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I paused, listened. It definitely sounded like a chicken.

I searched for the source. It took a few tries, but I finally found a small chicken stuck in the brush, shaking and scared.

“Hey there, little lady,” I said in a calm, gentle voice. “What are you doing? Are you lost?”

She had to be. The closest properties were miles away, and we didn’t keep live chickens here. She didn’t belong to anyone as far as I could tell.

I watched her for a few minutes. She seemed injured. She made a few clucking sounds, and when I crept closer, she fluttered her wings but didn’t take flight.

I sighed. “Rescuing a chicken was not what I had in mind today.”The chicken seemed to cluck pitifully in response.“But I can’t just leave you here.”

I removed my shirt and slowly inched closer to her.

“Come on. I’m going to wrap this around you and get you to safety.” I did just that, cradling her against my chest in my shirt. She seemed to settle a little, and then I headed back to my room, garnering more than a few curious looks from my staff.

Once I’d returned to my room, I called down to the front desk and asked to be connected with our vet concierge.The vet concierge, like our pillow menu, had been another great idea from Jasper. He was always so attuned to the finer details of the guest experience.

He’d pitched the idea as something to cater to our guests who wanted to travel with their pets. I was all for it. Pets were family, and they should be treated as such.

The vet assured me that she’d come check on the chicken as soon as possible. Until then, she told me the chicken would be okay hanging out in the bathroom until she could get a crate sent up. And she suggested that I get her some scraps from the kitchen.

After I ended the call, I smoothed my hand over the chicken’s head, determined to make sure she was okay. She purred, the sound full of contentedness. For now, I’d done everything I could, so I set her on the floor in a nest of towels and hopped in the shower. She stayed in her makeshift nest, and I was glad she was already more relaxed than when I’d found her.

I was toweling off when there was a knock at the door. I went to answer it, confident it was room service.

“That’ll be breakfast,” I said to the chicken, trying to reassure her.

Room service might have a universal key, but it wouldn’t work on my door. Whenever I stayed anywhere, I rekeyed the system to ensure I was the only one who could get in or out of my room. It was a security precaution, but also, my brother Jasper had an annoying habit of turning up uninvited.

I checked the peephole, rolling my eyes when I saw Jasper standing in the hallway with the room service cart. I debated not answering, but then my stomach growled. Might as well get this over with. I sighed and opened the door, stepping aside for him to roll the cart inside.

“This is new,” I said in a wry tone.

“Nothing I haven’t done before.” He removed the domed lid with a flourish.

When we were younger, my grandparents had made us work nearly every job at the hotel. From room service to housekeeping, we’d been expected to understand and appreciate everything that went into running a luxury hotel brand. There were definitely some jobs I was glad never to have to do again. Like customer service. I shuddered.

Jasper excelled at guest interaction, but I ran from it. I much preferred jobs that were repetitive and physically demanding—I was great at housekeeping or assisting the vast team of gardeners. I’d also enjoyed my time in the kitchens; it was a fast-paced environment with minimal conversation. The focus was on speed and efficiency while striving for excellence.

I assessed the tray, frowning at all the food. “I didn’t order all this.”

“I did.” He took a bite of my toast.Bastard.“And Sloan and Jackson are planning to join us.”

I grunted.Great.

He opened another lid. “What the hell is this?”

“I’ll take that,” I said, scooping up the plate and carrying it back to my bathroom. He followed me, gawking as I placed the kitchen scraps on the floor near the chicken.

“Why do you have a chicken in your bathroom? Never mind.” He waved a hand through the air. “I don’t know why I asked. I’m just grateful it’s not another rat.”

“Hey.” I scowled at him. “Rats are highly intelligent.”

“You’ve been trying to tell me that since I was five, and I’m still not buying it.”

When we were kids, I’d always rescued animals and nursed them back to health. I’d gotten to keep some, but it had been difficult with how often we moved around with my grandparents. And the fact that most of our luxury hotel guests wouldn’t take kindly to discovering a pet rat.

I shrugged. “I guess I’m still hoping that, one day, you’ll see the light.”