blanket and held her away from him. “Beast.”
“Sounds fitting because you’re my beauty.”
My heart melted, and I let Ms. Cluck go to scramble in Daddy’s lap.
31
Lawson
I told Opie my plans the evening before I was due to leave for Florida to meet with my parents and discuss the potential of the ranch. It was three days after Christmas, and I wanted to get it over with before I changed my mind. That wouldn’t do any good. I needed to pay off the mortgage and work toward rebuilding the place. It might not be what granddad had wanted, but it was time for me to set my pride and dreams aside.
Hope wouldn’t put food on the table or ensure a roof stayed over my and Opie’s head. I wanted to ask him to stay with me. To leave his life in Denver and make one here with me, but I couldn’t do that when all I could promise him was an uncertain future.
He deserved better than that.
Opie was doing a lot of the talking while Ms. Cluck wandered around the kitchen. Seriously, if she managed to fall into my skillet, it would be for the better, but for some reason Opie had bonded with the bird, so I indulged him in keeping an unlikely animal for a pet.
“Opie, can we talk for a bit.”
He paused and glanced up from his ham—the ham we’d finally been able to prepare.
“Did I do something wrong?” he said tightly. “Whatever it is, I’m sorry.”
“No, no, you didn’t.” I placed a hand over his. “Don’t jump to conclusions. I just need to talk to you about something important.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll be going to Florida tomorrow.”
His fork clattered to his plate. “Florida? Isn’t that where your parents live?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I can’t manage this place on my own, Opie. The last straw was the truck…” I shook my head. “It fucking sucks because the last thing I want to