Page 174 of Snap Shot

Bea wails as I stuff my feet into sneakers. “There's not an Uber available for the next forty-five minutes. Likely because everyone in the office was tripping balls and took them all.Shit! I'm gonna get fired!”

“You're not gonna get fired! I won't let them. But, Landon, you sweet angel, hockey bro of a man.”

I snort. She called me a hockey bro.

“Listen to me. Listen to me carefully. I'm already feeling strange, and if I wait forty-five minutes, I might wander off before the car gets here and end up taking a swim in the river.” Indi audibly facepalms, then whines out a groan. “Can you…can you pick me up?”

Without looking, I snatch a set of keys off the rack, leaving the rest clanging on their hooks. “Of course. On my way. Does Bea need a ride, too?”

“No, she's going home on herbicycle! Bicycle! I want to ride my bicycle! I want to ride my biiiike!” Indi falsettos Freddie Mercury, then cuts herself off with a grumble. “The little druglord didn't eat any of her own marijuana goodies.”

“Okay, good. That's good. Have her stay until I get there.”

Driving the Porsche wasn't part of the plan. Actually, nothing about any of this was part of any sort of plan.Thank God, they've cleaned the roads from this morning's snow. The tires squeal and shriek through every turn on the slick roads.

I call Bea to let her know I'm at the curb. She and Indi trot out in pea coats and scarves, arms hooked, avoiding the dark patches of ice. Indi's work bag's strap crosses her chest, bouncing at her hip with each step. She’s in better shape than I expected. She's got balance. She's got grace. Indi straightens as they draw near.

“She's all yours.” Bea nudges her closer and pats me on the shoulder. “Good luck.”

Indi's head lolls to her friend, eyes glazing over. “You're a beautiful, magnificent lamb.”

“Yes, I know. You're lucky to have me. Thanks for coming. Text me when she's safe at home.” Bea waves us off as she walks to the bike rack.

Indi drops her raised hands into fists at her hips, glaring at me. “And what” —she points a rigid, gloved finger to the white car behind me— “is that supposed to be?”

I shake my head, swallowing a laugh. “It's our ride. Let's go.”

“No.Way. There'snoway you'll fit in there.” Her head sways, then halts. “And don't say ‘that's what she said.’”

Don't say it. Don't say it. Don't say it.

The goofiest grin splits my face. “That's what she said.”

In a huge, melodramatic wave of her arm, she smacks the side of her head with a palm, knocking her center of gravity off-kilter.

I catch her, pulling her upright against me until the shell of her ear brushes my mouth. “And if you're talking about something else, Indi.” My breath freezes in the air. “I promise you, I'll fit.”

“Okay, Mr. Smartypants.” She pushes off me and wobbles to the passenger side. “Take me home.”

I salute her, then open the door before she can, sliding the bag from her shoulder before buckling her in. “Good?”

She blinks three times and gives me a dopey smile.

“I can't tell if that's a yes or a no.”

“I spelled it out with my eyes. Y-E-S.”

Oh, boy.

“Thank you,” she says meekly once we pull away from the curb. Removing a glove, she threads her fingers through mine and rests the joined hands on her thigh. I internally swoon, color rushing up my neck and face. Indi belts out an operatic note in place of what I think is meant to be a sigh.

Her eyes follow the trail of passing light outside. “Whee! Look at all the colors. So pretty!”

I hold back a smile.

“Beep!Beep!” She presses her finger into the glass. “I can almost taste them.” Indi smacks her lips.

It's so wrong, but my shoulders shake with laughter. “You're hilarious. I love you.” My breath immediately hitches.

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