Page 50 of Crazy In Love (Secrets of Suburbi 3)

I wasn't sure what his problem was. I was protecting him too. It's not like I'd ever use the knife on his cute little body. We were a team. What was I even thinking about? I still needed to finish my search. "Go check the bathroom, boy."

Instead of listening to me, Snuggle Muffins lay back down.

Laziness. That was the only excuse. I made my way over to the bathroom. Snuggle Muffins was in a particularly unhelpful mood tonight. But he’d growled at my drug dealer neighbor earlier. He'd been snippy with Charlotte. He usually had my back. At least as much as a dog could. So I felt fairly safe as I turned on the lights in the master bath. Besides, the bathroom was small for a master and I could tell Noah wasn't in there.

But he had been. I reached down and lifted the damp towel off the floor. Had he taken a freaking shower? There were splashes of water all over the tiled floor. And the rest of his clothes were strewn about. Oh God, was he naked? I should have been terrified that he was definitely somewhere in the house. But I was a little excited at the thought of him running around hiding from me in his birthday suit. His body was more delicious than the candy canes in my Christmas stocking. Stop it. I didn't want to see Noah naked. I'd seen it before, but him being gorgeous didn't mean his personality matched. He was hideous on the inside. If his outside matched his inners, he'd be wrinkly with a wonky eye, a crooked nose, and missing front teeth. A monster.

I threw the towel back down on the floor. When I found him, I'd make him hang it up like a normal human instead of the Neanderthal he was. He was so freaking annoying. I was a housewife, not a maid paid to clean up his shit. I shifted the knife in my hand and walked back out into the bedroom. Where the hell could his naked ass be?

Snuggle Muffins started barking again.

"Please stop it." I lifted him into my arms. "You keep freaking me out." He quieted down as soon as he was in my arms. I'd gotten the most needy dog in the world. But I was pretty sure he comforted me as much as I comforted him. And I was never letting him go again.

A siren sounded in the distance. My first thought was that someone had called 9-1-1 when they spotted a butt naked Noah streaking the snowy neighborhood. That would be enough to call the police. It was possible that he was also brandishing one of my knives though. Maybe even yelling things about his crazy wife kidnapping him.

But then the vehicle started honking. By the sound I knew what was actually going on and it had nothing to do with Noah. I threw open the curtains, not caring that my knife sliced through the fabric. The fire truck was still far away. I could just make out its lights a few streets over. But I was positive that Santa Claus would be sitting atop it, waving. The fire department had one of the firefighters dress up like Santa and drive by before Christmas every year. They all tossed candy to the children and spread Christmas cheer. I always loved the spectacle.

A part of me wanted to stay by the window and wait for the truck to reach my street. But I couldn't do that right now. I let the curtains fall back in place. First of all, I didn't have time to wave at Santa when there was a madman loose in my house. And second, if I waved, a knife or a dog would have been in my hand. Neither seemed particularly sane. So now I wasn’t just missing out on relaxing during the first snowfall of the year with a cup of hot chocolate. I was also missing Santa gracing my neighborhood. Noah was ruining everything. God, I hated my stupid husband.

"Noah!" I called. This was ridiculous. "I know you're in here! Come out!" I walked back into the hall. My eyes glanced up at the attic for just a second. No way in hell was I going up there. It was the only place in the house that was creepier than the basement. As far as I was concerned, if he was up there, he could stay there. It was his. Squatter's rights galore.

But if he was anywhere else in the house, I was going to find him. Snuggle Muffins and I searched the other upstairs rooms quickly. Noah was nowhere in sight. Then we walked downstairs and proceeded to turn on all the lights in the house. Every single one. We were lit up more than any of the over-decorated houses in our neighborhood. We checked all the rooms we hadn't yet, including the small downstairs bathroom and even the hall closet. Noah wasn't nestled behind the toilet or the winter coats. He was nowhere to be found at all. But when we went back into the kitchen, there was an opened jar of peanut butter on the counter and a piece of bread sitting on a plate. No peanut butter had made its way onto the bread.

