Page 24 of Unexpected Heroine

With a roll of my eyes, I huff. “If I told you that already, the story wouldn’t be nearly as funny.”

His shoulders rise and fall with a silent chuckle. “Fair enough. Proceed.”

“In her video, she was devastated that no one had volunteered to help her find,” I pause for dramatic effect, “her teacup Pomeranian puppy named, you guessed it, Crouton.”

He tosses his head back in a roaring laugh. “What happened next?”

“As you’d expect, the town rallied. Within ten minutes, her house was flooded with people ready to help find the poor little guy.”

He pulses his hand around mine. “Hence the creation of the Brigade.”

“Yes. But you’ll never guess where the puppy was found.”

“Since you’re smiling, I can assume it wasn’t hit by a car.”

“Oh lawd no. That wouldn’t have made for a happy ending. What kind of monster tells a story without a happy ending?”

“Same monsters who write cliffhangers, probably.”

I nod in solidarity. “Facts. They are the worst.” Shrugging my shoulders, I wrap up the tale. “The puppy had gotten himself locked in her pantry, somehow managing to get into a few containers of food, and was passed out in a carb coma. He’s fine now.”

James dabs at his lip, looking positively adorable and happy for the first time in hours. Or days, probably.

“Lettie, the only thing that would make this story better is if the puppy ate croutons.”

“That’s the thing. He did. It was a bag of croutons. The Caesar salad ones.”

“You lie,” he scoffs. “No way.”

“If you don’t believe me, then text Stella and ask her what the puppy ate.”

With a skeptical glare, he does as I suggested. It’s a bit impressive how he does it with his nondominant hand. I assume he doesn’t want to let my hand go.

Same here.

While waiting for her reply, I eye him with a triumphant expression, already knowing the answer. A few moments later, Stella’s reply confirms that Crouton became a cannibal that day.

When our laughter dries up, my gaze falls to our joined hands. The warmth of his flesh on mine sends pulsing waves of affection to my heart, helping to further restore my soul. Between laughing together and sharing a meal, I’m starting to feel a little more like myself.

Once the moment ends, we clear the table. I attempt to help him load the dishwasher and clean the frying pan, but he takes it out of my hand and then puts me on the counter, right where I sat last night.

The way he scoops me up from the underside of my bum instead of my midsection warms my heart. He’s being so cautious with me, taking care not to aggravate my already sore body.

He refills my juice, adding ice cubes the way I like it.

“We need to get you some things from your place today, right?”

I swallow the tangy OJ. “Yeah.”

“I’ll text Freya to let her know we’re coming.”

My heart pinches, and my stomach bottoms out. Poor thing is probably a bottle of nerves. I know I’d be a wreck if the tables were turned.

“We can swing by the strip mall around the corner from your place to get a new phone. Or I could order one online and have it activated remotely.”

I chew on the inside of my mouth, contemplating whether I’m ready to go in public, ultimately landing on I think the fuck not.

“Let’s do it online. Can you lend me the money? I don’t know where my purse or wallet is.”

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