Finlay Donovan Knocks 'Em Dead by Elle Cosimano

Author:Elle Cosimano
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Publishing Group

CHAPTER 24

A single light was on in the living room when Nick dropped me off in front of my house. He idled in my driveway as I walked to my door, watching as I fumbled in my handbag for my house keys. As I slid them into the lock and turned the knob, a gas station receipt slipped from the doorframe. I bent to catch it before the wind could blow it from the porch, my steps faltering when I recognized the handwriting on the back.

I waved goodbye to Nick and ducked inside, silently slipping off my shoes and setting my handbag on the hall table when I noticed Vero sleeping on the couch. Her body was curled around a library book, the reading lamp still on beside her. I carried the note to the kitchen and held it under the night-light above the stove.

Just got back. Tried to call. Your mailbox is full. Talk tomorrow?—J

I read it again. No sorry I disappeared for a week? No had a great time but I wished you were there? What did talk tomorrow mean? If there had been a kissy emoji or a flame, maybe I’d have a better grasp of the subtext. But after being gone for a week and locking me out of his profile, talk tomorrow felt disappointingly … casual.

I reached for the house phone, my fingers hovering over the keypad. I’d never called him from my home phone before. I’d never even given him the number. My cell phone felt secure and private, only my own. Calling him from my house line felt like an invitation inside my home.

I reached to put the phone back in the cradle when I noticed the message light flashing. I held the phone to my ear, wincing at the horrid smell coming from my coat sleeve.

Finlay, it’s Sylvia. I haven’t gotten your twenty thousand words yet. They’re due by Monday, and I expect them to be fabulous. And don’t forget the hot cop.

“Fat chance of that,” I whispered. Monday was less than two days away. She would have to settle for ten thousand crappy ones. The only two men I wanted to think about right now were far from hot, and their names were Ben and Jerry. I took a spoon from the drawer and opened my freezer, head tipped curiously as I stared inside.

The food was gone, the frozen waffles, vegetable medleys, and nuggets all mysteriously absent. And worse, there was no trace of my Cherry Garcia anywhere. What had Vero done with all the food? On second thought, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

I shut the freezer and trudged to the coffee maker.

A sticky note hung from the pot. Vero had scribbled a dollar sign and the outline of a tooth. I swore quietly, set the coffee to brew, and tiptoed upstairs to the laundry closet to shed my foul-smelling clothes.

An overly sweet aroma wafted out as I slid open the door. Two heavy-duty air fresheners—the kind we used to mask the smell of Zach’s diaper pail—sat on the shelf over the machines.

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