Chance of Rain by Amber Lin Read Free Book Online

the squeak hadn’t come from her. Soft, high-pitched sounds emanated from a large cardboard box under his arm. “What have you got there?”
    “Ducklings. Although they look more like small bundles of feathers and shit.” A sheepish look crossed his face. “Sorry about the language. They were under my porch. The parents saw me and split. I didn’t know where else to bring them.”
    “You did the right thing,” she assured him. “Here, let me see them.”
    He glanced down, hesitated, then nodded toward the diner. “Maybe we should take these inside before I open it up. They can’t fly yet, but they can hop like a motherfu—they hop a lot.”
    “We can take them to my apartment. That’s where I was going. There’s a woman outside town who will take them in, but they can spend the night at my place.” She waved him to follow her up the stairs. The box was a nice distraction from the fact that she hadn’t straightened up in anticipation of guests. She shut the door behind them.
    “Wow,” he said. “It looks different.”
    “You’ve never been here.”
    “Different from how I thought it would look. When you lived here before.”
    She cocked her head at the mocha-colored couch and scraped wood coffee table. She had repainted the walls a pale cream, with a copper faux finish accent wall at the far end. There was minimal clutter, always a welcome relief from the business of the diner. Although she maintained the diner with strict adherence to her Gram’s vision, she had allowed herself to change the upstairs apartment to suit her.
    “Is it a bad thing?” she asked, more to herself. She had always wondered and felt a little guilty.
    “It’s a good thing,” he said. “It looks great. In fact, now I feel bad about bringing these little guys up here. It’s crazy how much of a mess they make.”
    He sounded so much like an aggrieved parent that she had to hide her smile. “Come into the kitchen.”
    They opened the lids to reveal two fluffy yellow ducklings sitting in a bowl. The bowl was empty, but the towel underneath it was drenched with water and, yes, shit.
    “My goodness,” she reprimanded, then set about drying them. They peeped their indignation when Sawyer held them while she cleaned out the box. She pulled out a Tupperware box of biscuits from the fridge, softened one with water and set it down for them alongside an upturned lid of water.
    She washed her hands, blowing tendrils of limp hair from her face. She was a mess, but she felt exhilarated and generally pleased to have tended to two small animals, and to have been trusted by Sawyer to do so. When she looked up, she found him munching on a biscuit from the counter.
    He froze. “Sorry,” he said, his mouth full.
    Reluctant amusement tugged at her lips. “Hungry, are you?”
    He swallowed. “These are really good.”
    “Sit down at the table, and I’ll fix you a proper meal.”
    She didn’t have to ask him twice. Since she hadn’t eaten either, she prepared two plates and popped them in the microwave. He dug into the steaming plate of chicken as soon as it was served.
    Natalie munched on a piece of broccoli, watching him, wondering at the warmth inside her. Partly it was sexual—he was hot even while scarfing down leftovers—but it was more than that. She always felt some satisfaction to think of nourishing people with the food she served. Their company was an added bonus. With Sawyer those feelings ran deeper—cut a little too close, actually. Briefly she wondered if she should guard herself against him, protect herself, but she remembered Barry’s advice. Sawyer didn’t look like a man struggling to adjust. In fact, settled in at her kitchen table, he looked right at home.
    “You’re always welcome at the diner.”
    His answer was delayed by a drink of water. “I don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.”
    “The idea that you eat food?”
    He slanted her a dire look that did nothing to dampen her spirits, just her