Not the same thing. Not anywhere close to the same thing.
“But…I don’t have an incubator,” I hesitated.
Chapter 6
If cauliflower can somehow become pizza, you, too, can be anything.
-Cora’s Secret Thoughts
Cora
We left the eggs in his office, and he took me to lunch.
Why we were going to lunch first before the feed store where he said there were incubators, I didn’t know. But I wasn’t complaining. Nor did I think I should question him when he was adamant about feeding me—food was life.
“So…the woman that you were arguing with that I saved you from…what’s up with her? I know that she’s your ex-wife, and I know that you apparently don’t get along. Tell me why,” I questioned.
He looked over at me as he turned out of the parking lot of his business. “You just go right for the heart, don’t you?”
I shrugged. “It’s easier to say what you want than to sit on it so the other person doesn’t know that you have a problem.”
He grunted. “Amen to that. Can’t tell you how many fuckin’ times I saw that when I was a drill sergeant. There were times that I’d know that something was wrong, so I’d watch the recruits, waiting for them to tell me. But they were so fuckin’ scared that they’d say something and then they’d get in trouble that they just held it in. Sometimes it was comical, and other times, not so much.”
I found myself grinning, thinking about what he would’ve done to a recruit who wasn’t speaking his mind.
“Anyway, to answer your question,” he started. “Beatrice and I met our senior year of high school. I was the boy from the wrong side of the tracks, and she was the good girl who wanted to defy her daddy.”
I winced.
“We met, and she convinced herself that dating me, the poorest boy in six counties, was the perfect way to piss off her strict father. She even went so far as to convince me that she loved me. Then, not realizing that she was a bitch who was just playing me, I thought I had hit the jackpot. Beatrice was beautiful, wealthy and loved me. What more could a boy like me ask for?”
Since I knew this story didn’t have a happy ending, I looked down at the floor instead of the emotion now boiling deep in Coke’s eyes.
“The one and only time we slept together in high school, I fucked up and got her pregnant. Though, I didn’t learn until much later that she’d been using me to just have a bit of fun, pretended to be more into me then she was, and finally threw me a bone by sleeping with me right before she was planning to end our relationship. The pregnancy was an accident—at least on my part. When her dad found out, he forced her to marry me—it was the right thing to do for the baby. Beatrice’s anger stemmed from the fact that me and the baby fucked up her grand plan of becoming a trophy wife. Now she had to marry me. I loved her in the beginning, but she never loved me—not like a woman should love her man.”
I bit my lip and looked back up at him with pity.
His ex-wife sounded like a real bitch.
Not that I would tell him that.
“Anyway, long story short, I was forced to live with her for years trying to make that shit work. Shit that she didn’t want to work out. Shit she sabotaged by being her bitchy self. Trash talk her own daughter? Why not? She didn’t care. Treat her kid and her husband like shit? No problem as long as it didn’t hurt her. I’m convinced we only made it as long as we did because I was in the army from the age of nineteen until I was thirty-one. While I was gone, and I’m pretty sure even when I wasn’t, she fucked anyone and everyone and then blamed me because I cheated.”
I hesitated before I asked my next question. “Did you cheat?”
I didn’t question my need to know. It was a compulsion, though, that urged me to find out…I just really needed to know.
He turned into the parking lot of the Taco Shop and shut the truck off before shifting in his seat to look at me. “Can you blame me?”
After what he’d explained? Hell no, I sure as hell couldn’t. But, one wrong didn’t make a right. Not to mention that if he did cheat, that wasn’t a good thing. Once a cheater, always a cheater…right?
He must’ve read my indecision on my face because he put me out of my misery with his next explanation.
“I didn’t actually cheat on her, though,” he admitted. “I got close to someone that I considered a friend. I was happy just being her friend. She was a student at a nearby college. It was the only sliver of happiness that I had outside of my daughter. Beatrice took offense to that because if she wasn’t happy, then I couldn’t be either. She threw a wall-eyed fit, and I decided that I’d rather face her father’s wrath, and the possibility of him taking away my business, rather than continue in that farce of a marriage. Beatrice was making my daughter and I miserable.”
I started to wonder about this college student that he was speaking of.
I was also a college student—well, a graduate student actually, but close enough.
I was working on my master’s degree in fine arts, and I was still technically in college—even if the remainder of the courses were online, and I was down to taking one course this semester.
I breathed a sigh of relief as he finished explaining his decision not to cheat, and then thought of something that, for some reason, was really important to know right then.
“Did you get along with your father-in-law?”
Would you get along with my father? I have a feeling you would.
He nodded. “Her father was in the army before he made his millions. He liked me the minute I decided to enlist in order to support my new family. Once I got out, he helped me get my business—by paying for it. He’s one of the best men I know. We still go for a beer once or twice a week if we can manage it.”
I was surprised by that answer. I honestly would’ve thought that a father would’ve sided with his daughter.
“Did your father-in-law get back at you by taking your business back?” I wondered.
