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out to be a rooster.”
    Aachoo . She wasn’t cut out to be a chicken.
    They left the building. Her rounded body bumped him again and again as they walked toward his Hummer. A brush to his thigh, his side, his arm. Feathers fluttered to the ground. Awareness of the woman crept beneath his skin. He’d never been attracted to a chicken before, that was for sure.
    He opened the passenger door and gave her a boost onto the seat. He pushed too hard. His hand on her bottom slipped between her thighs, and his fingers touched her inappropriately. She squirmed, thrust out a foot, and her spiky chicken toes kicked him in the balls.
    Damn. He jerked back, adjusted himself, while she righted herself, and then sat all stiff and facing forward. He closed her door, rounded the wide hood, and climbed in beside her. He pulled his seat belt across his chest and buckled up. He keyed the engine, shifted into reverse. They rode the short distance in silence.
    He circled the block, looking for a parking place. One opened behind her Dodge Dart. He pulled in, and she hopped out, without his assistance. She left a seatful of feathers. He passed her the torn rooster costume, then rolled his hip and removed his leather wallet from his back pocket. Sixty dollars should cover the replacement cost. “I want to pay—”
    She never let him finish. Shutting the door, she waved him off. “I got it covered. You went above and beyond. Nice cock-a-doodle-do.”
    His mind went to the cock side of doodle-do.
    He had a lot of crow left in him.
    He glanced at his Oakley 12 Gauge Chronograph. The watch had been a gift to himself when he’d signed with the Rogues. Inspired by the gauges in the cockpit of a fighter jet, it had more functions than he’d ever use. Or had ever figured out how to use, even with the instructional booklet.
    He worked his jaw. Time had gotten away from him. He’d lost ninety minutes of his day. His sex date with the pilot would be delayed. All because of a game show.
    He collected Alyn’s feathers from the floor and seat and tossed all but one in the glove compartment. The single feather went into his wallet. A reminder to avoid game shows. He’d have the vehicle washed and vacuumed when he reached Florida.
    He let his Hummer idle until Alyn safely reached her car. Traffic had picked up. A line stretched out the door of Jacy’s Java. Customers looking for their morning caffeine fix. People stared at her. A few pointed. One elderly man shook his head.
    She tucked herself into her car. Which was no easy feat. He waited for her to remove her chicken hood. She did not. He hoped she wouldn’t get a ticket for impaired vision.
    Smoke shot from her car muffler as she pulled from the curb. Then headed west. The Dart chugged like a tugboat. He noticed the bumper was rusted, a back taillight busted, and that the rear tires were bald. The vehicle had seen better days.
    Halo rapped his knuckles on the steering wheel. Feeling restless and unsettled. As if a part of his life had slipped away from him. Unfinished.
    Alyn had needed a boyfriend for an hour. He’d made her his fiancée. Their loss ended their relationship. Relationship? His wild side laughed at him. Called him crazy. Foolish. Sensitivity squeezed passed his laughter, nudging him to follow her. To be kind.
    Why should he go after her? He ran one hand down his face. Sorted out his thoughts. That’s when he realized he wanted to do something nice for her. He could turn their loss into a win with little effort. He could be a good guy when he tried. It would ease his conscience.
    There was something else, too, that drove him to shift gears and ease into traffic. To follow the lingering gray smoke of her car muffler. His male curiosity had yet to be satisfied.
    He hadn’t seen her without her chicken costume.
    She had seen him naked.

Three
    H alo followed Alyn for thirty minutes. He kept a discreet distance between the vehicles.