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"I grew up in the country, but my mom always collected the eggs. I was, um, afraid of chickens."
"Hmm." I scratch my chin as I study her. "Afraid of llamas and chickens. We'll need to desensitize you."
Rebecca slumps her shoulders. "Can we do that later? I'm starving."
"Aye, later." I pat her erse. "And I was joking about me eating a dozen eggs. There's plenty for both of us."
"Oh, good." She puckers her lips and glances toward the windows. "Do you have any other animals out there?"
"Just Odin and the chickens."
"So, no geese."
Cannae help laughing. "Geese? No, lass. Dinnae like to eat goose eggs."
"Whew. That's a relief." She makes a sheepish face. "I'm afraid of geese. One bit me in the ass when I was five years old."
I set the egg carton down and grasp her hands. "Dinnae fash. I vow to protect you from rampaging geese."
"Ha-ha." She grabs ingredients from the refrigerator, then we both begin working on our breakfast. But she pauses briefly to gaze up at me through her lashes. "Is there anything you're afraid of?"
"Everyone is afraid of something."
"I meant animals or insects. Stuff like that."
"Oh, I see. No, I'm not afraid of wee beasties or any other sort of creatures."
She raises her brows. "Wee beasties? Do I need to be looking out for tiny elfin geese?"
A chuckle spills out of me. "We do not have tiny animals in Scotland. 'Wee beasties' are insects."
"Well, that does make more sense. I hate bugs."
"Everyone does, except for the entomologists."
Making breakfast with Rebecca is more enjoyable than I expected. For me, cooking is a necessity rather than something fun to do. With her as my partner, though, creating a meal becomes a treat. I love making her laugh, and she makes me laugh too.
After enjoying our food at the kitchen table, I need to go out and take care of the chickens and Odin too. Surprisingly, Rebecca volunteers to go with me.
"Might as well start my desensitization," she announces. "Don't want to be a scaredy-cat forever."
"You are not a scaredy-cat. Only a brave woman would knee a traitor in the bollocks."
"I assume you're talking about the time I slammed my knee into Holden's private parts."
"Aye, that's what I meant."
We exit out the back door, heading for the chicken coop. Rebecca holds an empty egg carton that we will put more eggs in shortly. The rooster crows, almost as if he's welcoming Rebecca.
"Do you name your chickens too?" she asks. "Or are they all anonymous?"
"I've named them." As I kneel, the rooster approaches us. " This handsome fellow is Wallace."
"Why did you name him that?"
"Because of William Wallace, the great Scottish hero."
"Ohh, I get it." She folds her arms over her chest as she studies the rooster. "Is he going to be drawn and quartered like his namesake?"
