Mister Naughty (Smalltown Secrets #6) - Cat Johnson Page 0,2

chickens.

Or rather chicken, singular, since the rest were outside scratching in the dirt and grass. Only one remained in the coop, diligently concentrating on her egg-laying duty inside the nesting box.

I leaned my back against the wall, bent one knee and planted a boot on the bale of straw where I sat.

Propping the iPad on my thigh, I scrolled idly through the Mudville community bulletin board.

I was surrounded by blissful silence except for the soft coos of the hen. In heaven . . . until I stumbled upon one post that ruined that peace.

Bronxboy: I swapped out the bulb that came with the heat lamp for my chicken coop for an LED. Chickens are happy and I get to save on electric costs. Win-win.

I couldn’t frown hard enough at what I’d just read. I generally tried to not comment on the forum but when I saw something this ridiculous, I had to intervene.

Shaking my head, I started poking out a two-fingered reply.

Anonymous: Bronx Boy, you do realize that unlike the bulb the heat lamp came with when you purchased it, an LED bulb won’t provide any warmth at all for your chicken coop, right? If you just want light to extend the laying season then fine, use an LED, but if you’re thinking you can keep your coop warm this winter with an LED, your IQ equals that of your chickens.

I stared at my comment and then thought better of that last part about his IQ. My main goal was to save the poor chickens that had the misfortune of belonging to this idiot from a dangerously cold winter. Not to insult him.

Deleting the last half of that sentence, I replaced it with you’re wrong and posted my comment.

Satisfied I’d done my civic duty, I scrolled on.

One post caught my eye. It was obviously from a fellow supporter of the Mudville High School Football team, the Hogs. As an alumnus and past member of the team myself, I had to read it.

GoHogs!: So I told my girlfriend I was going to the hunting cabin with the guys for the weekend of the big squirrel hunt and she said fine. But now she’s acting all ticked off. Chicks. Am I right?

I actually laughed out loud at this guy’s ignorance. He must be young, judging by how little he knew about women.

Shaking my head, I let out a sigh and hit the screen to comment.

Anonymous: Dude! Never believe a woman when she says everything is fine. It’s a trick. She expects you to know something is wrong even if she pretends it isn’t. Then when you don’t figure it out, because we’re not flipping mind readers, she gets extra ticked off. You hear that word fine again, go on high alert. Assume she means the opposite and then kiss her ass if you ever want to get laid again.

I reread my reply before posting, checking for errant auto-corrects and spelling and grammar.

That’s what dating a professional author will do to a guy. I loved Harper but damned if her correcting my grammar isn’t the quickest boner killer ever.

It happened only once and I never let it happen again. Now I was so careful about choosing my words you’d think I was a damn college professor rather than a farmer.

Finding nothing obviously wrong—at least to me, though Harper might have other opinions—I posted my comment.

I was about to keep scrolling to see what other idiocy I could find—and correct—when I heard the crunch of boots outside.

Shit. I looked around for somewhere to hide the iPad. There weren’t a whole lot of choices inside the chicken coop. I could slide it behind the bale, but with my luck, whoever was coming could be here to grab some straw. Then I’d be exposed.

My gaze landed on the nesting box, and the salt and pepper colored Brahma sitting inside.

“Sorry, girl.” With that apology, I shoved the iPad under her and the straw she nestled in and spun to face the door just in time to see my brother Cashel walk in.

“Here you are. I’ve been looking everywhere. What in blazes are you doing in the chicken coop?”

“Just checking for eggs,” I lied.

The truth was, our coop was nicer than some people’s houses. Bright and airy because of all the windows. High enough that even at six feet tall I could stand up inside.

And during the day when the chickens were all out grazing, it was the perfect place for me to hide from my brothers and