Bewitched (Betwixt & Between #2) - Darynda Jones Page 0,71
Maybe ask around. Knowing Annette, she’s shopping for scented underwear.”
“I’ll drive,” he said, his tone a rather firm brook-no-argument.
My girl parts noticed. An illicit ripple of desire spiked within them. “You can drive into me,” I whispered to myself, about half a second before the excellent-hearing thing registered. Why did I keep forgetting that? Heat creeping up my neck, I pretended I hadn’t said that out loud and continued on my way.
He chuckled behind me.
I chose to ignore that too. Before I got to the stairs however, a knock sounded at the door. Naturally. “I swear, if it’s Vogel—”
“It’s not,” Roane said.
“Oh.” It was still frustrating. I walked to the door and swung it wide.
A brunette stood there, pretty, mid-twenties, her face the picture of panic.
She opened her mouth, but I was in a hurry. “It’s under the sink behind the towels.”
She blinked in surprise. “But I already—”
I started to close the door then paused. “Not that sink.”
“Oh. Why would it be—?”
This time I did close the door. Only to open it right back up. “Because you bought the thing for the guy, and then he came over early and you panicked, much like you’re doing now, so you stuffed it under the sink behind the blue towels—not the white ones—and in the process, your bracelet snagged on a towel and fell off your wrist.”
I’d apparently sent her into a state of shock. She stood unmoving, a little birdlike sound escaping her open mouth every so often.
“’Kay.” I closed the door and ran upstairs for my jacket, which was way more effort than I wanted to put into avoiding hyperthermia. I’d have to remember to utilize the cloakroom off the foyer. And the detour took too much time.
A knock sounded again before I could escape.
After rolling my eyes so far back into my head I almost seized, I opened the door again. Still didn’t have time for the explanation that was on the tip of the older woman’s tongue. She did have a spiffy blue ’do though.
“The neighbor kid stole it. It’s in a vent in his bedroom.” I pushed on the door but changed my mind. “You really shouldn’t leave stuff like that out in the open.”
I shut the door just as a third knock sounded. I gaped at Roane. “Nette clearly got the word out. Breadcrumbs, Incorporated is officially in business.”
He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the banister. “She’s going to have a fit when she finds out you aren’t charging these people.”
“Oh, crap.” I winced. “I didn’t even think of that. Oh well. It’s kind of her fault.”
This time I opened the door to an older gentleman. A gentleman who did not deserve my assistance.
I pointed a damning finger at him. “Don’t even think about making a request like that.”
His jaw fell open, and he tried unsuccessfully to stammer an explanation that I had neither the time nor the inclination to hear.
Spearing him my best glare, I stepped closer. “Serves you right for trying to hide that kind of thing from your wife. Two words, buddy: habeas corpus.”
I was just about to close the door for the two hundredth time when two teen girls wearing far too little clothes and far too much makeup started up the walk. What the hell had Annette done? Hire a skywriter?
“Seven!” I called to them before they even got close.
They stopped in their tracks. “Oh. Are you . . . are you sure?” one of them asked, looking away from her phone for a precious few seconds. Not that I had any room to talk, but still.
I gave her my best deadpan and waited for my answer to sink in.
They looked at each other, emitted a high-pitched radio wave, and embraced while jumping up and down in utter delight. Then the one with the phone shouted over her friend’s shoulder, “Thank you!”
I waved and closed the door.
“What was that about?” Roane asked.
“You don’t want to know.”
“I do, actually.” He led me to the back of the house so we could take his truck.
“Well, it involved stolen cherry schnapps, several rounds of spin the bottle, and ten visits to the coat check room at the country club.”
“And the number seven?”
“A secret admirer whose only clue was the fact that he fell in love with her under a sea of coats.”
He nodded.
“Coat check number seven.”
“Got it.” Dimples appeared on his cheeks.
“No accidents were called in,” Papi said as we strode past.