Page 110 of The Holiday Hate-Off
I clear my throat. “Save you from every Porta Potty in coastal Maine.”
“How gallant of you.”
She steps closer and reaches up to wrap the scarf around my throat. Her warm hands slide from the scarf to my neck, and they linger there, although her body remains several inches away. Just a few minutes ago I was inside of her. I want to be inside of her again, preferably sooner rather than later. I’d like to spend the whole day inside of her.
“Are you going to strangle me?” I tease, holding her gaze as she plays with the ends of the scarf.
“What use would I have for you if you were dead?” she asks, her pupils dilated.
“Judging from the collection of taxidermied animals in the other room, you’d figure something out.”
“What?” She steps back, her forehead creasing.
“Okay, fine. You caught me. I poked around a little last night. You would have done the same in my shoes. I know you would have.”
“Yes, obviously I would have snooped, but I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she says, straight-faced, and I can tell she really doesn’t.
Thank God.
“Lucy, there’s a cupboard full of weird taxidermied animals in the living room.”
Her gaze narrows. “You’re messing with me. Again. Seriously, I thought we were beyond that.”
I take her hand and lead her into the other room, my fingers linking naturally with hers, and come to a stop in front of the cabinet of curiosities.
“They’re in there?” she asks, whispering even though we’re alone in here except for Bowie.
“You can do the honors,” I say, nodding toward it, and I drop her hand.
The last several months of my life have been so full of strange surprises that I half expect nothing will be in there. But she opens it tentatively, and there they are.
And the look on her face…
She turns to me. “Did you do this? Did you hide them all in there?”
I look at her deadpan. “You think I found half a dozen taxidermied animals last night, when everything was closed, and hid them in this cabinet while you were sleeping? I’m flattered you think so highly of my skills, but no. You really didn’t know about them?”
She grimaces at the chihuahua fox. “No. I mean, the woman who owns this place is a little eccentric, but I wouldn’t have expected this. I should have guessed there’d be more weird stuff. There must be fifty tins of sardines in the kitchen cabinet.”
“This isn’t your place,” I say, my pulse racing. Puzzle pieces start rearranging themselves in my brain.
“You thought these were my taxidermied animals, and you slept with me anyway?” she asks, laughing. When she sees the look on my face, she laughs harder, bending over, her hair everywhere.
God, she’s beautiful when she’s laughing at me.
“I was trying to be nonjudgmental,” I say with a smile. “I figured there was a risk I might end up in your cabinet of horrors, but it seemed like it was worth it.”
“I’m flattered,” she says, still laughing.
“You should be,” I say. “So are we squatting in a serial killer’s house?”
She’s shaking with laughter as she gives my arm a light punch. “I’m cat-sitting for one of our regulars.”
“Ah, so I don’t have to add catnapping to your list of potentialcrimes.”
“I won’t say I’m not tempted,” she says, her laughter finally dying down as she glances back toward the bedroom. “It’s a bit lonely at my place. I lived with Charlie when I first moved to Hideaway Harbor, but she moved in with Lars a month ago. Well, you probably know all about that.”
“Not really. I only met him a couple of times before he and Aria broke up.”
