“I can drive it back to y’all’s place,” I reassure them. “Go home and get into bed. We’ve got this.”
“Will you text me if you find the wayward bird?” she asks, tucking herself into Brody’s side. “I want to know.”
“I swear I will,” I promise. “Now go relax.”
Still slightly white-faced, she nods, and Brody guides her off toward wherever it is his car is.
Instantly, I reach out and smack Drake’s arm. “Why’d you tell him, huh?”
“Whoa, crazy.” He grabs my hands and pulls me toward him. “I didn’t tell him a thing. I was on my way over here because someone said that they’d seen a parrot flying in the park. I bumped into him, and he said he’d help me look to get in Nonna’s good books. Just so happens that Bek threw up when we showed up.”
“Of course, she did. Damn it. Okay, what did you find out about the parrot?”
“Not a lot,” my husband admits. “I know he’s been spotted here, but that’s it.”
“We saw him,” I say, moving away from Bek’s vomit bush. “He darted past us, and we chased him, but he’s gone. I don’t know where the hell we’re supposed to go from here, and I’m starting to feel light-headed.”
Drake pauses. “In other words, you’ve exhausted your internal sugar reserve, and I need to go and buy you a cupcake.”
I grin. “Yes.”
“You do realize that as long as we’re running around getting you cupcakes, we won’t find Gio?”
“Do you actually think we’re going to find him? He’ll probably return home soon enough. Don’t they do that?”
“I think that’s dogs,” he says slowly. “Then again, I’m not sure I’ve ever heard of a parrot running away from home.”
“That’s because he was stolen,” I remind him wryly. “There’s a bird thief on the loose.”
“Honestly, if he’d been stolen, all we’d have to do is sit at home and wait for the thief to return him.” He pauses, lacing his fingers through mine. “I wouldn’t even arrest them for it.”
“You’d have to arrest them for bringing him back,” I mutter. “So…where did we stand on the cupcake?”
Four
“It’s been an hour and a half,” I say, stopping in the middle of the street. “Are we seriously supposed to keep looking for Gio? The twins will be awake and—”
“I already texted your mom.” Drake shoots me a glance.
“You did? When?”
“When you were frosting-deep in your cupcake. I knew they’d wake up soon, and as great as Nonna is, your mom will stop another Italian lesson from happening.”
“I would pay to stop that happening.” I sigh and looked around. “Seriously. Why are we doing this? We need to just go home and tell her that we couldn’t find him. I have so much stuff to do for the twins’ party, never mind the fact there’s an actual stack of paperwork in my office I need to handle.”
“And breathe.” Drake chuckles, resting his hands on my upper arms. “Fifteen more minutes, and if we don’t see him, that’s exactly what we’ll do, okay? Maybe we can print flyers and pin them up around town just in case he’s flown in somewhere and gotten stuck.”
I groan, but I don’t have a choice. I know I need to do this for a little longer, if only because Nonna can’t complain if we’ve put in two solid hours of searching.
But. Ugh. I’m getting tired, my feet hurt, and I really do have a ton of stuff to do. Motherhood and owning a business aren’t conductive to leading a parrot hunt.
Drake grabs my wrist. “Don’t move.”
“Why? Did I step in dog shit?” I glance down at my feet.
“No. Gio. He’s over there.”
I jerk my head up and look in the direction he’s pointing. Holy shit, he’s right. Gio is sitting on a little round table outside the café like he owns it.
“Oh my God,” I whisper. “How do we get him?”
Drake opens his mouth and stills. “Shit. We didn’t think this through, did we?”
I shake my head. “But, he’s right there. How do we get him back to Nonna?”
“Chase him?”
“And let him fly off? It’s not like we can put a leash on him.”
“Yeah, well, if we ever get the little fucker home, I’m going to make Nonna chain him to the damn cage,” Drake mutters. “Hold on. Let me call your mom.”
I sigh and lean against the wall while he takes a few steps away to call her. This is turning into the nightmare I knew it would be. Seriously—how do you catch a parrot? I’m not a birdkeeper. I have no idea what I’m doing.
“Well, that didn’t help at all,” Drake says, coming back. He grimaces at his phone. “She thinks we need to try to corner him and catch him.”
“Oh, gee. We never thought of that.” I slap my hand against my leg.
He snorts.
“This whole thing is so fucking stupid. It’s not like he’s going to fly to my finger and stay there.”
“I don’t know, Noelle. He does have that weird crush on you.”
I glare at Drake. “Yes, but I deliberately shot him with a water gun last summer and now he doesn’t like me quite as much.”
Drake sighs. “I forgot about that. All right, what do we do? Maybe he’ll come to me?”
“God, it’s like herding cats,” I whine.
“Except the cats have wings and swear in pirate.”
“This couldn’t get any worse.”
“I’m going to try to get him. He likes me. I feed him.” He shrugs and checks the road is clear before crossing it.
I take it back. I can already see this getting worse.
I cover my mouth with my hand and watch my husband approach Gio. His steps are slow and calculated, and he hunches over as he gets close to the table.
Gio turns his head and, with a squawk of, “Fuck no!” flaps his wings and flies off.
I move my hand up to cover my eyes and groan. Great. More running.
Drake is already chasing after him as I check the road. It’s clear, so I cross it and run after him.
I swear. I’m going to have an entire pizza to myself tonight after all this running. And a bottle of wine. Drake can wake up in the middle of the night for the babies as punishment for roping me into this.
Within minutes, I’m wheezing, and I have the worst damn pain in my side. I am going to kill my husband and force my grandmother to cook for me every day for the next month.
Not to mention that I’m not designed to chase a parrot. I’m not a parrot. I don’t have wings. I can’t fly. This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done, and I’ve done a lot of stupid things.
“Ohhhh,” I moan, catching up with Drake. I grab his arm and lean into him, trying my best to catch my breath. I’m dying. I know it. I’m so dying. “Where did he go?”
“Over there.” Drake points to a new store.
A pet store.
“Holly Woods has a pet store? Since when?”
He shrugs. “Not sure. Mom would probably know. But Gio flew over there and around the back.”
I frown. “Why would he go there?”
“There’s food there? I don’t know, babe. But we have to go in and see what’s going on.”
“He’s probably there for the food,” I mutter, crossing the street once more. “How many trays of lasagna do you think I can get away with asking Nonna to make us?”
“At least one a week for the next year.” Drake pushes open the door to the pet store. A tiny bell above our heads jingles, and we step into what is, quite literally, an animal wonderland.
Birds, hamsters, rabbits—you name it, and it’s here. A massive caged area stands in the middle of the room, sectioned into four. Three hold rabbits and the fourth a slew of guinea pigs. Fish tanks line the wall to the left of us, filled with a whole selection of different kinds of fish.
Note to self: bring Antonio here.
“Can I help you?” A man with a deep Southern drawl appears from behind a high shelving unit.
“I sure hope so,” Drake replies, holding out his hand. “Detective Drake Nash with the Holly Woods PD. This is my wife, Noelle. She owns Bond P.I.”
The man shakes both our hands. “Calvin Royce. What can I do for you, Detective?”
“Please, call me Drake. I’m not here officially.” He smiles. “You wouldn’t happen to have seen a green parrot, would you?”
“Well, sure. Got two of ‘em in the back.” Calvin stuffs his hands in his pockets.