“Hi, Dag. This is Ros. You were at my place earlier today, the one with the endangered bird on the deck.”
“Yeah, Ros. Everything okay? Teagan make it up there?”
“Yes, he did. And this is awkward, but you do know him, right? And he’s who he says he is?”
Some men got pissy when they were asked to vouch for each other, but Dag answered at once.
“Yup, Teagan Howell. Big guy, blond hair, good jaw, got a scar on his hand that looks a little like a chicken. If you want to make sure he’s who he says he is, ask to see his ID. He won’t be mad. Can’t be too careful these days.”
She hadn’t really thought the man being attacked on the deck was some kind of inefficient home invader, but it never hurt to check.
“Oh. Okay, that’s good. I mean, better safe than sorry.”
She still didn’t hang up, and after a moment, Dag coughed politely.
“How’re the birds?”
“Oh, it turns out there’s more of them. Teagan’s calling around to see who has more traps.”
“For real? Aw hell, I’d come out, but I can’t. Tell him Ard Farron’s up here for that conference. Ard’ll help. Are you two all right in the meantime?”
“I think so. We’re going out for pot roast in a second.”
“Yeah? That’ll be at Louise’s. Good pot roast. Good apple pie too, though you’ll want to give the coleslaw a miss. It’s just chopped lettuce and mayo. But you probably didn’t call me to talk about pot roast, did you?”
She laughed haplessly. Good with baby opossums, good with nervous single women, apparently.
“No. But... I don’t know what I’m doing. One minute, it’s murderbirds, next the most good-looking guy I’ve ever met is taking me to dinner.”
“That’s life,” said Dag philosophically. “But a word of advice?”
“Yes. Please.”
“Teagan Howell’s a good guy, one of the best I’ve known, but don’t take my word for it. Trust your gut. Think about what your gut wants.”
Her mind flashed to all sorts of lurid images that she was not discussing with Dag Willet.
“My advice is to listen close to what you want, and then to take it. Teagan won’t let you get hurt, and he won’t let you hurt him, either. Life’s too short not to do what you want.”
“You’re probably right. Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it. If you’ve got more questions, I’ll be getting up every two hours all night anyway.”
“Wait, why –?”
“Someone dropped off a box of out-of-season kittens. Gotta go feed ‘em again, actually. Good luck.”
As she ended the call, Ros couldn’t help a wry grin. And she thought she had problems. Getting up every two hours to feed kittens sounded way worse than getting dinner with a good-looking guy who looked at her like Teagan did.
She went through her meager luggage, wishing she had more choices available. She had packed for relaxing in the woods and swimming in the lake, not going out on dates, but it could have been worse. It wasn’t like she'd only brought old cut-offs and tattered tank tops, anyway.
She did the best she could with what she had, and she was rewarded by Teagan stopping short at the front door with a slow and fascinated blink.
“Well, you look good enough to eat,” he said, and it was so clearly said without his thinking about it that Ros grinned.
“Yeah? Well, this is the best I’ve got, so I’m glad it’s a win.”
“Much better than this, and you could knock me over with a feather,” Teagan rumbled. “And here’s me in jeans and a flannel.”