Page 58

I ate way too much at Seaton Bakery, but the best part? Cohen never shamed me for how much I sampled. Never suggested I opt for a water or black coffee instead of the mocha I ordered. Dax would have done all of those things and then suggested a walk after.
Cohen? He led me to his car and started driving. His hands stayed on the wheel, and I couldn’t help but take him in while his eyes were focused on the road. The ridges of his nose made me think it had been broken, and after hearing how he’d grown up, I couldn’t help but wonder how he’d gotten it.
My eyes traveled from his face to his hands to the speedometer. His car was so fancy that it felt like riding in a cloud despite going eighty miles an hour. I checked. He only drove five miles over the speed limit at any given time. I liked it—like a small form of rebellion but also a sense of safety.
But what surprised and delighted me more was our final destination. He stopped in the parking lot of a new rainforest aviary outside of LA.
My mouth fell open as I looked from him to the sign. “I didn’t even know this was open yet!”
“It isn’t.” He parked and pulled the keys.
“But how?” I asked, following him out of the car.
His grin was tantalizing. “I know a guy who likes to stay a little late at my bar sometimes.”
I shook my head at him in awe, then went back to staring at the building. All of the cranes and cones and big chain link fences were gone, but the parking lot was still nearly empty. I’d been waiting to attend the opening all summer and fall. They hadn’t announced a date yet, but it was set to launch sometime in December.
“I take it you’re excited?” he asked, smiling.
“You have no idea. You know I’m a Friend of the Aviary? I donate a hundred dollars every year on Ralphie’s birthday.”
His smile didn’t look as horrified as I might have guessed. Instead, it was encouraging.
“That’s awesome,” he said.
I nodded. “They spent a million dollars on the windows alone—special glass so the birds won’t ever try to fly into the windows from the inside or outside. There’s a special etching process that hides their reflection while still letting in plenty of light.”
Cohen pressed his lips together. “I’m assuming my friend won’t be of much use as a tour guide then.”
My cheeks warmed. “I’d love a tour.”
“Great.” He put his arm easily around my waist, and I tried not to act too excited about our contact. Something about the gesture was calming and thrilling at the same time. Eyeing me from the side, he said, “Go on. What else do you know?”
Grinning, I clapped my hands together. “Okay, did you know they built a fifteen-foot waterfall inside so the birds can perch and bathe?”
“Yeah?”
I nodded. “And they flew in plants from all over the world—they had to get special security clearance and the heads from both the Department of Agriculture and the Department of Homeland Security flew in to make sure everything was done safely.”
His eyes were alight with wonder, and—was I too bold to hope?—admiration. “How did you learn all this?”
“I subscribe to their newsletter... and I may or may not have set up a Google alert.”
He chuckled. “I like that about you—you don’t do anything halfway.”
I smiled at the compliment. “Why bother if you’re not going to give it your all, right?”
“Exactly.” The way he said the word made me think he was talking about more than just aviary research. But I didn’t have time to think on it.
As we neared the front entrance, a guy in a tan suit stepped out and reached for Cohen’s hand. “How are you, friend?”
“Great,” Cohen said. “George, this is Birdie.”
“Our aviary enthusiast,” he said with the slightest Australian accent. “Are you in for a treat.”
“I can’t tell you how excited I am,” I said.
Cohen chuckled. “She basically recited the pamphlet to me on our way here. I told you she’s amazing.”