CRACKED: An Anthology of Eggsellent Chicken Stories by J. Posthumus (read after txt) 📕

to shove it hard into the attacking chicken, knocking the bird back a solid foot.

Slamming the car door closed behind her, she leaned back into the driver’s seat. Then she pushed her hair back from her face, blew out a breath, and reached into the passenger seat for her phone, dropping her clipboard onto the passenger-side floorboard on the way.

“Child Protective Services,” a familiar female voice answered.

“Hey, Carrie. Is Davis still around?” Tori’s boss often left early, but he’d been complaining about paperwork, so maybe he would still be there.

“Sure. I’ll transfer you.”

“Hey, Tori,” Davis Lansing answered a few seconds later. “How did the inspection go?”

She inhaled, preparing for his ire. “I didn’t even make it up to the house. They had an attack chicken in the yard.”

Davis paused for so long that Tori almost asked if he was still there. “An attack… chicken?” Laughter underscored his voice.

“Yes.” Tori scowled, reaching down to rub her ankle, then glanced at her hand. “Damned thing made me bleed.” She glanced up at the porch, where the chicken now stood triumphantly, still staring in her direction.

“I see.”

When Davis didn’t fill in the silence with anything else, Tori said, “If anyone was home—or willing to answer the door, anyway—I think the noise would have brought them out.”

Silence.

“So I’m going to come back out first thing Monday morning if that’s okay with you.”

Davis’s sigh echoed in Tori’s ear. “Yeah, I guess so. It is late. But make sure they’re top of the list Monday.”

“I’ll come by the office and do the paperwork for a failed visit,” she offered.

“Nah. Don’t worry about it until next week. Go home and tend to your… chicken wounds.” His voice sounded a little strangled, as if he were trying not to laugh.

“Thanks,” she said acerbically. “I will.”

As she started the car and pulled out of the driveway, the chicken strutted down the porch steps and made its way to the edge of the property, watching her the whole time.

Tori heaved a sigh of equal parts relief and irritation. Then she headed home for a hot bath and some Band-Aids for her ankle.

Worst. Friday. Ever.

Chapter 2 Niall

Lifting the recliner out of the moving van, Niall Fillan glanced around.

Nobody nearby. Excellent.

At least he wouldn’t have to pretend to struggle with its weight in case any humans saw him.

That was the last thing his alpha had said to him as they finished loading up the truck. “Don’t get caught doing anything that will give you away. There aren’t many shifters at all in that county. Not even a coyote shifter pack. Much less any other wolves.”

Except the rogue wolf I’m supposed to track.

Niall set the recliner next to the leather sofa he’d hauled in earlier. Then he moved to the open door and leaned against the frame as he stared out at the field directly across from his new apartment. Only a couple hours’ drive southwest of Dallas, and no shifters? Seemed like the land would be perfect for long pack runs—still some trees, but lots of open acres, too.

And cows. So many cows.

His mouth watered a little at the thought and he clamped down on his inner wolf, focusing on keeping his human self in control. After all, those cows belonged to someone. They weren’t like the cattle on the packlands north of Dallas, born and bred to feed a bunch of hungry werewolves.

No. These cows were someone’s livelihood.

Guess I’ll have to stick to buying steak at the grocery store. Not as much fun as letting his inner wolf out to hunt—but definitely necessary in this case.

He pushed off the doorframe to get back to work, just as a small gray car pulled up in the spot next to the van.

Crap. He’d have to limit how many boxes he stacked up for the next trip into the apartment. Not that he had that much left to unload. With a sigh, he climbed into the back and picked up just two boxes. A human could carry that much, right?

As he stepped down to the sidewalk, he caught a glimpse of a woman getting out of the car.

Automatically, he took mental note of what he could see. Wavy red hair, business casual clothes, the pale skin of her hand as she pushed her hair behind her ear. A slight limp. The sorts of things any pack enforcer would take note of in a strange environment.

Then she turned to face him, flashing a slightly rueful smile. His breath froze in his chest.

She’s amazing.

He pushed the thought away, even as his mental list continued, albeit in a less perfunctory mode. Creamy skin. Lush figure. Perfect green eyes. Dazzling smile.

Mine, his inner wolf growled.

Shut up, he told himself.

“Hello.” She glanced up at him from beneath her lashes as she passed him, and he fought back an urge to reach out and touch her cheek.

“Hi,” he managed to say, his voice coming out sounding a little too rushed as he forced himself to start breathing again.

What the hell is wrong with me?

“Moving in?” she asked.

“Yeah. I just got to town a couple of hours ago.” Say something interesting, dumbass! But Niall’s mind went blank.

“Well, welcome to the exciting metropolis of Walton Springs.” She grinned as she unlocked the door next to his.

You’re about to lose her. Say something else.

The thought sent him into action. Dropping his boxes with a thump just inside his door, he held out a hand. “I’m Niall Fillon. Nice to meet you.”

She paused but took his hand after a second. “Tori Lansing.”

Her words were lost in the rush of electricity he felt when she touched him, a zinging flash that went from his fingers and straight down to his stomach, then lower.

Not now, he admonished himself. His wolf whined.

He inhaled, and her scent washed over him. She smelled like vanilla ice cream, all soft and sugary.

She smells like home.

Mine, his wolf proclaimed again.

And suddenly, he knew exactly what was happening. This woman wasn’t just his new neighbor.

She was