think.
Grey placed the food on the table and sat. My stomach growled. He pushed the appetizers in front of me. I grabbed a ricotta stick and took a bite.
“Who called?” he asked.
I looked down at my lap and brushed off a few crumbs. Oh, Lord. I didn’t want to lie. I cleared my throat. “It wasn’t for me.”
“It’s not your phone,” he said.
I was at a complete loss for words and excuses. What’s the saying? The silence was deafening.
“I don’t want to tell you,” I blurted, sweating like a turkey the day before Thanksgiving.
“I see.” His face hardened. I could sense he was recalculating how to get the information he wanted.
By now my heart pounded so hard I was amazed Grey couldn’t hear it. “Trust me,” I said.
“If you’re in some kind of trouble—”
“I’m not in trouble. I-I can’t tell you right now. Honestly, it’s not even that big of a deal.”
“Then you shouldn’t have a problem answering my question.”
My nervousness started to grow into frustration. I dropped a slice of pizza onto my plate. “If you want ‘us’ to work, trust has to be a two-way street.”
Grey leaned across the table, his eyes flashing a potluck of emotion. “I trust you with my life, and you know it. You’re picking a fight for no reason.”
“I’m not picking a fight.”
“In my experience, when someone purposely hides the truth, it’s always a big deal,” Grey warned.
Warning noted and filed.
Chapter Ten
We’d survived Fluffy’s overnight. Missy and I had shared a queen-sized bed with a king-sized Fluffy, and I’d dreamt about Grey’s king-sized warning. By 9:00 am, I’d rolled out of bed a king-sized grump.
Once I’d walked the dogs (good grief; I didn’t like picking up after such a big dog), I’d brushed my teeth, washed mine and Missy’s faces, and pulled my hair back into a messy ponytail. Everything else would have to wait until after breakfast.
I shuffled around the sunshine-filled kitchen in my fuzzy bulldog slippers, Victoria’s Secret sleeping shorts and tank top (yes, I’d walked the dogs in my PJ’s; no one cares, trust me). I poured a bowl of my favorite cereal, Cap’n Crunch with Crunch Berries, then meandered out to the patio, leaving the French doors open so the dogs could join me.
I settled onto a wicker chair and propped up my feet. What I craved was a chai latte from the Koffee Klatch. If only they delivered. I closed my eyes, tipped my face to the sun and enjoyed the tranquility of the morning. I had a feeling I wasn’t alone. I opened my eyes, and there stood Fluffy. She’d followed as far as the doorway.
“What?”
Fluffy looked back at Missy, who was in the kitchen chowing her scoop of food with one side of her mouth, while managing to drool out the other side at the same time. I’d have to clean the folds of Missy’s face again after breakfast. If I didn’t keep her clean and dry she’d develop dermatitis.
Fluffy returned her attention to me. I knew what she was communicating. Missy was noisy and messy. It was true. Bullies snorted, drooled and passed a lot of gas. But it was that imperfectness that I loved so dearly.
“Sorry, Your Highness, you’ll have to deal with it.”
Unimpressed, Fluffy backed up a couple of steps, then disappeared inside the house.
Once I’d finished my cereal, I shuffled back into the kitchen. I rinsed out my bowl and set it in the sink. I’d worry about the dishes later. Or maybe I’d get lucky and Caro would “drop by.” I was in possession of the brooch, which meant she was bound to show up eventually. I had a new hiding place for the pin. Way better than the cookie jar.
No one truly understood our competition over that Godawful heirloom. Not even Grey. But the brooch was all we had left of Grandma Tillie. She’d had this way of making us feel special, as if we were the only ones she really loved. It was possible that Grandma Tillie knew the brooch was the one thing that would keep Caro and
Grey placed the food on the table and sat. My stomach growled. He pushed the appetizers in front of me. I grabbed a ricotta stick and took a bite.
“Who called?” he asked.
I looked down at my lap and brushed off a few crumbs. Oh, Lord. I didn’t want to lie. I cleared my throat. “It wasn’t for me.”
“It’s not your phone,” he said.
I was at a complete loss for words and excuses. What’s the saying? The silence was deafening.
“I don’t want to tell you,” I blurted, sweating like a turkey the day before Thanksgiving.
“I see.” His face hardened. I could sense he was recalculating how to get the information he wanted.
By now my heart pounded so hard I was amazed Grey couldn’t hear it. “Trust me,” I said.
“If you’re in some kind of trouble—”
“I’m not in trouble. I-I can’t tell you right now. Honestly, it’s not even that big of a deal.”
“Then you shouldn’t have a problem answering my question.”
My nervousness started to grow into frustration. I dropped a slice of pizza onto my plate. “If you want ‘us’ to work, trust has to be a two-way street.”
Grey leaned across the table, his eyes flashing a potluck of emotion. “I trust you with my life, and you know it. You’re picking a fight for no reason.”
“I’m not picking a fight.”
“In my experience, when someone purposely hides the truth, it’s always a big deal,” Grey warned.
Warning noted and filed.
Chapter Ten
We’d survived Fluffy’s overnight. Missy and I had shared a queen-sized bed with a king-sized Fluffy, and I’d dreamt about Grey’s king-sized warning. By 9:00 am, I’d rolled out of bed a king-sized grump.
Once I’d walked the dogs (good grief; I didn’t like picking up after such a big dog), I’d brushed my teeth, washed mine and Missy’s faces, and pulled my hair back into a messy ponytail. Everything else would have to wait until after breakfast.
I shuffled around the sunshine-filled kitchen in my fuzzy bulldog slippers, Victoria’s Secret sleeping shorts and tank top (yes, I’d walked the dogs in my PJ’s; no one cares, trust me). I poured a bowl of my favorite cereal, Cap’n Crunch with Crunch Berries, then meandered out to the patio, leaving the French doors open so the dogs could join me.
I settled onto a wicker chair and propped up my feet. What I craved was a chai latte from the Koffee Klatch. If only they delivered. I closed my eyes, tipped my face to the sun and enjoyed the tranquility of the morning. I had a feeling I wasn’t alone. I opened my eyes, and there stood Fluffy. She’d followed as far as the doorway.
“What?”
Fluffy looked back at Missy, who was in the kitchen chowing her scoop of food with one side of her mouth, while managing to drool out the other side at the same time. I’d have to clean the folds of Missy’s face again after breakfast. If I didn’t keep her clean and dry she’d develop dermatitis.
Fluffy returned her attention to me. I knew what she was communicating. Missy was noisy and messy. It was true. Bullies snorted, drooled and passed a lot of gas. But it was that imperfectness that I loved so dearly.
“Sorry, Your Highness, you’ll have to deal with it.”
Unimpressed, Fluffy backed up a couple of steps, then disappeared inside the house.
Once I’d finished my cereal, I shuffled back into the kitchen. I rinsed out my bowl and set it in the sink. I’d worry about the dishes later. Or maybe I’d get lucky and Caro would “drop by.” I was in possession of the brooch, which meant she was bound to show up eventually. I had a new hiding place for the pin. Way better than the cookie jar.
No one truly understood our competition over that Godawful heirloom. Not even Grey. But the brooch was all we had left of Grandma Tillie. She’d had this way of making us feel special, as if we were the only ones she really loved. It was possible that Grandma Tillie knew the brooch was the one thing that would keep Caro and
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