Page 27 of Hot Tea & Bird Calls (Kissing At Work #2)

A n hour before the hammock reading date, Skye just finished sprinkling feed into Phish and Swindle’s tank when she received a text message from Celene. Her smile at the thought of Celene not being able to wait fell when she read it.

What kind of bird is this? It hit our gable window and it’s been sitting on the deck for three minutes.

Attached was an image of a small bird with a pointy beak and white speckles along its black wings, feathers fluffed in its state. The species’ characteristic red plumage on the head was absent, so?—

Omg

That’s a female Downy Woodpecker.

Second nature, she’d begun stuffing necessities into her messenger bag. The image looked like it’d been taken from inside the summer house, since she must’ve landed in front of the clear sliding doors. Poor little thing. What if she had fledglings somewhere, hungry and defenseless?

Celene – 10:34 am

Her eyes are open. That’s good, right?

Skye – 10:34 am

Yeah. Is she blinking?

Celene – 10:36 am

Yes, and moving her head.

Skye – 10:37am

Those are good signs. Be there in a few.

Skye hurried through the kitchen as she texted, rinsing a cup. To Luce at her standard placement at the dining table, she called out, “Heading to Celene’s. A bird flew into her window.”

Prevention-oriented, Luce pointed a metal nipper to indicate a nearby drawer. “Grab some of those window decals so this doesn’t happen again.”

“Smart. Thanks.”

“Mmph.” She laughed lightly over a large square project, meant for Skye to hear. “You’ve mixed yourself up with a city girl. She’s lucky to have us around.”

Skye was too focused to reply; regardless, her lips ticked into a short simper. She zipped a handful of different decals into her bag, hugged Luce farewell, and jetted out the door.

By her fifteenth glance at her watch in about eight minutes, Celene could finally stop pacing. Skye biked into her driveway like a silver chariot. Anything to save this woodpecker.

Celene unbolted the mostly unused wooden front door and breathed relief, since Skye had already marched that direction, poised to ring the video doorbell. “Ugh, I can’t believe?—”

Skye silenced her with a hug. One much tighter, more certain than anything steeped in shyness yesterday. “Hey, you okay?”

“Um, yes. Of course.” Celene searched the room, suddenly off-balance. “Does Beaker look like she’s going to die?”

“Beaker?”

She ushered Skye through the front room by her shoulders. No more of those deep eyes and earnest emotions and honey smell. “It’s rude to call her ‘the bird’ the whole time.”

After laying her shoes against the wall, Skye got on her hands and knees to view Beaker through the glass door. Celene tensed, certain that proximity would give an already shaken bird a heart attack.

To her astonishment, Beaker stayed put, tilting her head sideways, similarly to Skye, and stared.

Not in a petrified way, as one would guess.

It seemed like they’d met before, like they’d run across each other in the forest. With a soft smile, Skye chirped out squeaky toy sounds. Beaker inched forward.

What the hell?

Careful not to disturb their inter-species vibe, Celene pulled a dining room chair to watch. She filmed them with her phone, sure Nadine would find it unbelievable without evidence.

Skye detected the recording, as anyone who hung around Larkin would. Except she didn’t look pissed or violated. She only smiled and waved, and god, Celene’s hands jittered. Stopping the video, Celene asked, “What am I witnessing? Why is she enamored by you?”

Celene had no leg to stand on; she’d been enamored, too.

“How do I explain it?” Hair curly today, Skye stretched a few strands in thought. “I spend a lot of time outdoors. I was destined to pick up a bunch of bird calls.”

“Okay, but...” Her hands hadn’t steadied yet. She’d recorded such a pure, unfettered moment. What did that softness from her mean? Skye was so soft . “She’s not afraid of you.”

“Critters sort of like me,” Skye replied with a laugh.

Skye pointed to a matching chair, and Celene grabbed it for her.

They situated themselves next to the sliding doors, encouraged by Beaker peeking around herself with more awareness.

Skye crossed mostly bare legs in high-waisted shorts, and Celene let her eyes linger as Skye zoned out.

Celene knew she’d be back and present soon.

“June and I weren’t close friends in middle school, believe it or not.

We didn’t get close until god, freshman year.

” Skye laughed quietly, crossing her ankles.

“She’d take us to the zoo to see what would follow me.

The thing is, I don’t charm animals. Or have full-fledged conversations with them.

June called me Eliza Thornberry anyway.”

