Page 117 of Bears Behaving Badly
“One we should take seriously.”
“Of course.”
“You’re going to kiss me again now.”
“Of course.”
“And we’re going out. To put the rumors to rest at the very least.”
“I’m in,” David replied. “Who knows? We might end up enjoying each other’s company.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
Chapter 37
“Dear God. Mama Mac has learned to, as you would put it, text like a motherfucker.” Annette’s phone had come back to life like a tiny Frankenstein’s monster, buzzing and shaking in her hand. “And I have a text from…Jenn? Of Jim and Jenn Griffith?”
“They might’ve heard we got hurt.”
“Might have, huh?” Annette was scrolling through a river of texts. “Did they also ‘might have’ my phone number from an old friend?”
“Don’t know anything about that,” David replied. “Nope. Also you might be invited to Thanksgiving.”
“I can’t. Mama Mac’s vengeance would be immense and far-reaching. I was hoping you’d come toourThanksgiving, provided we can still stand each other come November.”
“That’s the spirit. And did I mention that Jim is the range chef for Loon River? He can spatchcock a turkey like a motherfucker.”
“On the other hand, it’s smart to cultivate goodwill with Stable allies.” Annette kept scrolling past the minutia, pausing now and again to fire off a quick retort. “Thanks for bringing a charger, by the way. Though I did enjoy the screen vacation. Maybe I should get shot every few months or so.”
“Sure. Way easier than just shutting off your phone, right?”
“Is that you being subtle? Because that wasn’t s—left, left,left! What’s that noise?”
“Nothing.”
“I heard something, David. Coming from the driver’s side. Where you are currently perched. As you drive us.”
“I’m not grinding my teeth,” he growled, “if that’s what you’re wondering.”
“You did that before, too. Do you do that every time you drive?”
“Not every time.”
Annette chortled as she raided the car’s ashtray for another handful of Skittles. “You should mix it up a little. Less red. More everything else.”
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.” David pulled into her driveway, parked, shut the car off, unbuckled his seat belt. “Sit right there. I’m coming around to help you.”
“David, you’re the one with the limp. If anyone is helping anyone, it’s bound to be the other way around.”
“What did Isay?” David cried as he speed-hobbled around the car, getting to Annette just in time for her to stand and close the passenger door. They reached for each other, but Annette was a bit faster as she slung an arm around his waist and started tugging him toward the front door. Her home had never looked so good, and that included the time that Pat had it painted “Homage Eggplant,” as he dubbed it, after one of Mama Mac’s visits.
It didn’t feel like she’d only been gone a few days. It felt longer, like the house should have looked run-down and abandoned, with peeling paint, weeds in the driveway, broken windows, and an abandoned mailbox.
She fumbled with her keys, dropped them twice…
“Wanna shift? Then tear it down with claws and teeth? I’ll help.”
“Good God, no. Is that really your go-to if you don’t get a door unlocked in twenty seconds?”
