Page 2 of For Fox Sake

I twist around to look.

Priscilla’s gusty sigh echoes across the line. “I need some help getting them out. You know how I feel about spiders.”

“Crabs aren’t spiders.” I move the phone away from my mouth and whisper to Ari, “Who are you waving at?”

“They’re sea spiders,” Priscilla’s voice continues in my ear. “All those legs twitching about gives me the creeps. And they’re larger and scarier.”

Ari’s eyes brighten. “Can I see the crabs?”

“No.”

“What?” Priscilla asks.

“Not you. I’m with Ari. Which unit are you cleaning?” Please don’t be 2E.

“2E.”

I groan and lift a hand to my head. That’s the one right across the street from our home. “It’s booked for three weeks and check-in starts in,” I inspect my watch, “ten minutes.” Which doesn’t mean they will show up right then, but you never know.

“What do you want me to do?”

Ari tugs on my arm. “I want to see the crabs.”

I shake my head and blow out a breath. What is with today?

My period started this morning, I’ve been putting out one fire after another at the rentals, and I had the worst lunch date in the history of the known universe.

“Give me ten minutes. Take care of whatever else needs to be done until then.” I hang up, narrowing my eyes at Ari. “I’ll let you look at the crabs if you let me wash your cape.”

Her head cocks to one side, lips pursing, like we’re bargaining for her soul instead of the state of her personal hygiene. “Okay.”

“Did you want some strawberries?”

“No. Bananas.”

I guide the cart in that direction. “Who were you waving at earlier?”

“Uncle Shane.”

Fucking hell.

I immediately hunch, my eyes darting around us, like there’s a sniper hiding behind the pineapples instead of my ex-boyfriend.

It’s not like I never see him. We run into each other at least once a week.

I hate small towns.

Maybe it’s just this small town. Too many memories.

“Hey, Ryan.”

I spin around.

Shane’s dark hair is slicked back, one hand stuffed into his jeans pocket, the other holding his girlfriend’s hand.

She flicks her blond hair and smirks at me. Samantha. I barely know her, but what I do know is she’s one of those people who wields backhanded compliments like a weapon.

“Hey, Shane. Hey, Sam.”

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