Page 42 of Margo and the Faux Good Luck Beau
“I’d never,” he says plainly.
My head drops into my hands as I officially meet the time limit of being able to hold my chin high. Ninety seconds.
Way to go Margo.
“I cannot believe I’m back in Cobbiton. But thank you for helping me out. Had you not, I’d probably be battling with an alley cat over an old fish bone for breakfast.”
He makes a snorting sound through his nose.
I take a bite of toast. “Wow. This honey butter is good.”
My shriveled heart and stomach return to the land of the living. Then I notice that Beau pours a little carton of white liquid into his coffee.
“I thought you drank it black—?” I cut myself off when I read the label. “Cereal milk?”
He grunts. I’ve quickly realized that Beau isn’t so much grumpy as he is quiet, contemplative. He only says things if he means them. No filler comments or unnecessary words. That might come off as grumpy, broody, or cold, but it’s a relief to know that he means what he says. I don’t have to read betweenthe lines or pick apart meanings like I ordinarily do with certain people in my life. Cough,Mom and Celeste, cough.
“You put cereal milk in your coffee?” I blink a few times, never having heard of this substance.
The label readsCereal Milk,a tasty take on the milk you love to slurp from the bottom of your cereal bowl.
“They also make cereal milk ice cream? Why did I not know about this? Why does it surprise me that you drink it?”
He shrugs and says, “Pierre introduced me to it. One day I ran out of regular milk for my coffee, figured I’d try a splash. It works.”
Pierre Arsenault is from Quebec and a defenseman on the Knights. Maybe it’s a French Canadian thing.
“What else don’t I know about you?” I lean an elbow on the bistro table and rest my chin in my hand.
“Plenty.”
“Any secrets I should be aware of?”
He snaps off a piece of bacon. “I decline to answer.”
I narrow my eyes, accepting the challenge. “You sleep in socks.”
“I don’t think that qualifies as a secret.”
“So you do sleep in socks.” Not a big fan of that activity. I set down my fork, Not sure why, but it seems weird for a guy.
“I do not, but that’s not a big dramatic secret to keep.”
“Fair point. Okay, um, you reply to cell phone messages and go on social media while using the bathroom.”
“Everyone does that.”
“You admit it?” I wrinkle my nose even though I’m guilty.
He shakes his head slowly. “I try not to use my phone, as you’re probably aware, and don’t have those kinds of accounts.”
Never mind a dropped call, his distance was like dropping out of my life. This was the third thing on my list of bad things happening in threes, and here we are. “Oh, right. Hmm.You’re surprisingly mysterious. There’s something about you that you’re not revealing.”
“There are a lot of things.”
“Do you have bodies buried in the backyard?”
“I don’t have a backyard.”
