Page 38 of Two Sticky Nuts

“You already are, Mila.”

“You guys barely know me.”

He shrugs. “Doesn’t change how I feel, and doesn’t change that you’re on his radar, and he’ll do everything within his power to seduce you just so I can’t have you.”

“First off, youcan’thave me, but that has nothing to do with him. It has everything to do with you. And second, even if you are telling the truth, the pot’s soured. You two need to work your shit out. I don’t want to be a part of it.”

Suddenly, I hear sirens outside. I blink and then walk to the window. There are two patrol cars out front.

“What the hell?”

Carter looks outside, too, and snarls, “Fucking Logan. I’m going to kill him.”

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“I’ll bet you a dollar that he called them and said I was here to kidnap you.”

“No, Officer Parker,” I say. “Carter Strike was not here attempting to kidnap me.”

He glances over his shoulder at Carter, who’s handcuffed in the back of his squad car. “Are you certain, ma’am? Because the caller said you would deny it. This man is known for intimidating women.”

“Are you telling me that man right there in your car has a history of abducting women?”

“No, ma’am. He has a history of coercion.”

“I-I don’t know what to tell you, but I’m fine. He was invited in.”

“So he’s staying with you?” the officer asks.

“No,” I say. “He was feeling upset, and I let him sleep on my couch. He’s leaving now.”

“He just told us he’s living here.”

“Uh…no. No, it was just one night.”

Suddenly a FedEx truck pulls up. Out hops the driver and walks up to me. “Hello, I have a package? Can you sign?”

“What is it?” I ask.

I notice Carter screaming from the back of the police car. “Please, Mila. Just sign!”

Oh God.I don’t know what to do. It’s probably just a package, but I’m not sure why it’s being delivered here.

I sign, and the driver goes back to his truck. A few minutes later, he comes out with a huge crate.

“What’s that?” I ask.

“Looks like ice-cream toppings,” the officer points out. “For a Mr. Sticky Nuts?”

I go over to the box and inspect the label on the side.Ohgod. They are toppings. “Whoa. Whoa. Nope. No. Nuh-uh. Take that stuff back right now,” I tell the driver.

“Sorry, ma’am, but you already signed.” The driver leaves the enormous wooden box in front of the garage and then zips off.

I march to the squad car with the window cracked open. “Carter, what is that?”

“I don’t know.”

“You told me to sign.”

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