Page 62 of The Cuddle Clause
Maggie shrugged. “I need to make sure you’re not secretly a coward.”
“Oh, I’m a lot of things, Mags. But a coward isn’t one of them.”
I started toward the door.
“I’m watching.” She followed me to the hall but ducked just around the corner, her head barely visible.
“Creep,” I muttered.
“I have popcorn in spirit.”
I knocked twice on Doris’s door, loud enough to wake a cryptid. Then I stood there, shirtless, barefoot, and completely regretting my life choices. A few seconds later, the door creaked open. Doris stared at me like she was debating whether to swat me with a broom or a rosary.
“Roman,” she said slowly, eyes narrowing behind her bifocals. “Why are you shirtless?”
I gave her my best earnest face. “Doris, I need your help. I just got back from a nature hike. I think I may have been exposed to a… a tick situation.”
Her expression didn’t change.
“Could you check my back?” I turned slightly. “I’d ask Maggie, but she’s squeamish.”
From around the corner, Maggie let out a very un-squeamish snort.
Doris crossed her arms. “Are you on drugs?”
“No! I’m high on life, Doris. Life and public health awareness.”
That’s when I lost it. I tried so hard to keep it together, but I couldn’t quite hold in a snort of laughter.
Doris squinted at me and pointed a sharp, wrinkled finger. “Ticks are no laughing matter, young man. You think this is a joke?”
“I—uh—no, ma’am,” I managed, biting down hard on the inside of my cheek.
“You better turn around. They like to hide in crevices.” She took a step forward. “And don’t you go getting shy on me. You think Lyme disease is sexy? ’Cause it’s not.”
That broke me. The laugh exploded out before I could stop it. Full-body, gasping, can’t-breathe laughter. My knees buckled under the effort of staying upright.
Maggie was losing it around the corner, fully bent over, trying to keep it together but absolutely failing. She had her arm over her mouth to muffle her laughter, but I could still hear it. It was the only thing that kept me from collapsing.
I glanced over my shoulder. Doris squinted harder, leaning slightly to the side to see around the corner. “Iknowyou’re over there,” she barked. “You think you’re hiding? I can hear you cackling like a damn hyena.”
Maggie peeked out, red-faced, still grinning like a kid who got caught sneaking cookies from a locked jar.
“Oh no, no,” Doris said, pointing at her like she was directing traffic. “You better get over here and help this poor man. If he’s got ticks, they’reyourproblem too. They could’ve hitched a ride in during one of your little cuddle fests or whatever it is you two are doing.”
My eyes nearly bugged out of my head. “Cuddle—? Doris, I?—”
“Don’t ‘Doris’ me, boy,” she snapped. “And you”—she jabbed a finger toward Maggie, who was now crying with laughter—“stop hiding and check your man’s crevices. Don’t act like you haven’t seen ’em.”
Maggie lost it again, laughing so hard she had to prop herself up on the wall.
“I—I can’t,” she gasped.
“Youcan, and youwill,” Doris declared. “Ticks like warm, damp places. I’m not explaining that twice.”
That did it. I had to hold the door frame to stay upright, wheezing out, “We’re going, we’re leaving, we’re done, I swear.”
Doris exhaled slowly. “Lord help me. The youth are helpless.”
