Bent Out of Shape by Bebe Balocca Read Free Book Online Page A

chef. The two men couldn’t have looked more different—Ian, with his delicate, aristocratic features, and Morgan, who looked fresh from a brawl in the alley—but they’d clearly shared a bond.
    Carmen’s reaction had surprised everyone, including herself. She had laughed.
    Ian and Morgan had exchanged confused looks. Carmen had stood up and had tossed her napkin down onto the table.
    “I should have seen it coming,” she’d managed to force out between loud guffaws. “You’re just a little too pretty, Ian, and a little too fashionable for a straight dude. The funny thing is that I thought you were going to propose tonight.” Tears of laughter had squeezed out from Carmen’s eyes and she’d gripped her shaking sides. An embarrassed hush had fallen over the restaurant. “I’m going to leave you the cheque though, or maybe you can ask your boyfriend to take care of it.” Carmen had collected her purse and jacket. “You boys have fun with whatever you do next, okay?”
    Carmen had walked past a couple of stunned tables before wheeling back around to Ian. “Give me three days in our house,” she’d announced, “to clear out my stuff. Don’t come home at all, and don’t call me. I don’t want to see or hear from you ever again. I want the house sold immediately and I want half of the profits sent to me through my parents. You’ve got their phone number, right? From those Christmases we spent with them?” Carmen, seething, had swept her gaze around the packed restaurant. Expensively dressed people had filled each table, and every single shocked eye had been on her. The cruel hilarity of the situation had overwhelmed her. “I’m grateful, Ian”—she’d laughed bitterly—“because I see now that I don’t belong with you, and I don’t belong among these people, and I don’t belong in this city.” Carmen had marched to the front door with her head held high, had walked out, and had never looked back.
    She was snapped out of her reverie by a soft, insistent nudge. Gretel, determined to get at a cricket between Carmen’s feet, had wedged her chunky black bulk between her ankles. Carmen tossed the last of her grain to the chickens and replaced the cup in the feed barrel. She eased down into her padded swing and stared into the Prescott woods.
    In the five years she’d lived there, Carmen had only made a few short forays into the woods. Somehow, she felt out of place there, even intimidated. She’d attributed it to the fact that she was, in fact, trespassing, and decided to listen to her instincts. Those woods were better left alone. Besides, there was plenty of nature to explore in and around Charade, and plenty of wildlife, both human and animal. Gretel, appetite satisfied at last, clucked and looked up at her with curious black eyes.
    She lifted the chunky black chicken to her lap and stroked her glossy feathers. The June morning was already balmy, and soon temperatures would climb into the mid-eighties. The shadowy woods would be dark and cool, though…
    Carmen shook her head and gently placed Gretel on the ground. Those woods were off-limits, both because they belonged to Calvin Prescott and because of the creepy vibe they gave her.
    She picked up her basket and entered the chicken coop to collect the eggs. Oddly, the chickens had had another light day of laying. Normally, the girls would give her at least four or five eggs every day, and frequently more. Often, Gretel was good for two or three all by herself. The last week or so, however, Carmen had only found two eggs in the coop every morning. She checked the latch on the coop’s door. It was secure and hadn’t been gnawed by an animal. Besides, if animals had been getting into the coop, they’d have bothered the birds. And Dax, of course, wouldn’t tolerate anyone messing with his chickens. She looked back at the little flock. They all looked robust and relaxed as they explored the fenced backyard. She scanned the edge of the woods for