Page 4 of The Perfect Snipe

Peace and quiet.

The familiar scent of Nora's lavender air freshener fills my nostrils as I sink into the cushions. My eyes drift closed and my body finally starts to relax, the tension of the day seeping out of my muscles.

Until my damn phone goes off.

Mierda.

The shrill ringtone cuts through the silence like a knife. I consider ignoring it for a moment, but years of ingrained politeness—and the possibility it might be school-related—win out.

I glance at the screen, then click to answer. “Hola, Abuela.”

“Are you still staying at Nora’s? Nieta, go get a hotel room.” My grandmother's voice, warm and familiar, fills my ear.

“Seriously? This is why you called me?”

“Catharina, Wyatt just moved in. The lovebirds need some space, not a third wheel. What if Nora wants to jump that handsome boy as soon as he walks in the door? She can’t. You know why? Because you’re right there on the couch.”

Oh, my ever loving God. Leave it to my grandmother to worry about everyone’s sex life but her own.

“And if you stayed at a hotel you can take Jake with you a night or two to give Nora some alone time with that future husband of hers.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to ward off the headache building. “Abuela, are you focusing on Nora’s sex life because of your recent STD? Has that put a damper on your escapades?”

“Catharina! Do we need to have a conversation about your love life? Because we can do that. I even asked Wyatt last weekend if any of his teammates might be interested in you. Told him to talk you up.”

“You did what!” My voice rises an octave, and I bolt upright on the couch.

“Mi nieta, you aren’t getting any younger.”

I take a deep breath, trying to calm the frustration stemming from her blurting out my private business to Wyatt. “Abuela, stop worrying about me. I’m fine. Really, I am.”

And I am. I don’t feel like I’m missing anything being single. I go on dates. Sometimes I even go on multiple dates with the same guys. I don’t have any bad relationship wounds that prevent me from finding a serious relationship.

I just haven’t found anyone who really holds my interest. And, to be fair, sometimes I simply don’t fit what they are looking for either. Too loud, too opinionated, too... me.

The thought sends a familiar pang through my chest, echoes of childhood rejections and judgments.

I close my eyes, phone to my ear, pushing away the unwelcome memories. “Are we still on for dinner Sunday?”

My grandmother chuckles, the sound warm and comforting. “Of course. You know how I look forward to dinner and murder TV with you. Gotta keep up on all the new ways we need to cover our tracks in case we need to hide a body.”

A grin spreads across my face. This is why I love my grandmother. She gets me in a way my parents never did. Where they were passive and insecure, afraid to make waves, my grandmother, on the other hand, is a force of nature.

We also need to be prepared in case that rat bastard Michael ever comes around Nora and Jake again. Wyatt would probably do the killing, but my grandmother and I have been watching these Netflix shows like they are a religion. So, the three of us could easily make someone disappear.

“I’ll see you Sunday. Te amo.” My grandmother disconnects the phone, and I let out a deep breath.

Finally.

Peace and—

The roar of Wyatt’s truck engine drifts into the room, and I groan. While I can’t think of a better person for Nora, the man never stops talking. A chatterbox. And that’s saying something coming from me.

The truck door slams and my nap time is officially over. But then another door closes. Must be one of his teammates.

“Hey, Cat,” Wyatt says as he strolls in, his voice booming in the quiet house.

“How was practice?”

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