Page 2 of Her Frosty Billionaire
Mollie’s eyes widened. “You stole a billionaire’s mail?”
“I didn’t steal it. It was in the parcel locker with these other packages.”
“Hope.” Avery set her laptop aside, suddenly very interested. “You can’t just keep someone’s package.”
“I’m not keeping it. I’m going to return it.”
“When?”
“Later.”
“How much later?”
“After you finish baking all those cookies.”
Mollie laughed. “You’re the worst.”
“I’m not opening it,” I protested, even though I’d absolutely considered it.
Avery raised an eyebrow. “Yet.”
I groaned and flopped onto the couch next to her. “What if it’s something important? What if N. Frost is up there right now, pacing his penthouse, wondering where his package is?”
“Then you should probably take it back.”
“Or,” Mollie said, pointing a wooden spoon at me, “you could leave it with the concierge.”
That was way too logical.
“Fine. I’ll take it down in a minute.” I grabbed the other three boxes and checked the labels. “Okay, so this one’s Avery’s face serum, this one’s…also yours—seriously?—and this one…” I picked up a flat rectangular box and grinned. “This one’s mine.”
I tore into it with the enthusiasm of a five-year-old on Christmas morning. Inside were my beautiful, glittery, rose gold pine cones.
Perfect. I held one up to the light, and it sparkled like something a fairy godmother would approve of.
“Worth it?” Avery asked.
“So worth it.”
I set the pine cone down gently and eyed the mystery box on the coffee table. Just a peek.
“Don’t do it,” Mollie warned, reading my mind.
“I’m not going to.”
“You’re totally going to.”
I grabbed the box.
“Hope Haynes, you’ll get us evicted,” Avery said.
“Relax. I’m just going to look at the label more closely.”
I turned it over in my hands. The address was printed clearly, but there was no return label. No clue as to what was inside.
I shook it again. Still nothing.
“This is how horror movies start,” Avery muttered.