Coke shook his head. “No. He really hates his wife, Amadea, and Beatrice. He thinks they’re stuck-up shits and doesn’t really want anything to do with them. Unfortunately for him, he made his millions after he and Amadea were married, so he knew that he wouldn’t be able to walk away from the marriage unscathed. Since he doesn’t want to give her half of everything he owned, he stays with her, but he makes it more than clear that he wants nothing to do with either one of them. Apparently, I was what made it tolerable to be around his daughter.”
Hearing that he liked his father-in-law made me happy. It also gave me hope that maybe he’d get along with my father…hopefully.
Coke grunted as he opened his door and got out.
I pushed my door open and would’ve stepped out, but a puddle the size of an area rug stopped my descent.
I turned around and closed the door, crawling over the center console to his side—only to be met by the same damn puddle.
He started to laugh, then turned and gave me his back. “Hop on.”
I looked down to see his dirty work boots about four inches deep in the puddle, then surveyed the way that the puddle spread out even farther than it did on my side, making it impossible to get down without soaking my feet.
Which was why I did what any normal woman would do. I climbed on his back and held on.
The ride only took a few seconds, but it was enough to change my world.
After I was safely ensconced on his back, he put two large hands on the backs of my thighs and backed up enough to be able to shut the door. Once it was closed, he walked until we were standing in front of the entrance, and then he slowly let me slide down his body.
I found during my slow descent, that his booty was really, really firm.
And he had a big one.
Not a fat one, mind you—but a big one. One that actually had some meat to it—literally.
I wondered idly, as my feet found traction, whether he did a
shit ton of squats to get an ass like that—or if it just came naturally to him.
Regardless, it was impressive either way.
“Do you come here a lot?” I questioned, trying to hide my appreciation of his ass.
“A lot,” he admitted. “Since my girl went to college in January, I’ve been on my own. I have no reason to cook for just one, so I eat out a lot. And since there’s not much to choose from in this town, I eat here and at the gas station quite a bit.”
That…sucked.
“You don’t know how to cook for one?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I mean, I have frozen food and shit.” He opened the door for me, and I slipped between the small gap between his body and the door. My ass brushed something hard, and I tried really hard not to think too closely about what it was that I touched.
“You can cook one chicken breast. You can cook one steak. You can cook one box of macaroni.” I paused. “It’s not that hard.”
He shrugged. “Maybe I just don’t want to cook.”
I made a mental note that next time I cooked, to do it for two. That way, he’d be able to eat it that night, or he could save it for the next day. That way, he didn’t have to eat out so much.
Eating out, while good tasting, wasn’t good for you.
I’d found that out the hard way when my diet had caused me to have attacks that felt like my heart was exploding—which I later learned was due to gallstones in my gallbladder.
Although okay now that I’d had it removed, I was super careful about how I ate. Meaning, I didn’t go out to eat all that often, and when I did, I chose things that were low on grease.
Now, my healthy eating flew out the freakin’ window when it was that time of the month. For a solid week, I ate like complete and utter shit, and there was nothing I could do about it.
That week, I was lucky if I could keep the weight gain under five pounds.
Luckily, the next three weeks I chose to eat clean and somewhat healthy.
This week wasn’t one of the weeks I ate well. In fact, I had a feeling that shark week was right around the corner, because I’d been god awful the last day and a half.
“What are you ordering?” he asked as we made our way up to the window.
I studied the menu. “I haven’t tried The Dude yet.”
He grunted. “Doesn’t look terrible. But I’m going for the buffalo burger.”
I ordered, followed by Coke, and then tried to pull a wad of dollar bills out of my pocket.
The moment he saw the green, he stilled my hand. “I’ll get it.”
“I’ll…”
“I’ll get it,” he repeated.
And I had a feeling that he expected his word to be law.
I’d give him this lunch, but then I’d make him dinner as a thank you.
Satisfied with my decision to feed him later tonight, I took the cup the girl behind the counter offered me, then walked to the fountain drinks.
After staring at the offerings for a solid thirty seconds, and feeling Coke come up behind me, I decided to have a Suicide.
Taking a little bit of Big Red, a smidge of Sprite, quite a bit of Dr. Pepper, and another smidge of Coca-Cola, my glass was filled. And the man behind me was chuckling.
“I didn’t think people got Suicides anymore,” he admitted.
I grinned and watched him fill his cup with sweet tea.
“Sometimes, I can’t decide what I want, so I get a little bit of everything until I decide.” I took a drink of my concoction and then walked to the table in the corner of the room that afforded the most privacy.
There wasn’t much of it to be had in this tiny little taco shop, but I had a feeling that it wouldn’t matter.
Especially when Coke pulled out the chair with my back to the room, urging me to sit.
I rolled my eyes at the man move, and took my seat, watching with barely concealed glee as he took the corner seat—which allotted less room—just so his back could be against the wall and he could see exactly who was coming in or leaving.
