12. Fable

Chapter 12

Fable

W hen I step outside my cabin the second day, it's to find Gunnar and Callie waiting for me. Today, Callie is wearing a cute poodle skirt paired with a leather jacket. Her hair is pulled up into two poofs on top of her head.

"I love your outfit," I tell her with a smile as I adjust my cheap hat. My shirt today is a simple pink button down and another pair of jeans. I'd only purchased two button downs, mostly because I didn't want to spend a ton of money on the overpriced themed clothing down in Florida. I figured I could find some here, but I haven't gone into Steele yet. "The leather goes well with the skirt."

"Doesn't it?" Callie beams as she gives a little twirl. "Clinton on What Not To Wear said it's always fun to pair different materials. Leather always pairs well with something soft for casual wear."

My brows shoot up. She says the words as if she's parroting from the show. "Well, Clinton certainly knows what he's talking about," I say, smiling at her.

Her smile widens before she grabs my hand and starts dragging me toward the big house. "Come on. Mel promised waffles today. I love his waffles. He has strawberry, chocolate chip, and pecan."

"Oh, I love chocolate chip waffles," I reassure her. "We don't want to miss out."

"Exactly!"

I look over my shoulder at Gunnar. His smile is soft as he watches his daughter drag me to the big house, but when he meets my eyes, a hungry spark flickers there that I convince myself I imagined. After all, there's not a reason he'd be interested in me. He could have anyone he wants.

" But he wants you ," Jinx announces as she appears in front of us leaning against the big house. " Let that man yee your haw, Fable! For fuck's sake ."

I flush despite no one else being able to hear her. If I were alone, I'd tell her that I'm not here to yee anyone's haw, and we'd probably argue back and forth. Jinx would have approached this as exactly that, a mission to smash as many cowboys as possible. Before, it might have been a fun game we both played, but now, I can't imagine doing so. No one here even knows about my leg.

My eyes glance over to Gunnar again. If I were to consider it though, Gunnar is a beautiful man. When he notices me looking, he flashes a cheeky grin my way, his cowboy hat tipping down in appraisal. The small hoops in his ears draw my eyes, a matching set to Callie's pretty ones. Maybe just a taste. . .

" That's my girl ," Jinx whispers in my mind.

When we find ourselves at the table, Callie insists on me sitting beside her. Gunnar sits on her other side. I spend the next thirty minutes hearing all about the different clothing that should be paired together, followed by what I should never wear. I listen intently the whole time, impressed with all the information that Callie seems to know. When Gunnar tells her it's time to head to the bus stop, they vacate their chairs while he does that, and I get a second to really take in the table.

Across from me, Rhett is teasing another man about his woman troubles. Jessie, I think his name was, is part of the barn crew and works with Gunnar. Rhett is carefree and seems to happily tease Jessie about the woman from a date the night before not calling him back. Despite it being so early in the morning, Rhett is so well put together, I almost expect him to be walking a runway. I don't understand how these men seem to look so good with such simple clothing. The shirt pulls across Rhett's chest and highlights his shoulders. Today, he's wearing a blue plaid one that only highlights his pretty blue eyes and copper-colored hair. Everything about him screams playboy, down to the wink he throws at me.

I still haven't met the dog trainer, but Gunnar reassured me he'll be back in a few days. I'm looking forward to meeting all the dogs and puppies that Circle Bee trains for bigger pastures.

And then there's Trent.

Trent Coldiron sits silently at the table, not interacting with anyone. He comes in and sits down, serves himself, drinks a mug of coffee, and he never says a word to anyone. He doesn't even look up from his food. To say I'm intrigued by him is an understatement.

Like the rest of the men here, Trent is a beautiful man, but where Rhett is all sculpted marble, Trent is a mountain. Literally. The man is big as fuck. He's easily over six feet and damn near at seven. His skin is a cool golden color, his long hair jet black and tied back, and his eyes are so dark they might as well be onyx. The shape of his eyes comes to a slight point and speak of a heritage I'd really like to ask about but know I shouldn't considering he's very clearly not interested in talking. He has muscles for days, but it's all covered by a soft layer, like he's a massive, strong teddy bear. Hell, he looks like he'd be right at home in the Game of Thrones show. The sudden image of him wielding a sword and in leather armor has me blinking and sitting back in surprise.

" Yummy ," Jinx says from Callie's empty chair. " I agree. Viking it is. Let that man pillage your pus ? — "

"Sorry about that," Gunnar interrupts as he plops back down in Callie's seat, chasing the image of Jinx away. "Callie really wants to be a fashion designer. She watches all the fashion shows religiously."

