48. Cohen

God, this woman was beautiful. Especially when she was sleeping with her curly hair messy around her face and her full lips parted.

Ever since she'd walked into my bar, I'd been captivated by her, but every second I spent with her made me like her more. I knew she was worried about her job, but I wished I could tell her I'd take care of her. That she didn't need to worry about a place to live or food to eat or anything at all. But it was too soon, and the last thing I wanted to do was scare her away.

Time would make all the difference, and as far as I was concerned, she could have all of mine.

I wanted to take her out and show her to the world, but I had a different idea instead. I kissed her awake, placing my lips on her shoulder, her chin, her cheek. "What do you think of birdwatching?" I asked her.

She curled closer into me, her body so so soft. "I love that idea," she said in that sweet voice of hers. "But are you worried someone will see us?"

"There's a trail at Emerson Trails that no one ever goes on. I honestly think they've forgotten to maintain it at this point."

Her blue eyes brightened. "Yeah?"

I nodded. "I even got a couple pairs of binoculars."

"You did that for me?" A smile formed on her lips.

Would it be bad to admit I'd bought binoculars on Amazon moments after she'd told me she liked birdwatching, just so I wouldn't forget? "Of course," I said instead.

"Let me get ready and then we can go," she replied. The moment her body left mine, I felt cold, but I knew it wouldn't be long before I was holding her hand again. Going a moment without touching her felt like too long.

I got dressed and did my hair, and then we went down to my car. As soon as I had the car out of the parking garage, I took her hand in mine. Her hands were so soft, aside from the silver ring she wore stamped with birds in flight. Sometimes she spun it around her finger, usually when she was nervous, sometimes when she was in thought.

We stopped at a drive-through for a quick breakfast and coffee and then continued toward our destination.

"How did you find out about this trail?" she asked.

"I run in the mornings, and one time I took a wrong turn." I shrugged. "Happy accident. But last time I was running, I noticed a few woodpeckers and even an owl. I'm not sure what kind it was, but I thought maybe you would know."

Her eyes lit up just like I'd hoped they would. "I'm your gal." She gestured her free thumb toward her chest, and damn, if I hadn't been driving, I would have let myself get way more distracted by her full tits and what I could do with them to make her scream my name.

I shifted, hoping to hide the way my body reacted so easily. I was like a fucking teenager, tenting my pants at even the hint of a breeze.

Luckily, the trails weren't too far from my apartment—one of the reasons I'd chosen the place—and I adjusted myself on my side of the car.

She got out and said, "You're right. I didn't even realize this was here. You can't see the turnoff through all the trees."

"Exactly," I said, walking her way. She easily walked along my side, and I slipped my arm around her waist, squeezing her lush hips toward me.

Just as easy as breathing, she tilted her beautiful face toward me, and I bent to kiss those luscious lips.

We walked onto the trail, barely wide enough for us to walk side by side, and the trees enveloped us in shade and silence. We couldn't even hear cars on the road once we got a little ways down the trail.

"What do you see?" I asked her.

"Birdwatching is a misnomer," she said. "In my opinion, it all starts with bird hearing." She paused, turning toward me and putting her arms around my waist.

I felt like fucking Superman with her holding onto me like that. I put my arms around her too, listening to the quiet of the trees around us. Soon, a small twitter came, and Birdie pointed in the direction the sound had come from. She lifted her binoculars and whispered, "Butterbutt."

I snorted. "What did you just call me?"

She rolled her eyes, laughing. "That's what the bird's called." She pointed to a spot midway up a tall sycamore.

I followed her finger with the binoculars and found a bird with a patch of yellow on its rump. Butterbutt. That name was adorable. I wanted to tell Ollie about it. "I see it," I said.

"Nice," she replied.

I glanced sideways to see her looking at it, a small smile on her pink lips. All her lipstick was long gone by now, but I loved the natural color of her mouth and the flush that so easily came to her cheeks.

