I didn't resent Lexie for the change in my plans, but Ididresent the fact that she was obviously hiding things – and even worse, consorting with a monster.
This wasn't the only thing I found unsettling. It was the fact that while I wasn't looking, Bryce had left a hundred-dollar bill on the coffee counter, weighing it down with the napkin dispenser, so it wouldn’t blow away.
Along with the cash, he'd left a scribbled street address, written in bold blue ink on the back of a fast food receipt. The address was somewhere on Market Street, and I was pretty sure I knew where. Unless I was terribly mistaken, ithadto be on the other side of my fence.
Andthat, apparently, was where I would be delivering the dozen mochas.
It was all too crafty by half.
Plus, once again, his tip was way too big, unless – maybe he expected change?
Yes, I decided.Hedidexpect it. Or even if he didn't, I would definitely give it to him along with all twelve mochas, which I would absolutely, positively make sure he didn't leave for me.
Or I'd return the money.
My thoughts churned like this for nearly two hours before headlights out front pulled me out of my stupor, and I sat up straighter on the couch.Lexie – it had to be.
But it wasn't.
It was Gwen, returning from her tutoring job – or so I thought until she sat down across from me and started talking. With an excited smile, she said, "You're not gonna believe this."
I wassorelieved to see her smiling. Earlier today, things had gotten way too tense, and I felt bad about it, but not so bad that I had regrets – not if it saved Gwen some heartache in the long run.
Still, I tried for a smile of my own. "Believe what?"
"Well, first of all, you know Drake? The guy who was here earlier?" She leaned forward. "I know for sure that Tango isn't his."
My smile faded.Damn it.I still hadn't heard back from my aunt, probably due to the time difference. But I justknewthat when she finallydidreply, she would be telling me that Tango's owner was a big blond guy with a habit of lurking.
Still, I was determined to be civil. After all, it wasn't Gwen's fault that the guy was a jackass. In a carefully neutral tone, I said, "Oh, yeah?"
Gwen nodded. "Yeah, Tango belongs to his grandfather, just like he said."
Likely story."Is that so?"
"Yeah, and get this. I stopped over there—"
"You what?"
She blinked. "I, um, I stopped by their house."
"Theirhouse?"
"Yeah, him and his grandpa."
Well, this just got better and better.The way it sounded, this Drake guy was mooching off his grandfather – and doing it way too close for comfort. "So you know where they live?"
"Yeah, they live in the neighborhood. He helped me carry back the kittens, remember?"
Of course, I remembered. But at the time, I'd figured the so-called helper was a generic nice neighbor, not a foul fiend who made Aunt Celia cry – oralmostcry.
Still, I listened with as much patience as I could muster as Gwen told me how the big blond guy – Drake as he called himself – had purchased a replacement wheel for the heated stroller.
And yet, I saw no wheel.When Gwen mentioned the wheelagain, I asked, "So whereisit?"
Her eyebrows furrowed. "You mean the replacement wheel? I don't have it. He does."
Of course he does."But you just said he gave it to you."
