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A glitter of interest darkens her eyes as she cocks her head. “Moonshine? Seriously? You’d think the police might want to do something about that.”
“Lotta woods out here, New York.” I laugh. “Not that hard to lose a person—or a whole distillery. Usually, we don’t bother the Jacobins and the Jacobins don’t bother us. It works. But right now, I gotta go wrangle their frigging hogs before they plow my guys into the ground.”
“Well then.” There’s something so tempting about the teasing curve of her lips as she stretches up on her toes and drops down again, swaying as she laces her hands behind her back. “Thanks again for today. I mean it. Now go have fun with your pigs. I bet they’re shaking in terror.”
I’d rather stay here.
That feeling punches me hard in the gut, and there’s not a damned thing I can do about it.
“See? Miss Janelle told you I’m not the big bad wolf.” I raise a hand, waving as I head back to my car with my toolbox under my arm and a cardboard box I’d stolen dangling from my fingers, filled with wood scraps. “You call me if you need anything else, Miss Lilah. Anything at all.”
9
Red Sky At Night (Delilah)
I think I may have busted a rib.
Because yesterday I’ve never laughed so hard in my life.
After Lucas left, I finished unpacking a few more boxes before calling it quits for the day and headed out to run some errands, picking up odds and ends I needed for furniture and wall mountings.
When I heard sirens as soon as I stepped out of the hardware store, for half a second, I was worried. It sounded like multiple cop cars, and I wondered if the noise was announcing another body found.
But I shouldn’t have worried.
Two seconds later, two patrol cars went ripping down the street, packed to the brim with—
Hogs?
Yep.
The ginormous pigs in the back seat raised total hell, squealing louder than the sirens, throwing themselves around like they were trying to have a stampede in the cramped space.
I didn’t recognize the two men in the front seat of the first car, one white-blond-haired and pale, the other a gruff-looking older man with a forbidding—and very irritated—scowl.
But I definitely caught Lucas behind the wheel of the other vehicle.
His car almost tilted while he fought to keep it steady, his strong hands fused to the steering wheel behind his stone-faced expression.
The pig behind him nosing at the back of his head didn’t faze him one bit, rooting around like it was hunting for truffles in his thick black hair.
Another giant hog practically plopped its butt on the head of the other guy in the passenger seat, twisting its curly tail into his long brown hair.
I just stared in stunned silence, watching as Lucas sped through traffic.
A second later, I almost hit the ground.
Laughing so hard I had to set my bag down and touch the sidewalk, clutching my sides, howling so loud I’m sure I risked a few bystanders wondering if the new teacher’s all right upstairs.
No, she’s not.
Not when Lucas flipping Graves is such a magnificent dork.
He’s a dangerously cute one, too.
God, I need to get him out of my head.
Once I got myself together, I headed back home.
At least I didn’t attract much of an audience.
I guess the ‘pink problem’ is so common hardly anyone else in this little town bats an eye at pigs losing their shit in squad cars. I hope they understand why a newcomer might think it’s the funniest thing in ages.
I was still grinning by the time I went to bed.
Sleep came so much easier with that alarm armed and protecting me. That extra little bit of security feels nice.
It almost makes me feel like Lucas is still here, watching over me, even when he’s not.
I wish I was still laughing this morning, but real life isn’t so funny.
Especially not when I’m calculating what’s left in my bank account and how much I’ve spent of the moving stipend the town paid me, and how much more I can stretch from now until I get my first official paycheck.
It’s just enough for one more big shopping trip.
Later that evening, I’ve got an overflowing cartload of school supplies.
Nora shops along next to me as we prowl the aisle of Redhaven’s lonely superstore that looks entirely out of place, faring no better than me.
I’ve loaded up on coloring books and water-soluble markers—no angry parents over ruined clothes here—and crayons and puzzles and activity books. She’s stocking up on raw materials like poster board and glue. She loves to make these big colorful boards to help keep her rambunctious preteens occupied.
“You know what still gets me after all these years?” she says, wrestling her cart for a few seconds just to keep it moving on one loose, squeaky wheel. “Every year the town council holds a big donation drive for school expenses. I know for a fact the Arrendells toss in five figures, plus a few other families around here with money to burn.” She snorts and tosses a pack of multicolored star stickers into her cart, pauses, then narrows her eyes and sweeps the entire rack of stickers into her cart. “So, how is it every year I spend all my money on this stuff? Where does it all go?”
