right turn onto a major thoroughfare when he says, “Uh-oh. That’s not good.”
“What?”
“You’re on Twitter.” His thumbs move ninety miles an hour. “And Facebook.”
“This is news?”
“Let me see.” Ariel grabs the phone from him. “Oh my God. Somebody snapped you in the church.”
“Show me that.”
I reach for the phone, but Ariel holds it out of reach.
“You’re driving.”
A car behind me honks, and I realize the light is green. I put my foot on the gas, paying attention to the traffic but all the while trying fruitlessly to get a peek at Shadow’s phone.
More clicking. “Oh dear,” Ariel says. “This is definitely not good.”
“Just me?” I ask, trying to allay my panic. “Nothing about you trying to swab his DNA in the middle of a church service?”
“Nope. Just you.”
“Let me see.”
I stop at a red light and snatch for the phone. Ariel relents, and I find myself staring at a shot of me with my hand on Kelvin’s arm, his head bent over mine. We look intimate and wholly absorbed in each other, as though he’s telling me secrets.
Fabulous. My whole body is shaking by the time the light changes.
“They’re spinning it as an old romance rekindled,” Shadow says, snatching back his phone. “Including some speculation about a love triangle with that other guy. Dale. Some of Callie’s fans are tweeting that all three of you are part of a scheme to extort Ariel’s money. Oh, yeah. Here’s an interesting twist: ‘What if this Annelise person isn’t really Callie’s sister? She looks fakey to me.’ Oh, and better yet: ‘Maybe she’s an alien or something. Just saying.’” He laughs uproariously, as if this is the funniest thing ever.
I am not amused. Exhaustion seeps through every cell in my body. I just want to wrap myself in a blanket, lie down, close my eyes, and wish the world away.
“Are we done?” I ask Ariel. “Can we go home now?” The words leave an aftertaste of bitterness in my mouth. I’m not sure that home is possible anymore.
“Are you kidding me? We’re just getting started. Kelvin makes top of the dick list. Besides, I really doubt he’s the one. He doesn’t look like me at all. So, we do process of elimination. If all of the other possibles get ruled out, then we come back and harass him.”
“You’re not the one they’re turning into an alien,” I mutter.
She counters with heavy artillery. “I have five text messages from Ricken. Three of them are messages for you, reminding you that all business is at a halt until you sign contracts.”
I’d almost forgotten about Ricken. Maybe being a scheming alien impostor isn’t so bad after all. I’ll settle for the relative serenity of a hotel room, pizza delivery, and two moody teenage kids watching mindless TV.
CHAPTER SIX
Dale washes his plate and fork, rinses them, and sets both in the drainer to dry. The leftover meatloaf is reaching its end date, and he scrapes it into a bowl for his old bulldog Spike, who shuffles over, drooling, to eat with a whole lot more enthusiasm than Dale was able to muster.
He finds himself pacing, sink to table to couch to window. Over and over again. Can’t seem to settle to anything, although there’s plenty to be done. That new deck for Bob Sanders, for one thing. He needs to draw up the plans, make a list of the building materials he’ll pick up in the morning. There’s also that bid to put together for the Cooper house, although he’s not sure he wants to take that project on. Cooper has a reputation for being difficult: changing his mind about plans already under construction, micromanaging builds. He pays well, though, and Dale isn’t sure he can afford to pass up the opportunity. Time to crunch some numbers and make some decisions.
But all he can think about is Lise.
He can’t shake the way it tore up his insides to hear her cry like she did at the airport. Or the feel of her body in his arms, the scent of her hair. That kiss.
He
“What?”
“You’re on Twitter.” His thumbs move ninety miles an hour. “And Facebook.”
“This is news?”
“Let me see.” Ariel grabs the phone from him. “Oh my God. Somebody snapped you in the church.”
“Show me that.”
I reach for the phone, but Ariel holds it out of reach.
“You’re driving.”
A car behind me honks, and I realize the light is green. I put my foot on the gas, paying attention to the traffic but all the while trying fruitlessly to get a peek at Shadow’s phone.
More clicking. “Oh dear,” Ariel says. “This is definitely not good.”
“Just me?” I ask, trying to allay my panic. “Nothing about you trying to swab his DNA in the middle of a church service?”
“Nope. Just you.”
“Let me see.”
I stop at a red light and snatch for the phone. Ariel relents, and I find myself staring at a shot of me with my hand on Kelvin’s arm, his head bent over mine. We look intimate and wholly absorbed in each other, as though he’s telling me secrets.
Fabulous. My whole body is shaking by the time the light changes.
“They’re spinning it as an old romance rekindled,” Shadow says, snatching back his phone. “Including some speculation about a love triangle with that other guy. Dale. Some of Callie’s fans are tweeting that all three of you are part of a scheme to extort Ariel’s money. Oh, yeah. Here’s an interesting twist: ‘What if this Annelise person isn’t really Callie’s sister? She looks fakey to me.’ Oh, and better yet: ‘Maybe she’s an alien or something. Just saying.’” He laughs uproariously, as if this is the funniest thing ever.
I am not amused. Exhaustion seeps through every cell in my body. I just want to wrap myself in a blanket, lie down, close my eyes, and wish the world away.
“Are we done?” I ask Ariel. “Can we go home now?” The words leave an aftertaste of bitterness in my mouth. I’m not sure that home is possible anymore.
“Are you kidding me? We’re just getting started. Kelvin makes top of the dick list. Besides, I really doubt he’s the one. He doesn’t look like me at all. So, we do process of elimination. If all of the other possibles get ruled out, then we come back and harass him.”
“You’re not the one they’re turning into an alien,” I mutter.
She counters with heavy artillery. “I have five text messages from Ricken. Three of them are messages for you, reminding you that all business is at a halt until you sign contracts.”
I’d almost forgotten about Ricken. Maybe being a scheming alien impostor isn’t so bad after all. I’ll settle for the relative serenity of a hotel room, pizza delivery, and two moody teenage kids watching mindless TV.
CHAPTER SIX
Dale washes his plate and fork, rinses them, and sets both in the drainer to dry. The leftover meatloaf is reaching its end date, and he scrapes it into a bowl for his old bulldog Spike, who shuffles over, drooling, to eat with a whole lot more enthusiasm than Dale was able to muster.
He finds himself pacing, sink to table to couch to window. Over and over again. Can’t seem to settle to anything, although there’s plenty to be done. That new deck for Bob Sanders, for one thing. He needs to draw up the plans, make a list of the building materials he’ll pick up in the morning. There’s also that bid to put together for the Cooper house, although he’s not sure he wants to take that project on. Cooper has a reputation for being difficult: changing his mind about plans already under construction, micromanaging builds. He pays well, though, and Dale isn’t sure he can afford to pass up the opportunity. Time to crunch some numbers and make some decisions.
But all he can think about is Lise.
He can’t shake the way it tore up his insides to hear her cry like she did at the airport. Or the feel of her body in his arms, the scent of her hair. That kiss.
He
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