“Not a clue.” He just shrugs. “Though, Mrs. Dickens was pretty shocked with just how much ground the toilet-paper tosser managed to cover. No way it could’ve been anyone with a hip replacement, knee replacement, or heart problems.”
“So, like, seventy-five percent of Sunny Creek residents are out,” my mother comments, and he nods.
“Pretty much. And while I hate to be the bearer of bad news, darlin’, we can’t go see it.”
“What? Why the heck not?”
“Because somewhere between the time Mrs. Dickens saw it when she took out that little dog of hers at one this morning and when she got back up again at five, someone had already managed to clean it all up.”
“But Nan doesn’t get up that early. Hell, even Betty doesn’t usually get up before seven.”
“Tell me about it.” Sal nods in agreement. “The whole thing reeks of an inside job. The fact that it was Betty’s best friend’s house and it occurred on the night before trash day and it’s already been cleaned up? You can’t convince me those are just coincidences.”
Goodness, what are they, CSI investigators?
Any second, they’re going to get Grissom and Willows on the case and start testing forensics and trying to find toilet paper remnants on Nan’s lawn.
Sheesh.
I choose this very moment to grab my phone out of my purse and act like I’m checking very important emails. Of which I have none. I mean, Brody’s emails are important, but not ignore-lunch important, you know?
What I’m actually doing is sending Ryan a text.
Me: I think we’ve been found out…
Although, I have a feeling it’ll be a while before he can actually read my message.
Early this morning, Ryan had mentioned how much work he had to get done today, so I picked up Sal on our way to lunch to give Ryan a little peace and quiet.
“But who could’ve managed such a thing,” my mother remarks and, eventually, moves her eyes to me. I don’t actually see her do it, because yeah, I’m still staring at my phone, but I can feel the weight of her gaze when it latches on to me. “What do you think, Carly?”
“Hmm?” I question and make a show of pulling my eyes away from the screen in my hands. “What do I think about what?”
“Who do you think hit Nan’s house last night?”
“Huh?” I inquire, making a point to play dumb. “What are you talking about?”
“Someone trashed Nan’s house with toilet paper.”
“For real? That’s pretty wild.”
“Yeah.” My mom narrows her gaze. “And by the looks of it, it wasn’t someone with any major preexisting medical conditions…”
She’s onto me. That much I know. But there’s no way I’m going to let her in on Ryan’s and my big TP secret. I could never add to Ryan’s guilt like that. I’d prefer not to make the man whose tongue is a gift from heaven above and whose penis can find my G-spot upset with me. Not when more orgasms are still within the realm of possibility.
“No preexisting medical conditions?” I repeat. “But, Mom, everyone in Sunny Creek is over sixty-five. The odds of someone not having some kind of medical condition are pretty slim, wouldn’t you say?”
“Precisely my thoughts,” she says, skeptical as hell. But thankfully, at just the right moment, a nice friendly server decides to step up to the table and take our orders.
Sal orders not one but two hamburgers, fries, soup, and an iced tea.
Stella chooses her usual grilled chicken Caesar salad and lemonade.
And I go with the BLT, fries, and a Coke.
The server whose name tag reads Devon smiles as he quickly writes down all of our orders, but just before he can leave the table, a familiar voice grabs his attention.
“Can I put in my order before you go? I’m going to be joining them for lunch, too.”
I look up to find Ryan closing the distance to our table, and my vagina instantly grabs her pom-poms and starts cheering like he’s going to stick his penis between the goalposts right here in the dining room of the clubhouse.
“Of course,” Devon agrees with a friendly smile, and Ryan quickly tells him he’d like to have a hamburger and fries.
Once Devon has his notepad and pen back in the pocket of his apron, he leaves the table to put in our orders.
Ryan sits down across from me, right beside his dad, and it takes every inch of willpower I have not to do something crazy like crawl across the surface of the table and kiss his handsome face.
Because, damn, he looks good.
But I’m starting to find he always looks good. Suit and tie, jeans and a T-shirt, naked, Ryan Miller is a total babe.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Sal questions. Ryan just shrugs.
“Had a little time between conference calls and figured I’d join you guys for lunch.”