Page 4 of Knotting With A Stranger

Only on days ending in Y. Do you often give murder advice to wrong numbers?

The interesting ones. Most people just say sorry, wrong number and disappear. You’re the first to confess to a crime.

Technical point… I was asking for help with disposal. The crime was already committed.

Ah, so you’re saying you need an accomplice?

Heat creeps into my cheeks. Am I really doing this? Flirting with a complete stranger about fictional murder?

Depends. Are you offering?

The three dots appear and disappear several times, making my heart race. Finally.

I might be. Though I should warn you, I have very specific standards for my criminal partnerships.

Oh? Do tell.

Well, first, they have to have a sense of humor about homicide. Check. Second, they need to be creative with disposal methods. Check. Third...

I wait, breath caught in my throat.

They have to be willing to share their baking disasters with complete strangers at ungodly hours.

My cheeks hurt from smiling.Check, check, and check. Though I should warn you, I have standards, too.

I’m all ears.

First, they have to appreciate the criminal potential of baked goods. Second, they need to name their sourdough starter something appropriately dramatic.

And third?

I bite my lip, typing before I can second-guess myself:Third... they have to keep me entertained while I try to save this wedding cake from itself.

Challenge accepted. Though, I have to ask… is this cake for an enemy? Because if so, you’re doing great.

I chuckle loudly, the sound echoing through the quiet kitchen. The morning light is growing stronger, the snow creating a cozy bubble around the bakery. And for the first time in longer than I can remember, something feels like it’s beginning.

I should probably actually try to fix this cake,I type reluctantly.

Probably. Though I have to say, this is the most fun I’ve had before dawn in a long time.

My heart does a little flip.Same. Though I’m still not convinced you’re not a serial killer.

Says the woman who texted a stranger about hiding a body.

Fair point. For all you know, I could be the serial killer.

A risk I’m willing to take. After all, you seem pretty busy with that cake. No time for murder on the side.

I glance at the clock and wince. He’s right, I really need to focus, but something makes me hesitate before putting the phone down.

I should go. Places to be, cakes to salvage.

The life of a baker-turned-criminal is never easy. Good luck with your victim.

I start to set the phone down, then quickly type one more message.

Thanks for being an unexpectedly fun accomplice.

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