None of that made sense. “Cheese? For…Zef?”
Jack laughed, a nice, warm laugh that made her feel like she’d just successfully told a joke, even though she’d merely been confused. “The guest in room twelve likes cheese. And vegetables. But mostly cheese.”
“I like cheese.” She winced at herself.Why am I incapable of holding a normal conversation with a good-looking guy? Is it maybe because I’m trying to be friendly while stuck in a hole?“All except blue cheese.”
“Never understood blue cheese,” Jack agreed.
“The blue spots are supposed to be edible, but I can’t get past the fact that they’re mold.” Why was she talking about mold? She did not want to be talking about mold. She wanted to be out of this hole. “I like cheddar. And goat cheese, the soft kind that you can spread. It’s really good with fig jam.”
“I especially like cheesecake.”
“Everyone likes cheesecake.”
“Except the lactose intolerant,” Jack said.
“Mm-hmm, it’s probably a cruel joke to them,” Calisa said. “Cake but not.”
Jack frowned. “You’re right. In that case, we shouldn’t serveit.”
“Unless you use cream cheese with lactase.”
“You can do that?”
She knew it existed, but she’d never baked with it before. “I made a regular cheesecake last year. Trick is you have to cool it gradually, or it cracks. Probably same process.” Oh God, why was she still having this conversation?If the universe expectsme to swoon into his arms after he rescues me as some kind of cosmic apology for last month…Nope, not going to happen.She didnotwant to have to be grateful to him.
“I had a slice of white chocolate raspberry cheesecake once,” he said dreamily. “Fresh raspberries are the best.”
“Blueberries are better,” Calisa said.
“You clearly have never eaten a raspberry straight off the bush.”
She hadn’t, but that wasn’t exactly her greatest concern right now. Calisa squirmed, trying to angle her arms better to lever herself out of the hole. “I’m sure it’s delicious.” She failed again and heaved a sigh.
With the careful tone of someone who isn’t sure whether he’s being rude or not, Jack asked, “Are you an invited guest? I mean, you said you’re Auntie Zee’s grandniece, but…she didn’t mention you. Are you supposed to be here? Did she know you were coming?”
“She should,” Calisa said. “My moms talked to her.”
“Ah…” He looked relieved. Tentatively, he asked, “Are you okay?”
No.“Yes. But I think I’m stuck.” Wait, did he think she was dangling halfway through the porch on purpose? Did he not see she very obviously needed help?
“Hmm,” he said, examining the break in the porch as if it were a feature of the architecture, not an unintentional disaster. “Let me just return Zef to room eight, and I’ll be back to rescue you. And then you should talk to Auntie Zee. She’s the boss of everything that happens here.”
Before she could ask for helpnow,not after he finishedhis chores, Jack—the polite and handsome but ultimately unhelpful groundskeeper’s son—had already disappeared inside. Calisa muttered to herself, “Okay, so definitelynota meet-cute.” That was just awkward. What was with the are-you-supposed-to-be-here questions? It was an inn. Even if she wasn’t invited, shouldn’t they get people popping up unexpectedly all the time?
“Whatever.” She had zero desire to be rescued anyway.
And even less desire to wait around to be rescued.
Climbing out wasn’t going to work, though. She looked across the porch and out at the yard, but all she saw was the statue of the lady, with one hand outstretched, in between the weeds. “Thanks, but I don’t think you can help,” Calisa said.
She tried one more time to propel herself out. It failed again.
What about if she went down instead of up? Could she crawl out from beneath the porch? That wasn’t a bad idea. Calisa ducked down easily, her backpack coming with her a second later and then thumping onto her back. It was dark beneath the porch, as well as damp, but she could see light to her left. Squatting, she waddled toward it.
Up ahead, she heard murmuring.
Shivers danced up her spine, and she stopped. “Hello?”
