Page 23 of My Hotshot

Knock knock.

“Hello?” a man called through the door.

I stared, with my chest rising and falling like I’d just sprinted a mile. That voice… that was—

“Duane?” I called, my voice breaking mid-word.

“It’s Dice, Lainey,” he said in that calm, half-bored tone I remembered from high school. Always cool, always composed, like nothing ever rattled him.

But then I heard it—a muffled voice followed by a soft laugh.

Another knock.

Panic and wine made a wild cocktail. I spun in a circle like maybe if I just kept moving, I’d suddenly locate my phone and a plan.

“Can you open the door?” Duane called.

“Why?” I snapped and crossed my arms over my chest even though he couldn’t see me.

“Because I don’t think you want your new neighbors to see two bikers standing at your front door yelling at you.”

Well. Shit.

That probably wouldn’t go over well. I’d only lived here a month, and I already got suspicious looks from the woman across the street.

With a dramatic sigh, I padded over to the door. My bare feet slapped against the laminate floor as I reached out and unlocked it.

Just as I started to swing the door open—

Beep.

“Stop!” I screamed and turned my back on the door so fast I nearly tripped over my own feet. “Where is it?” I whispered and scanned the room like it held the answers to the universe.

“Pretty sure she’s not gonna try to kill you,” a voice I didn’t recognize said with amusement.

“Where is what?” Duane asked and stepped inside behind me.

“My phone,” I whispered, not turning around. “It disappeared. Ihadit. Iusedit. And then poof.”

I could feel them move into the house behind me, the subtle shift in air and the click of the door shutting sealing the moment. I was no longer alone.

“Where was the last place you had it?” the man I didn’t know asked.

“If I knew that, I wouldn’t be looking for it,” I muttered and dragged my hands down my face.

“Maybe we can help you find it,” Duane offered gently.

I turned to face him with my cheeks flushed from wine and frustration. “I’ve looked. I can’t find it.”

“Obviously.” The other man wandered into the kitchen, picked up the empty wine bottle, and studied it. “Dani would be impressed.”

“Who are you?” I asked, suddenly aware that I was standing in front of two men in an oversized T-shirt that hit me mid-thigh and my legs on full display. Maybe the wine had made me brave. Or just stupid.

“I’m Smoke,” he said with a smile. “Friend of Dice’s.” His grin widened. “Or Duane, to you.”

I nodded slowly, eyes narrowing. “Who’s Dani?”

“My ol’ lady. She’s into wine and cheese. Owns the fancy shop on the other side of town.”

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