I breathed a sigh of relief. All Noah was doing was showering and making sandwiches. He wasn't doing anything menacing. It really didn't seem like he intended to hurt me. At least, I hoped. I'd certainly given him plenty of opportunities to jump out and stab me. Yet, I was still standing. I just had a few things to clean up, thanks to his sloppiness.

I lifted the bread and smiled despite the mess. Noah was hungry. The power was back in my hands. The only food he'd had all day was cold bacon. I knew how to get him out of wherever he was hiding. I pulled the weed out of the utensil drawer. It was time to bake Noah a special treat to lure him out. If there was one thing I was good at, it was baking. All proper housewives were.

Chapter 19

Sunday

It was good that I had a recipe or else I would have made the pot brownies all wrong. It seemed logical to just substitute weed in place of some of the flour. But apparently I had to make weed butter to integrate the drug more seamlessly. After a few clicks on Pinterest I came to the best weed butter recipe.

The siren growing louder outside was making it hard to concentrate. Or maybe it was the fact that my phone was shaking in my hands. Or that I kept glancing up every two seconds to see if Noah was about to murder me. It really felt like he was somewhere in the kitchen, even though I'd already double-checked every hiding place, pantry included.

Focus. The article wanted me to make the weed butter in a Crockpot. Were they kidding? There had to be a faster method than this. I didn't want to spend the rest of the night waiting to trap Noah. It was bad enough that it felt like he was watching me right this second.

I turned around, but it was just Snuggle Muffins staring into the hall. For some reason that was even creepier. I knew that Snuggle Muffins knew where Noah was. The staring-into-the-void thing he had going on wasn’t fooling anyone. But I didn't know how to make him show me. "Are you excited about seeing Santa on the fire truck, Snuggle Muffins?"

He didn't turn toward my voice.

"Snuggle Muffins?" The little hairs on the back of my neck rose and I glanced out the back door again. God, I was going to have a heart attack and die if I didn't find Noah soon. Screw the Crockpot method. Besides, if I did that, my whole house would smell like a weed factory. The last thing I needed was for Detective Torres to stop by tomorrow and smell pot in the air.

I scrolled through Pinterest and eventually found a faster recipe for the stove, but it still took three hours. Didn't they know I was about to be murdered? Fuck it. I'd just do it for less time. I turned on the burner and grabbed a stick of butter from the fridge. Less time meant less potent. So to make up for the weak pot butter, I quadrupled the amount of weed I put into it. I wasn't just trying to give Noah a good trip. I wanted him to freaking go loony for a few minutes before passing out on the kitchen floor butt naked. I paused with my hand on the butter. Why had I gone straight to butt naked Noah? I tried to dismiss the thought as I got to work on my trap.

After a few minutes the smell of weed was already filling the air. Damn it. It wasn't just Detective Torres' nose I was worried about. I didn't want Noah to know that I was drugging him either. If this plan was going to work, I had to have the element of surprise on my side. I tried to ignore the fact that it felt like someone was watching me as I hit the fan above the stove. If Noah was lurking in the hallway, none of this would matter. He'd know. I lit a few candles just in case luck was on my side and Noah didn't know I was about to drug him. Again. At least this time I wouldn't push him down the stairs. Slipped. He slipped down the stairs.

I looked over at Snuggle Muffins as I went back to the stove. He was still staring into the empty hallway toward the front door. He was being more creepy than comforting. "Here, boy," I called. "Come hang out with Mommy." I cringed. I was not this old dog's mother. The thought was silly.

His ears perked up, but he didn't move.

"Snuggle Muffins, please stop staring down the hall."

He didn't move.

I abandoned my weed butter and picked up the chef's knife. "Noah?" I whispered as I made my way over to my dog. I peered into the empty hall and swallowed hard. "Noah?" I took a few steps toward the living room. Sometimes I thought the living room was creepier than the basement or attic. I barely ever went in it. For a room with the name "living" in it, you'd think it would be more inviting. It should be called the dying room instead.

I peered around the corner but there was nothing out of the ordinary. The knife started to slip out of my hand, but I somehow caught it without cutting myself. How was I supposed to focus on baking when I could barely stop shaking?

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