"I don't mind at all," I tell him with a smile. "To be honest, I've always been interested as well. I make clothes, too."

Gunnar blinks. "Like you're a fashion designer?"

I laugh and shake my head. "No. I just like to sew. It's a hobby."

"Still cool," he grins. "If you're done, you'll be with me again today. Apparently, I'm the most amicable of the lot." He leans closer and winks. "Plus, you're alright as far as company goes."

I smile. "And what will we be doing today?"

"I figured I'd take you to meet the rest of the animals around Circle Bee while we tackle some of the smaller tasks if that's okay with you?" He tilts his head. "Of course, you're always welcome to just hang out and not help on the ranch. It's totally up to you."

"No. That sounds amazing actually," I say.

Trent stands up from his seat and my eyes draw back to him as he carries his plate over to the bin. He doesn't say anything, but his eyes meet mine for a moment.

"Bye, Trenty Poo!" Gunnar says loudly. "I love you."

Trent scowls and gives Gunnar the finger. He doesn't look at me again. He just turns and leaves the room. The moment he's not in here, it feels as if there's suddenly so much more room.

"What's got up his ass lately?" Rhett asks, scowling in the direction Trent disappeared.

Gunnar shrugs. "Does it matter?" He stands and offers his hand. "Come on, Fable. Let me introduce you to some of the most important creatures on this farm."

Ten minutes later, I'm standing in the middle of a large chicken run, bigger than the one from the day before, a basket on my arm as I'm swarmed by hundreds of chickens and other types of birds. Peacocks, geese, ducks, a few exotic looking chickens, everything I could have imagined. There are even pigeons in here. Gunnar stands beside me as he throws a bit of chicken scratch down on the ground in front of me before switching to bird seed. He called this thing an Aviary, and while they're not necessarily important for eggs, they offer other things apparently.

"Don't ever wear sandals out here," Gunnar warns me. "These bastards will peck anything that moves and toes look an awful lot like worms to them. Trust me. It don't feel nice."

"Noted," I reply. "So what exactly are we doing?"

The rooster that Gunnar has been carrying on his shoulder sits outside the coop, watching through the chicken wire. He makes little chirping noises, but the hens and other birds pay him no mind. Apparently, he can't come in without them being mean to him. He's too small to hold his own against the large hens and the few roosters, which is why Gunnar has him. When he'd told me the story, I'd melted honestly. Any man who cares enough about an animal to save it is worth his weight in gold in my opinion. I have no illusions about how brutal ranch life can be. This is a business, and Mr. Frizzle is technically a freeloader, but Gunnar took him under his wing.

Something tells me that Gunnar does that with more than chickens.

"We're gathering eggs. Most of these birds don't lay every day, but we gotta collect them or else we'll be overrun." He sighs. "And we actually finally have enough chickens to supply everyone eggs on the ranch. We don't need no more."

"Do they have names?" I ask, leaning down to pet the feathers of the nearest pale grey chicken. She makes an offended sound and moves around me.

"Some of them do," Gunnar explains. "We had a few beers one night and started naming the hens silly names," Gunnar explains as he tosses out more scratch. He points to a large black hen. "That's Kylo Hen. The one beside her is Hen Solo. Trent likes Star Wars so there are a few with names like that. Like JarJar Beaks."

I snort. "JarJar Beaks? I love that."

"Yeah. We about all lost our shit at that one." He points to one of the larger roosters who struts at the attention and cock-a-doodle-doos so loud, it echoes in my ears. "That there is Cluck Norris."

He ends up naming a few off, pointing out each and every one of them. Mother Clucker, Drumstick, Tyrannosaurus Pecks, Chicken Little, Eggbert, Princess Lay-er, Amelia Egg-hart. We end up laughing together over them.

"What's that one?" I ask, pointing to a slim golden chicken.

"Oh that one?" Gunnar frowns. "I don't think she has a name yet." He bumps his shoulder with mine. "Wanna do the honors?"

I squint my eyes, trying to think of something good.

" Nugget ," Jinx exclaims. When I glance at her with a raised brow, she shrugs. " You know I was never good at names. I named my pet frog ‘Frog' for fuck's sake ."

Which is true. Frog lived for a total of three years before he met an untimely death when Jinx forgot to close both the top of his aquarium and the window. I like to think he leaped to his freedom more than he died, but realistically, he probably died. Still, Frog indeed had the worst name ever.

"Hennifer Lopez," I finally say with a smile.