“So…” He leveled me with a look before taking a long, slow drink of his tea.
My eyes studied his throat as he took his drink, watching the muscles and his Adam’s apple bob with the movement.
“…chickens?”
I blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”
He grinned. “Have you ever had chickens?”
I shook my head and took a sip of my own drink, deciding that maybe next time I’d go with Coca-Cola instead. “No,” I admitted. “I’ve always wanted them. Well, me and my mom have, but my dad said no. So, we’ve always admired them from afar. But now that I’m in the country with some acreage, my dad can’t tell me no.”
He snorted. “Do you have a chicken coop for them already?”
I shook my head. “No. I have a horse trough thingy that Janie snagged for me from somewhere, and a few heat lamps. I still need to go get the feed, watering thingy, and the thing that holds the food.”
His lips twitched. “What would you have done if you’d gotten the chicks today?”
“I forgot,” I admitted. “I started working with a new company a week or so ago, and I completely forgot that I’d ordered them. I guess it’s a good thing that they were eggs.”
Kind of.
“Do you have any idea what kind of coop you want?”
I shook my head. Seemed like I’d been doing that a lot since he’d started this line of questioning.
“I guess once you know how many hatch then you’ll be able to get a better idea of how big the coop needs to be.” He paused. “You do realize that chickens are a lot of work, right?”
I shrugged. “They can’t be that hard.”
He grunted. “Trust me…they’re more trouble than they’re worth sometimes.”
“You’ve had chickens before?” I questioned.
He nodded. “Yep. They were our main source of meals when we were younger. We raised meat birds and egg layers. When the egg layers stopped producing, they became dinner.”
I must’ve made a face because he laughed. “The chickens weren’t friends. They were our only source of food. Trust me, I know more about them than I’d ever wanted to know.”
I didn’t know what to say to that.
He sounded like whatever he was currently thinking—which was obviously about his past—was just a little bit too painful to go into detail about.
“Do you think this tractor store we’re going to has a chicken coop as well?” I pursed my lips. “I was going to order one off of Amazon, though. Do you think that’s better?”
He shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t do much on Amazon to tell you whether it is or not. But I do know that Tractor Supply has them, as well as a few other feed stores in town. But, you can just as easily make your own.”
I could? I highly doubted it.
“Yeah…I don’t think so.” I laughed. “I’m good on the computer, I can draw exceptionally well, but I can’t build stuff. I’m going to have to call my dad as it is to have him come put the coop together since I’m sure that it doesn’t come already assembled. Trust me when I say, he’s not going to be happy with me.”
He chuckled. “Us dads love our kids. I’m sure he’ll be happy to do just about anything for you.”
Chapter 7
I don’t make milkshakes because I don’t want anybody in my goddamn yard.
-Text from Coke to Cora
Coke
It was the smile on her face that clearly revealed how much her father meant to her that made me miss my own girl.
My own girl that hadn’t called me in well over a week now.
Making a mental note to call her the moment I got home, I pulled down a side road that would lead us to the nearest gas station.
“Need fuel, and then we’ll head to the feed store,” I explained as I pulled up to the pump.
When I got out, she stopped me. “Aren’t you going to shut the truck
off?”
I shook my head. “I’m pumping diesel. It’s not combustible and volatile like gasoline is,” I explained. “But, anyway, I think that’s just a myth that it’ll blow up. Plausible, yes. But not really all that possible.”
Her lips twitched.
“Well, then.” She grinned and reached for the door handle of her door. “I guess I’ll just take your word for it. Do you want a candy bar?”
I shook my head. “No, thank you.”
She rolled her eyes and got out, heading inside while I filled up.
I watched her walk away and narrowed my eyes when I saw some man standing off to the side, smoking his cigarette as he pumped gas.
Now that motherfucker was dumb. Before I could walk over there and explain how much of an imbecile he was, he hung the gas nozzle up and twisted the knob of the gas tank, with the fuckin’ hand that had the goddamn lit cigarette.
My heart was racing as I backed away from the gas pump, sensing my impending doom.
But nothing happened.
Thank God.
When he had the cap in place, he got into the car and flicked the butt of the cigarette on the ground.
Once he pulled out of the parking lot, I walked over to the stall where his car had just been occupying and stepped onto the still lit cigarette butt with the toe of my work boots.
Once it was out as much as it could be, I walked back over to my truck just in time for the nozzle to click, signaling its fullness.
Hanging the nozzle back up, I reached into the cab of my truck and got a squirt of hand sanitizer before slamming the door closed and heading inside.
Once inside, I scanned the store for the wayward woman, finding her in the back of the store near the soft drink cases.
A man was talking to her, leaning way too close for both her comfort and mine.
She kept backing away, and each time she put distance between her and the man, he’d close it once again, taking more space than she’d managed to put between them.
I arrived at her side and gave the man a hard look that clearly communicated that he needed to back the fuck up—which he did. Immediately.
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