Beauty and the Baller

“Deal.”

She’s a bundle of energy as we sweep through the house, tossing linens and my duvet in the washer. She’s wiping down my bedroom while I vacuum, humming “Jolene” under my breath. I finish and flip it off. When I turn, she is behind me and pulls her phone out and takes a pic. “‘Coach Cleans after Lice Scare at Blue Belle.’ This will go viral on social. Gives you a real homespun appeal.”

“You better not.” I walk over to her and reach for her phone, but she tucks it behind her back and twirls away from me, laughing.

“You didn’t know it, but I snuck some pics of you with the plastic cap on your head.”

I hated that cap! “You didn’t!”

“I did, and I’m going to tag the Huddersfield coach. He’ll love it,” she calls as she runs out of the room.

I chase her down the stairs as she hits the bottom, turns the corner, and disappears.

“I’m going to find you,” I sing out. “And when I do . . .”

I check the extra bedroom downstairs, looking under the bed and in the closet. I move to the bathroom and rip back the shower curtain.

I stalk to the den and circle the perimeter. Dog barks from the sofa, then jumps down and trots to my office door. I pet him. “You’ve got some use after all.”

I ease the door open and step inside. The place is spotless from when we both cleaned earlier.

I check under my desk, then the shadowy corners behind the recliners. I half expect her to jump scare me.

There’s a crash from the kitchen, and I run out, bumping into Dog. I glare at him. “You’re helping her? That’s it. We’re over, Dog.” I slide past him and run my gaze over the kitchen. Nothing looks out of place, so what fell? I do a systematic patrol, then check the cabinets under the sink, then laugh under my breath. Where is she?

Dog trots to the pantry door and sits. I narrow my eyes at him. “This better not be another one of your lies.”

He sneezes, throwing slobber everywhere.

I move him out of the way, then fling the door open. It’s a big pantry, lined with shelves on either side. Lois organized it—canned goods in order on the left, dry goods on the right.

Nova reclines on the back wall, not a flicker of surprise on her face as she munches on a vanilla wafer.

“Found you,” I growl.

She pops another one in her mouth and chews. “Took you long enough, jock. These are so good. My mama used to use them to make the best banana pudding. I think I want to try her recipe.”

I plop down next to her, and she hands me the box.

“How many can you get in your mouth at once?” she asks. “I did three. Nearly choked. That’s when the can of peas fell. I guess you heard it?”

I pop an eyebrow. “Yep. Let’s see. I bet I can get five. You on?”

“Stakes?”

“A boon.”

Her full lips curl up. “You’re on. You have to eat them all at once.” She hands over a water bottle. “You’ll need this, which I stole from your amazing pantry. You could throw a small party in here.”

“I’d call my pantry . . . lavish.”

She snorts.

“Let’s do this.” I take her water and twist off the top.

She hands me five, and I open my mouth and cram three in, then four, then five. My cheeks puff out, and she giggles as I tilt my head and chew and chew and chew.

“I’m here if you need the Heimlich,” she says.

I swallow and guzzle the water. I stick my tongue out, and she claps.

“I’m a badass,” I say.

Her eyes roll. “God, you’re so easy. I knew you’d get five. Don’t be so arrogant.”

“So you just wanted to see me make a fool of myself?”

“I should have asked you to put a bra on first.”

“When is everyone going to forget that?”

“Never ever, ever, ever.”

I toss an arm around her shoulders, and she leans against me. A feeling of contentment rises as the moments tick past. “I’m ready for my boon.”

“What is it?” She gazes up at me.

“You never told me your secret the night of the dart game.”

Her chin gets a defiant tilt, one I’ve come to recognize. “That was an emergency—my foot hurt, and then I saved your ass from the sheriff—so that boon is null and void. You can’t repeat it.”

“Look at you. Getting all territorial over one little secret. You must have hundreds. I don’t see what the big deal is . . .” I grin.

“Technically, I told you about accidentally stealing Ryan Reynolds’s toilet thingy. No one knows that.”

“Accidentally, right.”

She rolls her eyes.

“You didn’t even tell your old roommate?”

“No.” She winces. “What if it’s worth money, like it’s fourteen-karat gold? What if it was a family heirloom? What if—”