Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 39170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 196(@200wpm)___ 157(@250wpm)___ 131(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 196(@200wpm)___ 157(@250wpm)___ 131(@300wpm)
“And so the two of you continue living together.” Did she detect a snicker in his tone? “How is having a roommate?”
“Wonderful and terrible and amazing and awful.” She grabbed three boxes of rice and tossed them in the basket, then adjusted the mini top hat she’d paired with her black and white dress. Jane planned to prepare a holiday feast the likes of which her guests had never seen. “He takes out the trash, gets things from top shelves for me, and washes dishes. He doesn’t get in my way. In fact, I think he sometimes actively avoids me to give me my space.”
“Yes, that does sound terrible,” he told her, using an even drier tone than before.
“Thank you! Finally someone agrees with me,” she replied, choosing to ignore his sarcasm. If he didn’t mean it, he shouldn’t say it. “We’ve been super friendly with each other.” But she wasn’t sure she’d ever been more miserable. “I hate the Ladling curse so much.”
He didn’t respond right away, his expression pensive. “I’ll be honest. I agree with him. I think the curse is only true because you believe it.” Beau shot out his arm and snagged a package of soft, orange circus peanuts, and tossed it in the cart. “If anyone could break it, though, it’s Conrad. That man might have you beat in the stubborn department.”
One could hope. Wait, had Beau called her stubborn?
“He’s even making progress on the hearse case,” he said.
“He is?” Her heart rate sped up. “He hasn’t mentioned anything to me.”
Her companion blanched. “Maybe I misspoke?”
Jane paused to prop a hand on her hip. “Beauregard Harden, you tell me what theory he’s pursuing right this second or so help me, I’ll call up Sora myself and set up a series of double dates.”
He lifted a brow again, this time in challenge. “Oh yeah? Who are you bringing?”
Yep, that one stung. “Who says I’ll be there? These double date will be with you and Sora and Fiona and Sheriff Moore.”
Her brother of the heart lifted his hands in surrender. “Conrad’s identified the mechanic who screwed with the pipes. He’s narrowed down who paid–”
“What?”
Unease filtered over his expression, and he scrubbed a hand over his beautiful face. “No, you know what? If he hasn’t told you about it, he has a good reason. I won’t be telling you anything else, I don’t care what you threaten.”
Oh really? “Please know this will pain you far more than it pains me, but it’s got to be done. Your punishment is the silent treatment. Five—two!—whole minutes of it.”
He stopped in the middle of the aisle and pretended to stab himself in the heart.
She stopped too. “You brought this on yourself. Also, the clock hasn’t started yet. Obviously.”
“Shouldn’t I be rewarded for my integrity?” he asked, hopeful.
Leaning in, she told him, “Why do you think I deducted three minutes?”
His broad shoulders slumped in faux dejection, but only for a moment. He straightened and narrowed his eyes. “Guess what? I’m giving you the silent treatment too.”
“As if! What crime have I committed?”
“You stole my common sense,” he accused. “There is no other reason I would be in an argument about the silent treatment.”
“Ha! The judge just threw out your case for lack of evidence. Which means the argument is over, and I won. Anything else you add from this point forward is the start of a new one. So. The best you can do now is break me, and we both know that’s impossible. Now come on. The groceries won’t jump into my cart on their own. Get to fetching.”
In the promised silence, she collected another item she needed for the, admittedly, elaborate menu she’d chosen. Besides the traditional roasted turkey and ham, cornbread dressing, mashed potatoes and gravy, sweet potato casserole with marshmallows, butternut squash soup, green bean casserole, broccoli and rice casserole, jalapeño popper mac ‘n cheese, the world’s best deviled eggs, all the greens and cole slaw, there’d be half a dozen different pies, a few cakes, and cookies. Probably a pudding and a sticky toffee too.
“Oh, I think I know how I can get you to talk to me before time is up,” he said, twenty seconds into his required two minutes.
She pressed her lips firmly together, projecting a challenge. Try me.
“Is there a perfect hat for my face type?” Beau asked.
Ack! The question was so, so good, an answer nearly snuck past her tongue. Yes! A black, flat-topped pilgrim’s hat, complete with buckle. But she gripped the basket tighter to keep from blurting out her answer.
“We both know you love dressing me up,” he said next. “Tell me a costume, any costume, no matter how grotesque, tight or emasculating, and I’ll wear it to Thanksgiving dinner. But only if you tell me right this second.”
Gah! Another doozy. He would make the perfect turkey, complete with red, yellow and brown feathers. Except, Jane was a woman of her word, dang it, with a stubborn streak like no other. She pretended to concentrate on her shopping list instead.