Page 80 of Dolls & Daggers
“Excuse me?” I lace my voice with sugar. “Could you grab me a few cans of diced tomatoes with basil, please? The brand with the yellow label?”
Robyn perks up, snapping from her daydream. “Of course, honey. How many?”
“Oh, four would be lovely. Thank you.”
As she busies herself with that, I scan the aisle toensure no one’s watching. I slip her phone from her bag, flick it to silent, and shove it in my purse.
She turns, arms full of cans. The moment her gaze lands on me, she falters, nearly dropping them. I snatch two before they hit the ground. “Thank you so much. They make it hard for us short people sometimes.”
Robyn stares, eyes wide, brows dipping like she’s trying to place where she knows me from.
She doesn’t. She can’t. Wren and I aren’t social media official, so if she’s keeping tabs on him that way, she’d never make the connection.
“I’m so sorry.” She laughs, shaking her head. “You just look so much like me. Wow! It’s uncanny.”
Duh, Dove. That’s why she was staring at you like she saw a ghost.
“We do look similar, don’t we?” I chuckle and shrug my shoulders. “They say if you’ve seen one blonde-haired, blue-eyed woman, you’ve seen ‘em all.”
Robyn lets out another loud laugh. “Too right. I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to be awkward.”
“Oh, gosh, you’re fine.” I wave her off. “Thanks again. Have a nice day!”
Before she can respond, I beeline for the checkout with the items that I don’t—and will never—need. Is chickpea pasta even a thing in New York? Or is it a California thing?
Wait… it’s a gluten thing, isn’t it?
Ugh. If I’m eating pasta, I want the real deal. Isn’t there a grain-free flour that makes better noods?
Dialing Bunny, I slide into my car. “Did you know chickpea pasta exists? Please tell me you find that as gross as I do.”
Her answer is a tummy grumble that I can hear clear through the phone before she releases the most disgusting belch I’ve ever heard from her. “Chickpea pasta fucks up my stomach. It’s not that bad, though,” she says weakly once she’s exorcised her inner gaseous demons.
“What was that?” I snort a laugh as I drive away, intent on finding the elusive In-N-Out that Wren has on a pedestal. He claims they have the best burgers ever.
He’s wrong. When it comes to chains, Shake Shack does, and no one can change my mind about that.
But… when in Rome…
“I think that pizza we ate yesterday was bad. I’ve been sick in bed all day.”
I feel fine. Maybe she caught a stomach bug.
“Oh, poor baby. Why don’t you ask Hunter to bring you some soup when he gets home tomorrow? Maybe he can kiss it and make it better,” I coo in a baby voice.
Bunny stays quiet for a beat before an irritated sigh fills the speaker. “I did,” she laments softly.
“Wow. You must really feel bad. DoorDash would have had it there way faster than Hunter. Duh.”
The bright yellow arrow I’m looking for catches my attention, and I turn on my blinker.
Found it! Now, what did Wren say? I need to try it animal style?
“He said, and I quote, ‘Sorry you aren’t feeling well. I’m not in town, but even if I were, I don’t want to get sick.’” She blows a raspberry.
“Whoa. What’d you do to piss off Detective Dick?” I cover the speaker as I place my order.
“Are you getting In-N-Out? Oh my god, fries and a shake sound so good,” she groans.
