Page 12 of Rent a Bad Boy

Turns out, Everett will.

“How did you...?” I also can’t form full sentences right now, I guess.

That’s okay, because he seems to understand. “I drove you home, remember?” He’s not looking at me. He’s sizing up the yard, studying the coop, watching the chickens going about their business with absolutely not a single care that we now have a visitor. I’ve never so much wished I could think the way a chicken does.

Grandma, meanwhile, is loving this. Why would she want to go back inside when there’s so much entertainment out here? She leans against the porch railing with her arms crossed while her smile gets wider by the second. “Looks like my granddaughter’s been holding out on me. I didn’t know she had a good-looking boyfriend.”

Kill me now, God. I’m ready. “He’s not my⁠—”

“Where have you been hiding this hunk, honey?” She always leans on alliteration when she’s feeling sassy. “If I had a boyfriend who looked like him, I would have him over every night.”

“He’s not my boyfriend, Grandma.”

“Does he know that?” She tilts her head at him. “Did you know that, honey?”

His gaze bounces back and forth between us. “News to me,” he replies while I do my best to dissolve into the earth and never come back.

“See?” She gestures at him with one hand before shaking her head at me. “He didn’t get the memo. You should fix that.”

“There’s no memo because there’s nothing to fix because he’s not—” This is ridiculous. “Grandma, can you please go inside?”

“Why? This is fun. It’s not every day I get to meet one of your friends, since you never bring anybody home. Are you staying for dinner?” she asks him, because she is absolutely determined to humiliate me today. “I can’t cook, but I’ll order something.”

“He’s not staying for dinner.”

“Let the man speak for himself, Isla. You know, I was young once, too. I remember what it was like when a handsome man showed up at the door. Of course, that was before your grandfather swept me off my feet. George was something else.” She presses a hand to her chest and bats her eyelashes. “Six foot four and could dance like nobody’s business.”

When she tips her head at Everett again, I know he’s in trouble. “You know, you remind me of him. Big. Quiet. The quiet ones are always trouble.”

I have to give him credit. He’s handling this well. “So I’ve been told,” he murmurs, while his mouth twitches in a way that tells me he’s trying not to laugh.

“I bet you have.” She gives him a wink, then laughs. “Well, I need my beauty sleep before my date tonight, so I’ll leave you two alone. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

She pauses in the doorway and looks over her shoulder. “Of course, that doesn’t narrow it down too much.”

“You don’t look like you need much beauty sleep,” Everett offers, because the universe hates me.

“I like this one,” she tells me, jerking a thumb at him before she finally, blessedly disappears. The back door swings shut with a bang, leaving me standing in my backyard in my holey sweatpants.

She was right. I don’t bring friends home, mostly because I don’t really have friends. That means I don’t have a clue how to act now. “She’s...” I start.

“She’s great,” he tells me with a grin.

“I was going to say insane.”

“Both things can be true.” Cardigan has now wandered over and gives the toe of his boot an experimental peck. He shoves his hands into his pockets and watches her. “So. These are the chickens.”

Thank God for the change in subject. This, I can handle. “Yes, these are my babies.” I set the feed bag down and wipe my hands on my pants, which doesn’t help since they’re already covered in feed and feathers. “This is Cardigan. She’s the friendliest. If you let her, she’ll eat out of your hand.”

He stares down at her. She glances up at him before pecking his toe again. The size difference is kind of hilarious. This guy could punt her into the stratosphere without even trying.

That’s a funny thought for me to have. What’s even funnier is how I don’t make any move to separate them, because instinctively, I know he wouldn’t do that. Not to an animal.

But maybe to a person.

He’s standing there, staring down, not moving a muscle. Like he’s not sure what to do. “Marjorie is over by the coop,” I explain. “She’s the smart one. Betty and Tennessee are pretty much inseparable—that’s them by the fence,” I add, pointing their way.

“Where’s the other one?” he asks, scanning the area.