Page 72 of The Keeper and I

He stood up and stilled, wondering how to say goodbye. She got to her feet as well. She didn’t go in for a hug, but she wasn’t closed off either. She was letting him take the lead. He considered a hug, but hesitated. He wasn’t sure he was ready.

“Uh…I’ll see you,” he said with a nod.

“Right,” she said, resigned as she picked up her purse.

After one last lingering look, he left the coffee shop.

Chapter 18

Aftercheckingherhairto ensure it had that proper sexy fluff about it, Laci headed down to her kitchen. She got to keep the lingerie she wore for her photoshoot that day, and it was the perfect pink, sheer lace weapon for another attempt at getting Jordan to cave. It left little to the imagination, which was precisely what she was after.

She set the mood, too, with the fresh peonies he’d gotten her in the vase on her counter, a couple candles flickering, and her lights dimmed. There was no mistaking the romantic atmosphere.

As attracted as they were to each other, there was something else as well. She couldn’t explain it—and there was a lot she couldn’t explain these days—but she knew what it meant. Maybe, after being with her, Jordan might see that relationships weren’t so bad and what started off as pretend could become real.

She glanced at the clock. He was due back from training any minute. She chose that day because she always felt the most confident after a lingerie shoot. Looking down, she wondered what she could do to make herself more enticing.

“Nipples!” she said with a snap of her fingers.

They’d be more tempting if they were hard, so she trotted over to the back window. The chilly January air would perk them up. She slid the window up, and a blast of cold did the trick. They became more visible beneath the fabric of her bra. Jordan would lose it.

The triumph was short-lived as a mass of gray swooped over her head with a feathery flapping sound. She screamed and ducked, protecting her head with her arms. When silence followed, she chanced a look.

A fat pigeon stood on her kitchen island.

It cooed, and its head twitched around as it strutted over the marble. Laci watched in horror as it walked over the cheese plate she’d set out. Pigeons in London weren’t timid, but this crossed a line.

“Okay,” she whispered, taking a deep breath to draw on her courage. “Okay, it’s a bird. Just a bird.”

Keeping her eyes trained on the bird and her back pressed to the wall, she sidestepped into the kitchen. It fluttered its wings and hopped. Laci yelped with alarm, but it didn’t take flight again. She had a small saucepan drying on a rack by the sink that was about pigeon sized. Even if it wasn’t, it was all she had. In slow motion, she reached for it and wrapped her fingers around the handle. Her eyes tracked the bird as she took hold of the lid with her free hand.

Like a lioness on the hunt, she slunk toward the counter, the saucepan poised and ready to strike. The bird ruffled its feathers, and she froze. Thankfully, it carried on again. She realized how absurd she must look, stalking a pigeon in the middle of her kitchen, wearing lingerie no less, but that didn’t matter. She needed to get the damn thing out of her house.

Holding her breath, she raised the pot over her head, waiting for the bird to stop moving. The moment it was still with its wings tucked in, she brought the cookware down over it in one swift motion.

It moved.

She squealed and held it firm.

“Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod,” she squeaked, pulling it over to the edge of the countertop, lid at the ready.

Shuddering at the sound of wings rapping against the metal, she closed it in. Then she let out a breath. The bird was secured. All she had to do was get it out. On wobbly legs, she made her way back toward the window it had flown in through. She was wondering if it would fly right back in when the front door opened.

“Laci,” Jordan said as he walked in, throwing his bag to the side. “I’ve got something great to tell you. I spoke to my mother this morning.”

“Youwhat?” she gasped, letting her arms fall to the side and releasing the pigeon back into the house. “Oh, fuck!”

It flew straight at Jordan’s head. He caught it out of the air like a cat with reflexes no doubt formed from endless hours of keeper drills. He shot her a bewildered look.

“What have you got him for?” he asked.

“He fl…he flew in!” she cried. “I opened my window to…to…well, it’smywindow to open as I please, and he just flew in!”

“So, you were going to…boil him? As punishment?”

She huffed. “No, I was trying to get him back outside.”

He spied the open window behind her, walked over, and hurled the bird through it before closing it again. Without saying anything else, he went to the sink and washed his hands. Keeping his back to her, he spoke again. “Any reason you were doing all this in your knickers?”