Page 100 of Third Time Lucky

‘Uh— yeah. It is actually.’

‘So, the boyfriend bonfire worked,’ she says, seemingly pleased. ‘I suspected it would. I had some luck warding off some sponges in my younger years.’

‘Sponges?’

‘Cling-on men who don’t like to work, sweetheart. Lucy’s father, Paul, is the result of one.’

Poor Paul. Every day, this woman says something to make me wonder about her young life.

‘Did you ward Paul’s father off with fire, or is he somewhere in the wilderness beneath carefully selected endangered plants?’

‘The latter may have been easier in the long run,’ she chuckles. ‘But no, he’s alive and not-so-well – in a nursing home, to my knowledge, losing his mind.’ The smirk on her face says this is a detail she keeps up with happily and it reminds me of Lucy wishing Brandon the worst. Best speech ever.

Suddenly, the doorbell rings.

‘I’ll get it!’ Lucy calls from her room loudly.

I haven’t seen her yet, so I suspect she doesn’t know I’m here.

She races out of her room – barefoot (with neon pink toenails), wearing a simple pair of jeans and a cream-colored T-shirt with words and a logo I don’t quite catch as she buzzes by.

‘Youarehere!’ she says, pointing my way and then looking at the front door when the bell rings again, perplexed.

No way. Her excitement to get the door was for me to be standing on the other side? That is freaking adorable.

‘Answer it, dear,’ Mitzi says, waving her through the kitchen. ‘I wonder who it could be?’ she asks me once Lucy’s disappeared into the living room.

‘Haven’t got a clue,’ I lie.

There’s a slight chatter between Lucy and a male voice at the front door. Once it shuts, my heart starts to speed. I see the flowers before I see her face.

‘Someone sent flowers!’

‘Oh!’ Mitzi coos. ‘Aren’t those beautiful?’

‘I’m glad you think so,’ Lucy says, ‘because one of them is for you.’ She hands her the smaller bouquet of yellow roses, which reminded me of Mitzi for some reason.

Her gaze shoots my way as an approving smile grows.

‘How thoughtful,’ she says.

‘So gorgeous,’ Lucy says, setting hers on the counter with a box wrapped in black and white paper and topped with a frilly bow that matches her neon nail polish. I didn’t even request that, so well done, Flower Boy. ‘I wonder who could’ve sent them?’ she asks, pulling the card from the center of the bouquet, her accusing gaze on me.

I shrug like I don’t know.

She pulls the small rectangular card from the envelope, turns it over, and inspects the back. Her whole body drops as her brows furrow.

‘You didn’t sign it,’ she says, certain these are from me.

‘What’s yours say, Mitzi?’ I ask, casually.

Mitzi looks all around. ‘No card.’

‘Ooh, maybe you’ve both got secret admirers.’

A heavy sigh leaves Lucy’s lips. ‘These really aren’t from you?’

Disappointment doesn’t usually turn me on, but right this second, I’m overheating.

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