An escape room. Is an actual room people pay to be locked into. For fun.
I did not see that coming, it was the last thing I expected her to choose, and I absolutely want to escape it.
Austen nudges me and I realize I’ve been staring at a painting of Benjamin Franklin playing some instrument made of glass bowls while I had my silent nervous breakdown.
“Do you see a clue or are you avoiding us?” she asks.
That second thing.
“Well…” I scramble to explain my reasons for impersonating a statue. “We’re supposed to be figuring out some code Franklin created to hide the location of his secret weapon against the British right? To win the war?”
She leans against me with a soft laugh. “Yes. But I don’t think he won anything with his glass armonica. It might have been his favorite but it never really took off. I suppose it could be used as a weapon, though. Especially if the British had unusually sensitive eardrums.”
I give her some side eye. “Know-it-all, Sherlock.”
“Daughter of a professor, my dear Watson. We own a lot of books on good old Ben.”
She gestures furtively behind me and I glance over my shoulder. Royal and Brendan are on the opposite side of the room, arguing quietly over a cypher for a combination lock as if the safety of the country is at stake.
Which is the basic gist of this scenario, and I almost feel unpatriotic for not helping. It’s just…odd. They look like they’re having a blast.
“Something happened between you two, didn’t it?” she whispers, reaching out to feel the edges of the picture frame for clues while she’s talking, because she’s a badass multi-tasker who wants to kick some Redcoat tail.
“Stop doing that,” I hiss back, picking up a book at random and leafing through the pages.
“Doing what?”
“Reading my mind.”
“So I’m right?” she asks with innocent delight.
“You know you are. But I still don’t know what it means or what to do about it.”
That’s the only puzzle I’m desperate to solve.
Brendan Kinkaid is straight. I’ve seen him with women. A lot of women. And I’ve heard stories of his and Royal’s conquests for years, whether I wanted to or not.
I also know he has never, in all the time I’ve known him, kissed me or touched me or said anything that would lead me to believe he was bi until this weekend.
Trouble at work and losing his condo could explain some of his strange behavior, but not all of it.
“This is how it’s going to be when I fuck you.”
I think I’m just having a hard time believing this is real.
“Royal thinks he’s into you.”
A piece of paper flutters to the floor and we both kneel down to pick it up while continuing our hushed conversation. “Royal is crazy. I’m glad you found out now before I get an invitation to the wedding.”
She blushes and I forget about my own problems long enough to tease her. “I take it this setup is working out for you?”
She gives me a short but vehement nod in answer. “And he’s wearing shorts, Miller. It’s like he knows that sexy calves are my weakness.”
I almost burst out laughing, but manage to restrain myself. “He didn’t hear it from me.”
Maybe Royal’s a witch too.
“They’re just so damn defined.” She fans herself and throws me a wink. “And he’s funny. You never see a hot-and-funny combo anymore. Not Irish, but I can definitely work with that.”
I look at the paper and frown. “I think this might be important.”
“You and Brendan are what’s really import— Wait, let me see that.” She snatches it out of my hands and gets to her feet.
“Lost time is never found again,” she reads out loud, her voice raised for Royal and Brendan to hear. “I think that’s from Poor Richard’s Almanack.”
Royal, who’s managed to open up the locked box while we were talking about his calves, holds up a timepiece that’s dangling from a chain. “I found it.”
“I almost found it,” Brendan said defensively, but he was smiling, clearly enjoying himself. “I definitely solved the key puzzle that got us the cypher. And it’s a good thing Diane wasn’t here or we’d still be on that crossword.”
“Hey.” I feel the need to defend my neighbor, despite the fact that she really is just pathetically bad at crossword puzzles.
“Yes, you’ve solved everything, brother.” Royal rolls his eyes in our direction as he soothes Brendan’s ego. “We’ll buy you a trophy once our sixty minutes are up.”
I hang back as the trio gathers around the watch, turning it over and studying every knob and design etched on the gold casing in search of the next clue.
I don’t trust myself that close to Brendan yet.
Don’t judge me.
“This reminds me of that Nicholas Cage movie,” Brendan says in hushed excitement.
“Gone in Sixty Seconds?” Royal asks absently, running his fingers over the face.