Page 13 of Grump Hard
“No,” I assure her. “I didn’t call Kevin, I…” I glance around the lobby, ensuring we’re alone before I lean in to whisper, “I’ll spill, but you have to promise not to judge me until I’ve explained the entire situation.”
“I will be judging you the entire time,” she says flatly. “We’ve been friends long enough, you should know that by now. But I’ll still always be on your side. Even if you did call Kevin.”
“Thank you. And fair.” I pull in a breath, quickly recounting everything that happened last night. From ducking out of the Reindeer 5K early to sketch in the tower room at town hall, to losing track of time and being interrupted by an unexpected cat burglar out to steal the Captain’s peg leg.
Candy’s eyes bulge. “You witnessed a robbery, and you didn’t call me the second you got home last night to tell me? And to let me know that you were okay, obviously. What did the sheriff’s department do? Are they pressing charges?”
“I haven’t called the sheriff’s department.” A thrill shivers across my skin as I share the most delicious part, “Because I knew the cat burglar well enough to feel confident handling the problem myself.”
Her brows snap together, her judgy face in full effect. “Define ‘handling it,’ Holly Jo.”
“I blackmailed him.”
“You did what?” she squeaks. “Holly, that’s illegal! Not to mention dangerous. What if he decides to take you out before you can expose his crimes?”
“He didn’t actually commit a crime,” I say. “He put the peg leg back in the case before he left. And like I said, I know him. He’s not the kind of guy to seek vengeance. He’s really nice.” I shrug as I add, “Well, he used to be nice. He wasn’t very nice last night. He was pretty grumpy and cheerless, actually, but I think that’s just because he’s sad about his grandad passing and needs someone to help boost his holiday spirit.”
Candy winces. “Oh no. Please don’t tell me you’re attempting another man rescue. I’ve told you, honey, men are not like cats. Once they’ve gone feral, you might as well give up hope. They will never be successfully reintegrated into society. The kindest thing we can do for them is bless their hearts and warn our girlfriends not to engage with them on the dating apps.”
“This man isn’t feral,” I insist.
“He sounds feral.”
“He’s not!”
“He was breaking and entering,” Candy maintains. “To steal something gross, I might add. That peg leg has always given me the creeps.”
I nod. “I’m pretty sure Luke would agree with you on that. I think that’s why he was trying to steal it, to put all the people who think it’s creepy out of their misery.”
She frowns. “Luke who?”
“Luke Ratcliffe,” I whisper, inspiring a louder squeak from Candy.
She slaps a hand over her mouth, clearly fighting for control before she hisses, “Luke Ratcliffe?! Of the Ratcliffes? The billionaires with the giant mansion on the hill, who live to buy up historical properties and expand their evil empire?”
I roll my eyes. “Their empire isn’t evil. They charge the lowest rents in the county. And they rent to locals looking for long-term housing, not tourists shopping for Airbnbs.”
“I still can’t get behind a billionaire,” she says, wrinkling her nose. “They’re all a little bit evil.” Her tone grows more pointed as she adds, “And they all have people willing to do whatever it takes to make their problems disappear. He’s probably plotting to have you kidnapped and shipped to a turnip farm in the far reaches of Uzbekistan as we speak.” I laugh, but she doubles down, “I’m serious. You will be forced to work for pennies until you learn enough Uzbek to explain what happened and beg them to take you to a town with a phone so you can call the U.S. embassy.”
“All the towns in Uzbekistan have phones,” I counter, though I’m honestly not one-hundred percent sure.
I wasn’t aware “Uzbek” was a language until five seconds ago.
Candy concedes, “True, but still. This is bad! You can’t blackmail people like Luke Ratcliffe. He’s going to sue you into oblivion. By the time he’s done with you, you won’t be able to afford gas, let alone updated camera equipment. I’ll have to wait for your dad to deliver the goat cheese, along with tales of woe about his daughter’s tragic downfall.”
“He’s not going to sue me,” I say, dismissing her concerns with a swish of my hand. “He was caught red-handed attempting to commit a crime. I have it all on video, which I’ve already downloaded to my computer for safekeeping. Just in case.”
Candy hums low in her throat, clearly still far from impressed. “You should set up a dead man’s switch.”
“A what?”
“A dead man’s switch,” she says. “A mechanism that ensures all the evidence is forwarded to the police in the event of your untimely demise. Or sudden disappearance.”
“I don’t need a—” My phone buzzes in my coat pocket, making my heart leap.
It’s Luke. My grumpy elf recruit.
Somehow, I just know it’s him, even before I open the message to see two words from an unfamiliar number—I’m in.
