Page 7 of The Solstice Additions (A Laurel Holidays Summer Romance)

Chapter Six

K enan looked more than befuddled as we stood on the back porch with a slimline, ultra-powerful mini flashlight as the stars winked down on us from above.

He held the light under his chin like we were two lads out in the dark back yard reading ghost stories instead of two dedicated goose owners about to do goose owner stuff.

“Okay, so explain this to me again,” he said and shone the light in my face. I held out my hand for the light. With a sigh, he handed it over. “I’m a little hazy on the actual procedure and why I’m even required.”

I glanced skyward. We’d been over this daily.

He was just stalling. “So, it’s been two weeks since Wilma started incubating her eggs.

” I looked his way. The flashlight pointed at the ground with just enough light to see his worried but oh-so-pretty face.

His hair was down, his guard up. “What we’re going to do is examine the eggs to see if there are goslings inside them.

This is called candling the eggs for viability.

If the eggs are good, we put them back under her.

If they’re bad, we dispose of them. If some are good and some bad, we take the bad ones away so that they don’t accidentally get broken in the nest. Rotten eggs are rancid. ”

“I was sure you were going to say they were fowl.”

I shot him a flat look that made him titter.

“Sorry. It had to be said. I get why this is done, and it makes perfect sense.” I nodded.

Of course it did. Would I do anything that didn’t make sense when it came to my geese?

Nope. I swatted a mosquito sucking on the back of my neck.

Damn things. “What confuses me is why there is a we in this whole outing.”

I rubbed at the bite on the nape of my neck. “You’re part of the family.”

“Aw, that is so sweet.” He pecked me on the cheek. “They hate me, though.”

I waved that off as I stepped down into the dewy grass. “They hate everyone right now. Wilkes refuses to come here until fall. I almost had to get a post office box, but he finally gave in and is leaving my mail at the alehouse until further notice.”

“Personally, I think he’s being a bit over the top.

Yes, Fred did charge the gate, and yes, he did stick his head through the picket fence slats, and yes, he did manage to get a hold of Wilkes’s little scanner thingy hip holster, and yes…

” He paused. “No, okay, Wilkes is totally justified in his decision.”

I padded over the lawn, flashlight on the grass lighting the way, nodding along. “Yeah, he was. I get it, but in all honesty, they’re just protecting their space and that nest. Geese get such bad raps for doing what every other animal does, and that’s protect their young and their territories.”

“We need to get you a T-shirt that says ASK ME ABOUT GEESE on the front.”

That made me chuckle. “Yeah, I guess I get a little defensive about it. And sure, wild and to a lesser extent, domestic geese can be quite hostile at times, but they’re just staunchly protecting their life mates and kids.

Yeah, it hurts to get bit and whacked by a wing on a thirty-pound bird, but if people would just learn to respect them, especially during breeding season and when there are goslings, there would be far fewer incidents.

It’s kind of like how dummies walk up to bison in state parks and then get tossed around like a hacky sack by an affronted buffalo. Give the animals their space.”

“Yeah, dumb bison picture snappers!” He hooted then broke into light giggles.

“Well, people are dumb.”

He rubbed my back as we neared the coop. “Now, this is not going to be easy, but we do have the advantage of it being dark. What I’m going to do is open the coop, grab Fred, and hand him to you to hold.”

A long silence fell next to me. I glanced over at my man. His face was slack. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, it’s okay. There’s a nice trick to handling them.”

“He hates me.”

“No, he doesn’t. He’s just worried you are going to hurt Wilma.

So, what will happen is this. After I open the coop, I’ll grab Fred and hand him to you.

Make sure to keep his wings tucked into his side with one arm and have a firm but gentle grip on his neck just under the head to keep his pinching part in control.

You tuck him into your body to pin the one wing, and presto. Goose wrangled.”

“You’re mad.” I couldn’t help but snort at him. “No, honestly, you are insane. That goose will eat me like an apéritif, then spit out my bones.”

Now that made me laugh out loud. A barred owl called out in the far distance.

“My love, they are not carnivorous. He will not eat your flesh or your bones. Just hold him like I showed you, and all will be good. I’m doing the dangerous part.

