The Casanova (The Miles High Club #3)(76)

“There’s no food to cook.”

“Shit.”

He grabs my hand and pulls me out of bed. “Come on, we’ll go get something.”

“Okay.” I go to the bathroom and come out to find that he has gone downstairs. I throw on his button-up shirt and make my way down.

“What is that?” I hear him mutter as he opens the curtains in the living room.

I can hear a strange sound, like hail hitting a window or something.

I frown as I try to focus. “What’s that noise?”

He looks around. “I don’t know.”

We walk through the house, opening the curtains as we go from room to room. “Is something in the walls?”

His eyes widen in horror. “Like what?”

“I don’t know, rats?”

“What?” he barks. “Surely fucking not.”

As we walk toward the back of the house it gets louder and louder.

Elliot’s holding his hands out as if pre-empting an attack of some sort and I smile as we get closer to a huge curtain, which must be covering a sliding door.

“What the hell is out there?” he whispers, wide-eyed.

“I don’t know.”

He peers through the crack in the curtain and then stands up as if disgusted.

“What is it?”

“Ducks.”

“Huh?”

He flicks open the curtain and I see a group of ducks all pecking at the glass like maniacs. They appear frantic and are jumping over each other to get to us.

“What are they doing?” I frown.

Elliot opens the door in a rush. “Fuck off, ducks,” he snaps.

They jump over his feet and run inside.

“What the hell?” he cries.

They run through the house with their wings up in the air, squawking loudly.

“What are you doing?” Elliot screams.

I burst out laughing.

“Get out of my house!” he yells as they all jump up at him. “What the fuck are they doing?”

They are so loud and making such a commotion.

It’s him they want, they’re all jumping up at him, and he storms outside and they all run after him. “Fuck off,” he cries as he tries to get away from them. “Call somebody.”

I tip my head back and laugh loud. “Who do I call?”

The sight of Elliot Miles running down the pathway with a bunch of ducks chasing him is simply too much and I nearly fall over as I laugh hard.

“This isn’t fucking funny, Kathryn,” he yells, and he kicks out to try and move them and they squawk louder. “Fuck off, ducks!”





Chapter 17


“Hello Brianna,” Elliot barks as he paces back and forth. “We have a problem.”

I listen as I sit on a stool at the kitchen countertop.

“Ducks. That’s what.” He listens. “Well, they attacked me.” He listens for a moment. “Feral ducks.”

My face breaks into a broad smile. After fifteen minutes of running around like a maniac, Elliot closed the doors and the ducks have retreated back to their lake.

Elliot frowns as he listens. “No. What clause, I never agreed to any such clause.” His horrified eyes meet mine.

“What?” I mouth.

He shakes his head. “Well . . . I don’t want them.”

He listens again.

“Since when would the sale of a house have animals in the contract? That’s preposterous.” He walks to the window and peers out over the field. “A goat?” he snaps. His eyes meet mine and I bite my bottom lip to stop myself from smiling. “A fucking what?” he explodes. “A pony and a pig? No way. Not on your life. Come and take them away. Right. Now.”

He shakes his head in disgust.

“Who the hell do I sell them to?” he fires back. “This isn’t Jack and the Beanstalk, Brianna, you don’t go to fucking market to sell a pig.”

I burst out laughing, Elliot glares at me, and I slap my hand over my mouth.

“What do you mean?” He paces again, looks out the window and down at the paddock, then his eyes meet mine. “Well . . . you better find out.” He listens intently. “Fine.” He hangs up.

“What happened?” I ask.

“Apparently the woman who I bought the house off was eighty-eight and has a menagerie of animals. It was a condition of sale that the new purchaser keeps them on because she’s gone to a retirement community.”

My eyes widen. “Oh.”

“She’s finding out what I can do with them.”

My face falls. “Why?”

“I don’t want farm animals, Kathryn, I’m not Old McFucking Donald.”

“It’s a settling-in period, they’ll calm down.”

“Absolutely not.”

I walk to the back door and look out over the paddocks. The ducks are pecking away at the ground next to the lake. “They’re probably just hungry.”

“For human blood?” He grabs his keys. “I’m telling you now, it won’t be mine. We need to go and find breakfast before I faint.” He takes my hand in his. “Let’s go.”

Two hours later we pull up outside the front of my house. “Thanks.” I smile.