One Chance, Fancy (Bear Bottom Guardians MC 5)

Bayou looked nervous for a few long seconds as he waited for me to explain.

When I only smiled brightly at him, putting on my best innocent face, he narrowed his eyes.

“Please tell me you won’t be bringing any pigs,” he pleaded.

I smiled at him. “No pigs.”

He looked relieved.

Little did he know that I did have a skunk—though it was domesticated, it was still a skunk.

Bayou turned to my sister. “What does she have?”

He almost seemed nervous now.

“A skunk, a baby goat, and two birds.” She paused. “But they all live at my dad’s, so you don’t have to worry.”

His eyes locked on mine. “What kind of birds?”

“The kind that are probably illegal,” I admitted.

I mean, technically, it wasn’t illegal any longer.

His eyes went wild for a few seconds. “Keeping wild birds in cages against their will is unethical.”

I shook my head. “I don’t keep them in cages—at least one of them I don’t. Honestly, they stay in the backyard. I’ve tried to set them free so many times that it’s unreal. They just keep coming back.”

“What kind of birds?” he asked.

I looked over at my father, who was studiously ignoring us as he looked at the baby in his hands.

“A…hawk.”

Bayou opened his mouth and then closed it.

“Those are dangerous to have as pets. You have to have a falconer’s permit issued through Texas Parks and Wildlife. You have to…”

“Birdie’s got all that,” Dad mumbled. “She started this program suddenly when she was sixteen. All of a sudden decided that that was what she wanted to do after finding a nearly dead red-tailed hawk out in the woods. It was a baby that’d fallen from its nest. She nursed it back to health out in the woods for months.”

“Like a real-life baby Hiccup,” Pru murmured as she closed her eyes. “The hawk was badly injured, and she thought Dad would just put it out of its misery. Therefore, she took care of it, nursed it back to health, and the hawk bonded with her. When Dad found out, he got pissed. Then he got pragmatic when he realized that they couldn’t just get the bird to go away, that it followed Phoebe relentlessly. So Dad started her apprenticing with a falconer, and at the age of nineteen Phoebe got her own falconer’s permit.”

I smiled, remembering those times.

Phantom, the hawk that I’d nursed back to life, had only come to be because of Bayou. He had no clue that he’d changed me in such a way that I was saving birds because I knew that he liked them.

“Oh.” Bayou paused. “You said two.”

“She has a mockingbird that she nursed back to health, too.” Dad looked up. “Didn’t you have somewhere you needed to be?”

Bayou nodded. “Tell me the mockingbird’s story.”

“Much the same as the first,” Dad said. “Found it outside next to the birdfeeder almost dead. One of the cats got it. She found the bird and fed it, thinking it probably wouldn’t live, but the little bugger survived.”

“You live in an apartment,” Bayou said. “How does that work?”

“I keep Phantom at my dad’s place, also.” I said. “I go out there every day for hours and work her. It would be nice to have her near me, though. That’s also why I want to rent a house with some backyard space.”

“Where does the mockingbird stay?” he questioned.

“My dad’s backyard,” I answered. “He comes to visit me at my apartment sometimes, though. They’re very intelligent creatures.”

“How far away are you from your dad’s place?” he pushed.

“About a mile,” I said. “I think he followed my car home one day. That’s at least all I can come up with. I’m not really sure if that’s actually the case or not.”

Bayou looked like he had a hundred more questions. “You’re going to be late.”

He winced. “I have to go.”

Then he was gone without another word.

Dad was the first to speak.

“I remember him having a fascination with birds,” Dad said. “I should’ve put two and two together back then.”

I shrugged.

But, speaking of Phantom…

“I do have to go myself,” I admitted. “I have to take Phantom out and work her. I also have to go get cleaned off. I think I have blood on my shoe.”

Pru snorted. “You do not.”

“I have blood…and other juices,” I told her, lifting my foot.

“I think the word you’re looking for is ‘pee,’” my mother said.

I walked over to where she was standing next to Pru’s bedside still and handed her the baby.

I tilted my head at her curiously. “Why were you so quiet?”

“The man is intense,” she said. “Are you sure you want to go there?”

My eyes widened. “Yes.”

I didn’t pretend to misunderstand her question.

“He doesn’t want any kids,” she persisted.

My mother knew that I wanted a whole slew of them.

“I’ll work on him,” I teased.

“Seriously, one day when he has a kid, I’m going to live it up. I’m going to remind him of the moment, and never let him forget his words.”