I’m wiggling close to Wilma, reaching under her, removing the eggs, candling them while trying not to be wing-whacked, and then placing the good ones back under her.

” He seemed less than convinced. “We can switch if you’d rather deal with an irate goose mom? ”

“Nope. Nope. Nope. Just hand me the damn gander. I must really love you a lot to do this.”

I leaned over to kiss his tense lips. “I know you do. And I love you for helping with the kids. You ready? This is going to be fast. The quicker we do this, then resettle them, the less stress it will be on the birds.”

“What about the stress on the human goose handler helper?”

“I’ll relieve your stress when we’re done.”

“Will you rub liniment into the bruise on my nose when Fred pinches it?”

“I’ll rub whatever you want rubbed, sugar plum.”

He blew out a breath, threw his hair back from his face, and squared his shoulders. “Okay, I’m ready. It’s only a bird, right?”

“Exactly. Just a bird.” With that, I set the flashlight on the grass, unlocked the door, and slowly opened the coop.

Four beady goose eyes glared at me in the dark.

Fred, as I knew he would, charged at the intruder.

I acted with speed and a well-practiced hand and got him up and into my arms, his wings tucked down, and then stood to pass him off to Kenan.

Wilma was honking madly, as was Fred, but she was tight on the nest. “Here you go. He’s not really heavy, he’s just fluffy. ”

“Cool. Right, cool, okay.” He took the goose with soft hands, doing as I had said, and in a second, he had the bird gently restrained. “He’s stronger than a bird should be.”

“You’re doing great. I love you.” I kneeled down, the hay crunching under my knee, and snaked a hand out.

The first pinch arrived with speed, catching the sleeve of the flannel shirt I’d pulled on just for this reason.

“It’s okay, darling. Just going to check to see if you have any babies.

Settle down. Ouch. Okay, that one hurt a little.

” I felt around under her toasty, warm breast. My fingers found an egg.

I removed it carefully, sat back on my heels, and shone the flashlight up into the egg, large end up.

This one had a network of blood vessels started as well as a small dark form moving about inside the egg.

“We have a wee wittle goose,” I said and placed the egg aside in the hay to gather another.

“Yay. Fred is giving me death glares,” Kenan whispered while Wilma gave me another pinch. “Can you candle faster?”

“He’s just plotting his revenge,” I teased as the welt on my forearm began to burn.

The sleeve would take most of the punishment, so that was something.

I candled all six eggs with speed, grimacing slightly at the burn of a good bite as I took egg number six out from under my goose.

She’d gotten the back of my hand on that one.

I could have worn gloves, but I was leery of possibly losing my grip and dropping an egg.

“Okay, mama, I’m giving them all back. Stop hissing.

There you go.” I carefully placed them in front of her, and she did the rest, using her bill to roll her kids back under her toasty, warm bosom.

“Such a good mother. I’m all done bothering you now.

Tomorrow, Kenan will bring you and your husband a dish of old tomatoes from the pub. ”

“Excuse me, Kenan will do what now?”

I rose and slipped my arm around my gander. Fred was highly disgruntled as I gave him a soft toss back into the coop and closed the door in his face.

“There, all done, and with great results. All six are fertile!” I beamed while brushing the hay and chaff from my knees. “Just two more weeks and we should have babies. What’s wrong? Did he get you?”

Kenan sighed, then turned to show me his back. “I think he shit down the back of my pants.”

I shined the light on the wet green poop stain on his shirt. Yep, it had for sure gone into the back of his jeans.

“Damn, that was rude of him. Why don’t we go inside, hit the shower, and I’ll wash all the goose poo from your sweet ass?”

“The things we do for love.” He sighed. I thought of patting his butt, but it was kind of wet with goose poo, so I kissed him on the neck instead, right under his ear, and then I took him inside to wash his backside thoroughly.

He enjoyed the slip and slide of my tender ministrations.

He was squeaky clean—and well sated from a robust fuck using our fave silicone lube that had a place of honor beside the shampoo and soap on the shower rack—from top to bottom.

Nothing said love quite like washing waterfowl poo from the pert ass of your man before fucking said pert ass. Romance, thy name is Brann.