Page 109 of A Not So Merry Rescue
A rustling comes across the line, but I can’t make out what she’s saying or who she’s talking to.
“Did you eat dinner yet?”
I reflect on earlier. “Uh, nope. Definitely didn’t do that. That must be why I’m starving.” I chuckle. I get up off the couch and head into the kitchen, pulling open the tall cabinet door. “Let’s see. Cereal or pasta. What sounds most appealing?”
My doorbell rings. Seriously? Who is here at eight p.m. on a Thursday evening?
“Clem, can I call you back? Someone’s at my door.”
“No!” she yells. “I mean, stay on the line. Because what if it’s an axe murderer or a serial killer or a robber? I need to know you’re safe.”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t be dramatic.”
Her laugh sounds in my ear. “Me, dramatic. Funny coming from you.”
The peephole reveals no one standing on the porch, but there’s a white paper bag on the table. “There’s a takeout bag on the porch. Did you order me food?”
“Nope.”
“Why do I get the sense you know more than you’re saying?”
“I’m not saying anything.”
“I noticed.” I unlatch the deadbolt and pry the door open. An eerie chill washes over me. “Is someone going to jump out at me? Is this a prank?”
Clem giggles on the other side of the line. “No prank. No jumping. Just look in the bag.”
I put the phone on speaker and rest it beside the bag. Peering inside, it’s not hot food. It’s a, “What in the ever love?” I bring out the package of hot cocoa Oreos, the one I hid in Beckett’s pantry--evidenced by the red heart I drew in the corner—and never told him about. But how did it end up here? “Uh, Clem?”
“Call me later. I want all the details. Well, maybe notallthe details. And tomorrow is fine, too. But call me!” she screams into the phone before the call drops.
“She hung up on me. Rude.”
I put on my best AJ Hart detective hat, trying to figure out what’s going on and how Clem got involved.
“It took me a month to find, but I found it.” At the sound of the male voice at my back, I spin around, the cookies flying from my hands in surprise. Beckett easily catches them.
“Beckett! You freaking scared me.” I put my hand to my chest, willing my heart rate to regulate. It’s a losing battle. Between being nearly scared to death and Beckett standing on my porch, no chance in hell I’ll calm down soon.
“Sorry, but you were taking too long to figure this out. I couldn’t wait any longer.”
“How are you here? How did you get Clem’s number?”
“Facebook Messenger,” he states nonchalantly, as if it’s obvious.
“What are you doing here?”
“Are you a miserable fuck?”
His words make no sense and are kinda rude. “Huh?”
He takes a step closer. His stubble’s a little longer than it was when we spent time together, like he’s decidedly not shaven on purpose. Purple circles under his eyes signify he hasn’t been sleeping. He’s no less handsome than the last day I saw him. Despite my initial shock, it’s damn good to see him.
“Autumn tells me daily I’m a miserable fuck. Are you?”
“A miserable fuck? Care to elaborate so I can confirm or deny whether I am?”
He points behind me to my apartment. “Can I explain in there? It’s kinda chilly out here.”
