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“But, we just saw it at lunch,” Nate protested. “So, if she accepted it, she must have just done it.”
“Shit,” Declan rubbed his hands over his face. By now, she could have downloaded his entire friend list. Every photo, every post. Thank God he didn’t put personal shit on there.
“Calm down.” Bridget held up a finger. “She’s not in your friend list. And I just scrolled through all of your notifications and she didn’t accept your request. In fact…” She peered up at him. “I just searched for her, and unless she’s a bright pink haired mother in Idaho, I think she blocked you.”
“What?” Declan moved around the counter, getting to a place where he could see the screen. From the couch, Nate barked out a laugh.
“I’m serious.” She reached for her own phone and pulled up Facebook, tapping and scrolling around the app. “Look.” She turned her screen to him, Autumn’s smile familiar, the same image as last night. “When I search for her, she comes right up. But when I do it from your account, nothing.” She smirked at him. “Without a doubt, you’re blocked. Creepy ass.”
“I’m blocked?” He repeated. “That’s bullshit. I’m not the creepy one. She’s the stalker—”
“Ha. Bridget called you a creepy ass.” Nate settled into the red couch, his feet kicking up and resting on a stack of magazines on Bridget’s glass coffee table.
Declan felt his irritation return. “Right. Says the guy who invited her to be my friend.” He turned back to Bridget. “So, what do I do? Can I block her back?”
She set down her phone and lifted the two-liter of soda back up, her attention returning to her drink. “I don’t think you can block someone you can’t view. Just…” she shrugged. “Leave her alone.”
“Leave her alone?” This was fucking ridiculous. Nate was laughing at him, Bridget was acting as if he was the stalker and Autumn—the stealer of trash, watcher of lunches, screamer of ridiculous things in the middle of the street—she was blocking HIM. “I’d love to leave her alone. I’d love to never see her face again.”
“Right.” Bridget capped the bottle and placed it back in the fridge. “Because you think she’s stalking you.”
He didn’t even bother with a response. He grabbed his phone and pushed away from the counter. “I’ve got to get home. Nate?” He needed to be alone, away from his phone and Bridget and Nate’s amusement with this entire situation. He needed to get in the gym, to sweat and push his body, to think about something else, anything else, other than her.
He shoved open the front door and jogged down the steps, moving toward the Jeep and wanting to kill someone.
12
My phone rang in my hand, startling me. I looked down, breathing a sigh of relief at the veterinarian’s phone number. Twenty-four hours had passed since the rhubarb incident, but I still hadn’t been cleared to pick up Mr. Oinks. “Hello?”
“Mrs. Jones, this is Adam Diablo, the veterinarian for Mr. Oinks.”
“Yes. It’s Miss. Not Mrs. I’m not married. Single, actually.” Why was I telling him this? Mr. Oinks could be dying, his chest seizing, legs flopping, eyes wide, and I’m yammering on about my dating status like a crazy person.
“I understand. Ms. Jones, I just wanted to let you know that Mr. Oinks has made it through with flying colors. He’s sleeping now. Lots of flatulence, but I believe you said that that was normal?”
I laughed. “Yes, it is. Can I come and get him?”
“He’s ready, whenever you are.”
I smiled. “Awesome. And thanks for having the nurses call me last night with updates. That was really kind.” I caught the curious look that Ansley gave me and turned away, busying myself with reorganizing the cookbooks on her counter.
The vet spent a few minutes going over medicine I needed to pick up and Mr. Oinks’ dietary restrictions for the next few days. I nodded, scribbling down a few notes in the margin of a piece of Ansley’s junk mail. “Great. And again, thank you.”
“No problem, Ms. Jones.”
“It’s Autumn. Please.”
“Okay. I’ll see you when you come in to pick him up.”
I was smiling when I hung up the phone. Ansley watched me as she tied off the second braid. “Who was that?”
“The vet. He said Mr. Oinks is going to survive your terrible pie.”
“Ah. Lots of giggling over my pie.” She patted Paige on the back. “Go get your brother and tell him we’re ready to go.”
I sat down on the closest stool and watched as Paige tore by and up the stairs. “He may be slightly good-looking.”
“Interesting.” She raised a brow. “And I assume he finds you slightly good looking?”
I lifted both palms upward in a duh fashion. “Well, obviously.”
She smiled, coming to sit beside me. “I’m sorry about the pie.”
“You didn’t know.”
She sighed. “It’s just … you don’t have anything in your life except for us and Mr. Oinks. If something had happened to him, I never would have forgiven myself.” She reached out and grabbed my hand. “You know that I act like I don’t like him, but I want you to know, if something ever happened to you, he would always have a place…” her voice broke and she sniffed, holding up a hand to stop me from talking. “He would always have a place at the local animal shelter. I already called and they said they take pigs, as long as he isn’t over fifty pounds. So it’s going to be really important for you to keep him under that weight.”
