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“And you think justice is going to come in the form of putting toilet paper all over Nan’s lawn?”
“You got it.”
“Carly.” I laugh, but it’s more out of exasperation than anything else. “I don’t think this is a good—”
“Ryan, it’s happening,” she cuts me off. “I’m doing it. So, you have two options. You’re either coming with, or you’re not.”
Fucking hell. This woman. I let my head loll back and breathe out a frustrated breath.
But when I look up again, she’s not standing right across from me.
No. Carly is hauling ass up the street and heading straight for Nan’s house.
Shit. Between the almost Fight Club session at the clubhouse, the illegal night swimming, and now this, I swear, this woman is going to end up getting herself arrested.
Yeah, and since your legs are already heading in her direction, you’ll probably end up in jail right beside her…
I look down at my quickly moving feet and groan. Yep. I am, in fact, following her. Probably straight to the depths of hell.
By the time I catch up to her, she’s standing in front of Nan’s house, directly below a streetlamp, with her arms wrapped around her toilet paper loot.
“So, uh, we’re a little out in the open here…” I state, and she looks at me with a grin.
“We’re? As in we? As in you and I are going to TP this house together?”
I scowl at her far-too-excited face. “There’s no need to look so damn happy about it, you little criminal. I’ve never broken the law before tonight, and suddenly, you’ve got me on a fucking streak.”
She giggles at that and, thankfully, gestures for me to follow her as she tiptoes over to the side of Nan’s house that’s devoid of fucking spotlights. “I can’t believe you’re doing this with me,” she whispers once we’re both hidden behind a big bush.
“It’s because you’re nothing but trouble,” I mutter, and it only makes her happier.
“God, I love this so much right now,” she continues, outright glee in her voice. “It’s like Girls Gone Wild, but the Ryan Miller version.”
“You act as if I’ve never done something like this.” I roll my eyes, and she quirks an eyebrow at me.
“Well, have you?”
“Have I TP’d a little old lady’s house before? No, Carly, I can’t say that I have.”
She snorts, and I yank the toilet paper package from her hands. “C’mon, let’s get this fucking insanity over with.”
“Oh my God!” she whisper-yells through more giggles. “You’re so mad right now!”
“Yes. I. Am,” I respond, tearing open the plastic to reveal twelve rolls of toilet paper ready and waiting to do some damage.
Carly reaches out to wrap her petite hands around my shoulders and presses a smacking kiss to my cheek. “Aw, don’t be mad, Ry. Just think of how amazing it will feel when we get to see Betty stumble upon this tomorrow.”
I can’t deny that the thought of seeing Carly see Betty find this mess in the morning makes my chest expand three sizes. There’s something about her joy that’s just so infectious it apparently holds the power to convince me to do crazy fucking things like TP a senior citizen’s yard. Or swim in the damn ocean in the middle of the night. Or bring her lunch to the pool even though I was swamped at work.
Her face is still mere inches from mine, and I have the strongest urge to lean down and kiss her. It’s so powerful, so intense, that I’m mere seconds away from following through, but she steps back and takes a roll of toilet paper from my grip before I can act on the impulse.
“You ready to do this?” she asks, and with one adorable hand to her hip, a devilish smirk appears on her lips.
“No,” I mutter, but I also laugh. “I’m not ready for this, but it looks like I’m committed, huh?”
She waggles her eyebrows. “Yes, sir. You are.”
“So, what’s the technique here? Where do we start?” I question, glancing around Nan’s lawn and trying to figure out the best plan of attack. Do we start at the front where the small palm trees sit by the front door or—
“Technique?” she repeats, pulling me from my strategizing. “Oh, sweet, innocent, little Ryan. Sweetie, the only technique in a good TP assault is to get as much of this toilet paper off these rolls and onto as many surfaces as we can as quickly as humanly possible.”
“Yes,” I agree with emphasis. “That’s what I was trying to map out.”
“There’s no map!” she insists with a laugh. “Don’t think, Ry. Just do. Do. Okay?”
And then, after snagging one more roll from my hands, she’s off to the races.
Sprinting across the lawn in a way that makes it apparent Carly Page is in phenomenal shape regardless of her lack of visits to the community gym, she lets two long streams of toilet paper fan out behind her. And she doesn’t stop until she gets to the other side of the yard.