Gunnar grins. "Hennifer Lopez. I like it." He taps Hennifer on the back and she makes a little clucking sound before dancing away. "Welcome to the flock, Hennifer."

We fill both my basket and Gunnar's full of eggs of all sizes, reaching into the nests to grab what's there. A few of the nests have hens sitting on them and we have to reach under them to fetch the eggs. I get pecked a few times and it hurts more than I expect it to. The hens have sharp beaks. We run out of room in the baskets so Gunnar pops a few in his pockets that won't fit.

We take them all inside the big house before he leads me back outside and around the chicken coops. Here, there are lots of pigs, not just Bacon. I wrinkle my nose at the smell of them but immediately forget about the smell when the little piglets come running up to the fence.

"Oh! Babies!" I cry, moving over to the fence.

"Don't reach over with the momma there," Gunnar warns. "She'll bite the shit out of you if you touch her babies."

"They're so cute," I muse, looking down at them. "Do they have names?"

Gunnar shifts. ‘We don't name the pigs on account of. . . well, we eat them."

I blink. "Oh. Yeah. Of course. That makes sense."

Still, my eyes linger on the large pig and her gentle sniffing at me. The temptation to reach through and pet her is strong, but I resist in front of Gunnar. If she bites me, I don't want him to see.

"And finally, we have the main guineas," Gunnar says, pulling me to another large coop looking structure.

"Guineas?" I repeat, looking in at the large grey birds. They're simple looking. A little bit bigger than the chickens but more derpy looking. "We collect their eggs, too?"

"Yep," Gunnar says. "Just go on in there and grab them. There probably aren't as many eggs as the chickens."

"You aren't coming in with me?" I ask, frowning at him.

"I will in a second."

His expression is serene as he unhooks the door and opens it for me. I hesitate when all the guineas turn to look at me. A few of them have babies clustered under them, peeking out at me.

"Okay," I draw out, stepping inside the door slowly. "Why are they all looking at me like that?"

"Oh, Guineas are just hyper aware of predators. You're a big creature in there with them," he explains.

I take another step and the Guineas with babies under them straighten and make sounds of displeasure. I stop. "Uh, Gunnar? They're not gonna attack me, are they?"

"You should be fine," he says.

I take another step, and the guinea takes one closer to me. I stop again. "Maybe you should do this."

"Don't tell me you're scared of a few Guineas, Everhart," he teases, but there's laughter in his words. "Just move fast and they won't get you."

Taking a deep breath, I take a step toward the nests. The nearest mother lets out a sound that I can only describe as a war cry and lowers her head. She flaps her wings and immediately rushes me. I screech and throw the basket at her, which seems to only piss off the other moms. They make the same sort of sound and rush me.

" It's an ambush! " Jinx shouts in my head. " Fall back, Everhart! "

I stumble backward toward the door, trying to get out before they get me. Gunnar opens it just in time for me to trip and fall down on my tailbone. He closes the door behind me and doubles over, laughter spilling from his ridiculously kissable lips.

"You should have seen your face," he gets out between laughs as he points at me.

"Haha. Very funny," I mock, scowling and dragging myself to my feet.

"Don't be mad," he chuckles. "I just wanted to see how you'd handle it. The Guineas don't let anyone in their coop when they have babies. You haven't seen funny until you see Colt screaming and running out with Guineas attacking him."

A chuckle slips out. I haven't officially met Colt, but I can imagine how funny it must have looked when you're not the one getting attacked. "Alright, alright. But I'll have you know, if you're going to start pranking me, that makes you fair game. A prank war is a prank war."

He grins and grabs my hand. Before I realize what he's doing, he presses his lips to my knuckles and looks up at me beneath the rim of his hat. "I'd love nothing more than to be pranked by you, Fable." He straightens and releases my hand but where his lips touched, it burns. "You guys got anacondas in Florida? You wrestle them gators out there?"

I snort. "No and no. We do have pythons and boas though. Wild ones now. They're fucking up the ecosystem. As for the gators, do I look like the kind of girl to wrestle a gator?"

He shrugs. "You look like the kind of girl to ride into battle if I'm being honest. Can't say gators don't sound easier than that."

I blink and meet his eyes.

" The man says all the right words ," Jinx sighs. " I approve ."

"A gator is practically a dinosaur," I point out.

"So are those Guineas," he shrugs. "Your point?"

"That I ran from the Guineas!" I laugh, shaking my head. I bump my shoulder into his and he bumps mine back, and something settles into place.

I like Gunnar. I like Gunnar a lot more than I realized.

"So who else are we gonna meet?" I ask, beaming up at him.