The knobbly sound of a woodpecker came above the Butterbutt's song, and I turned my binoculars that direction. I spotted it with my eye first, then zeroed in on it, pointing for Birdie to follow.

"Do you ever wonder if they get headaches?" she said.

I laughed. "What?"

"I mean, banging their beaks against wood all day can't be comfortable."

"I never thought about it," I said, smiling and shaking my head. "But you're probably right. Think we should toss him some aspirin?"

She chuckled. "A little birdy aspirin for Mr. Woodpecker? I need to ask the vet at Ralphie's next checkup."

The thought of her taking her white dove to the vet like a doting parent made my heart want to burst out of my chest, and I looked away, searching for another bird. "Want to walk farther?"

"Sure," she said.

We walked, hand in hand, her walking ahead when the trail narrowed. We spotted a few birds she said were pretty common, like the California Towhee and the Oak Titmouse. My personal favorite was the California Scrub-Jay with its beautiful blue feathers.

"Stop!" Birdie cried, and I froze mid-step.

She rushed off the trail, kneeling before a small nest of twigs and leaves. I immediately saw what she had—a bald baby bird, its skin still pink, lying beside the nest.

My heart wrenched at it and then the dead sibling just a foot away. "Where's its mom?" I looked around, as if I could spot its parent. Obviously, its mother was nowhere to be seen.

Birdie shook her head. "I have no idea." She looked around, her eyes darting all over the ground.

"What do you need?" I asked.

"Something soft so I can carry it. Do you see anything?"

I undid my top button and slipped my shirt over my head, stripping down to my plain white undershirt. In the back of my mind, I was glad I had just bought a new pack, but the thought quickly went away as I saw how gently Birdie took the little fledgling into the shirt.

Her eyes were wide with worry as she stood, holding the bird in my shirt close to her chest.

"Let's go," I said, even though she was already walking toward the car. She was a woman on a mission, and I had to lengthen my stride just to keep up.

We made it to the small dirt parking lot in a fourth of the time it had taken us to walk on the trail, and I held the door open for her so she could carefully slide inside. I even reached across her, doing the belt so she didn't have to jostle the baby.

As soon as I got in, she said, "Head toward LA. There's a vet that specializes in birds between here and there."

I nodded, shifting the car into gear and taking off down the road. In Birdie's lap, the little bird cheeped softly, and she cooed to it, talking so gently as if even her words could cause it to break.

"Hey, little guy," she whispered. "I know it's so scary to fall out of your nest and be away from your mommy. Cohen and I are taking you to the best of the best. Dr. Needermeier is going to take amazing care of you and get you back in the forest in no time. I promise."

This woman was amazing. I couldn't believe anyone had ever let her go. I promised myself I'd do my best to keep her as I quickly took the roads toward LA.

She told me which exit to take off the freeway, then guided me down city roads until we approached an animal hospital.

I wanted to help her out, but before I could even get to her side of the car, she was out and hustling toward the building.

The second we were inside, she greeted the receptionist by name and said, "We have a rescue."

Judging by the way everyone jumped to action, I realized this wasn't a new experience for any of them. My shoulders instantly relaxed as the veterinary technician promised Birdie they would care for it well and take it to the animal rescue as soon as its medical needs had been cared for.

Birdie transferred the bundle to the vet tech and looked at me. "Is it okay if they keep your shirt?"

All this worry for saving a bird and she was thinking of me? "Of course," I said.

The vet tech turned to walk away, and Birdie said, "Wait, can I say goodbye?"

Of course she wanted to say goodbye.

She leaned over the small bundle and whispered softly to the bird, her eyes shining with tears.

I was utterly convinced Birdie put every other human to shame. I wasn't sure what I would have done if I'd happened across the bird on my own, but I knew it wouldn't have been greeted with a tenth of the love Birdie had shown it in the limited time we had with it.

I leaned over Birdie's shoulder, looking at the pink bird, and rubbed her back. "You're going to do great, little guy," I promised. "Birdie found you for a reason." Just like me.