Celene grinned at Beaker, nodding. She’d never been a big television watcher, but she’d seen episodes of that animated show about the girl who could talk to animals. “When did you and June date?”

“When I returned to Yielding after college. I worked under Luce for a few years, until I started a career in New York, then Philly. June and I broke up amicably, about six weeks before I left. She stayed here.”

Celene tried not to sound too interested. “And you broke up because?”

“June’s a great partner. She did nothing wrong, just...I couldn’t desire her as more than a friend, no matter how much we had in common.” Skye balled her fists within the ends of her sleeves. Noticing herself doing it, she released them.

“Why do you—” Unable to resist, Celene pinched the end of Skye’s pullover, lifting a brow. “The long sleeves. Is it a terribly private reason?”

Skye’s laughter came abruptly, splendidly in the streams of sun.

“It’s not. Luce’s shop is normally on the chilly side.

I touch a lot of materials and solvents, so it’s also semi-protective.

” She rotated a hand in a hypnotic pattern.

“It’s habitual, like a security blanket.

But the most important reason—” Sighing, she nodded at Beaker, smile contagiously serene.

“While I’m out in the woods, I’ll get the occasional curious visitor—a butterfly, a dragonfly, a small bird—and it’s better for both of us with that layer of separation. ”

Celene was fake-dating a Disney Princess. “I’m speechless.”

“Don’t be,” Skye told her, folding the sleeves over her fingers again. “Animals are generally calm around me. Something about me gives off unthreatening energy. I’m not a predator to them.”

She allowed herself to smile at that, finding Skye already watching her. “You’re peaceful. I feel it, too. Does that make me an animal?”

“We’re all animals, at the end of the day.”

Drifting her feet across the carpet, Celene acknowledged the color wasn’t that horrible after all. Now that she’d deep-cleaned it several times, its cushioning appealed to her. Aesthetics weren’t everything.

But they were important, since she couldn’t look away from Skye.

Yesterday changed everything. This community, with its waving passersby and obsession with maintaining nice front yards, affected Celene in ways unforeseen. She found herself revealing, “Larkin had a crush on you.”

Beaker hopped once, then twice, and they paused. Skye imitated a clap, conscious not to scare her. “Hm. I’d gotten that impression. I thought it was because she worships my parents.”

“She mentioned being too young.”

“That, too. She has a great heart, but a partner engrossed in social media and always being on-camera doesn’t do it for me.”

The following question couldn’t be avoided. Celene knew her smirk would hold Skye’s attention. It always did. “Is she your type?”

Skye rolled her eyes. The prettiest, most benign display of eyerolling. “Based on how many of my ex-girlfriends carry themselves, yes, I guess.”

Celene knew the implications there. She couldn’t even smile at Beaker grooming her feathers, out of her daze.

“Types are weird. You follow those instincts because of your natural attraction. And when the relationship doesn’t work, you wonder if your type is for you.

Take my ex, Quinn, for example.” Memories swept in.

Many sad, some not so much. “I thought we’d been well-matched, but at my sister’s wedding, Quinn attended with her girlfriend, and it’s like she came alive.

I couldn’t reconcile the difference. Don’t get me wrong—her girlfriend’s beautiful, but she’s so damn chatty and nerdy and unlike me, and they looked right together. I’d never seen Quinn laugh so much.”

“I looked up Quinn. Sorry.” Skye’s full lips warped into a clumsy smile. “Have you adjusted your type since her?”

“Not at all. I’m in a prison of my own creation,” Celene stated, her laugh humorless. “That’s why I’m attracted to you. You’re introspective, a natural listener.” Needing the moment to lighten, she tossed in, “She’s taller than you, though.”

It caught Skye off-course, hence her snort. “Well, I have no control over my height, so...”

“I love your height.” She knew her heavy stares got to Skye and attempted to hold back, but how could she?

“I’ve never been taller than anyone I’ve dated.

Quinn often wore heels, so I’d wear higher heels to split the difference.

And while height gaps work for most people, I tire of looking up so often.

” Celene held Skye’s gaze. God, what they would be doing if they were actual girlfriends in a house with all these bedrooms and furniture and rugs and counter space.

Enunciation crisp, she said, “I’d been missing out.

It’s nice to have someone in a tight little package. ”

Skye blinked, but that expressed more than enough.

Seconds later, Beaker flapped her wings and tore off into the summer sky.

“This house must be public enemy #1 to the avian community,” Skye muttered, balancing on a steel freestanding ladder.