Page 137 of Neighbors With Benefits

“Who?” I demanded. “If you don’t tell me right now I’m calling the police.”

Footsteps drew closer. I pulled out my phone, holding it like a weapon. Against Voldemort, I felt like I had a chance to leap over the couch and escape. But against two people…

55

Jazz

The person who walked into the living room wasn’t a man, I saw with a small sense of relief. It was Ms. Dermatt, the snoop everyone called Karen. She was holding a saucer and a cup.

“Sorry!” she said cheerfully. “Howard’s selection of tea is older than most of the residents of this neighborhood. But I made do with what I had.”

She set the saucer on the table next to me, then sat in one of the other chairs. “Howard, please sit down. It’s no wonder she’s afraid, with you standing there like you intend to stop her from leaving.”

He hesitated, then sat down next to her. “She called me Voldemort.”

Ms. Dermatt blinked. “Who is that?”

Voldemort—Howard?—glared at me. “A bad guy from a movie.”

Ms. Dermatt whipped her head toward me. “Why would you call him that?”

“I… I don’t do it,” I said defensively. “Other people do. This is the first time I’ve met Vol… err, Howard.”

She patted Howard on the leg. “I think you should apologize.”

The tables had turned so swiftly that I was almost dizzy again. I genuinely felt like the bad guy now!

“I’m sorry,” I said. “Howard, I’m truly sorry.”

He nodded once, but wouldn’t meet my gaze.

“Thank you,” Ms. Dermatt said. “How do you feel, dear?”

“Much better now,” I said, taking a sip of tea. “Thank you. I can’t believe I knocked myself out.”

“Howard couldn’t believe it either,” she muttered. “He called me all in a tizzy.”

“It was very nice of you to help me,” I told Howard. “But I really should be leaving, now.”

“We have something we wish to discuss with you.” Ms. Dermatt looked at Howard. “Did you tell her we want to discuss it with her?”

“I did,” Howard whined, “and she freaked out.”

“You probably didn’t ask nicely enough.”

“I only know one way to ask,” he grumbled.

“It’s not your fault, sweetie.” Ms. Dermatt took his hand and squeezed it.

“Sweetie?” I said dumbly.

Ms. Dermatt frowned. “Why do you sound surprised?”

“You and your boys next door aren’t the only ones in the neighborhood playinghide the pickle.”

“Howard! Language!”

“Sorry, Karen.”

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