Page 67 of Dash of Bryce
Her jaw clenched. "It's not apizzabox. It's a cookie box."
I gave it a long, curious look. "That must be one big cookie."
"Oh, trust me," she gritted out. "It is."
"So, what are you doing with it?"
"It's the holidays," she said as if this explained everything.
It didn't."So?"
"So I'm delivering one to all of my clients."
I brightened. "So am I getting one?"
"No."
"Why not?"
She sighed. "Are we seriously not going to talk about what you're doing here?" She lowered her voice. "Just tell me. Does the tenant know that you're inside? You didn't break in, did you?"
Seriously?If I wanted to be rude, this was where I'd point out that technically, it was my own house, and thus the whole "breaking in" terminology was totally ridiculous. But I wastryingto be more polite, even to Myra who for some reason had decided that I didn't deserve a cookie.
It was inthisspirit that I said with a stiff smile, "For your information, I was invited."
She gave me a dubious look. "By who?"
Just then, I heard a familiar male voice say from somewhere in the living room. "Byme."
When I turned to look, Bryce was ambling toward us, wearing the same jeans and long-sleeve shirt that he'd been wearing earlier. Like me, his hair was damp, and he wore no shoes.
When I looked back to Myra, her eyes were wide, and her jaw was slack, like she'd just caught Santa getting naked with one of his reindeer.
Bryce joined me at the door. With an easy smile, he looked to Myra and asked, "So you deliver pizzas, too?"
"Oh, for God's sake," she said. "You know what? You two totally deserve each other." And with that, she practically shoved the pizza box into my hands and said, "Merry Flippin' Christmas."
As she stomped down the walkway, Bryce turned to me and asked, "What'd I say?"
As I closed the door, I told him, "It wasn't you. I'm pretty sure it was me." I smiled as I lifted the box higher. "But look. A cookie."
He frowned. "Really?"
My smile faded. "What, you don't like cookies?"
"I love cookies," he said. "I'm just wondering why she put it in a pizza box."
"I know, right?" I was smiling again. "That's whatIsaid."
Bryce glanced toward the front door. "So, where's the pizza?"
"Gotme," I said. "Maybe they're running late?"
The words had barely left my mouth when the doorbell rang again. I looked to Bryce and asked, "Doyouwant to get it this time?"
He chuckled. "What, and miss all the fun?"
"Whatfun?"
