Page 66 of Casita Casanova
Popcorn on the floor.
An old… I lean down to get a better look, and… yep. An old French fry.
A chewed-up pen lid. A shudder scurries down my spine.
Colorful candy of some sort, melted into the carpet.
A Starbucks napkin.
A dirty Kleenex.
I look up at the sky, breathing deeply. I know I’ve been an asshole, but have I beenthisbad? Really? Bracing myself for what might happen to me when I climb inside, I look back up at the house and catch a glimpse of that woman and her gorgeous smile.
Is she worth this kind of torture?
I mentally addcar washto my list of things to do today, then settle into the seat and close the door. There’s a hint of something sweet, like, pineapple, and something sour, like… old milk.
Sticking the key into the ignition the old fashion way—no start button in sight with this old thing—I turn the key and the van starts, but definitely does not roar to life like my Vantage.
Actually, it’s pretty anticlimactic until the air conditioner kicks on and blows Ribbit’s fur into my eyes.
Shaking my head, I pull away from the curb, turning the volume knob for the stereo until Montell Jordan fills the car, cracking me up as I drive down the street.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Maryn
After Cas drives away, I head back into the house to get ready, the smile still on my face. He had a lightness to him this morning, like something has chipped away a little at that hardened exterior.
Maybe we’re getting somewhere.
My steps falter halfway through the living room. We shouldn’t begettinganywhere.
Friendly, not friends,I remind myself.
Maybe I should tattoo it to the backs of my eyelids.
Instead, whenever I close my eyes,he’sthere. Smiling at me like he’s going to eat me alive—in all the best ways imaginable.
Yes, I’ve imagined them. Sigh.
My phone beeps with a text alert, so I hurry into the bedroom and grab it off the nightstand. It’s a text from Danielle with her ETA. I have an hour to shave and get ready for our beach day.
I’m in need of some best friend time. She may have joked about manifesting a hot renter for me, but even Danielle will agree that this attraction to him is silly and has to stop. She’ll talk some sense into me.
An hour later, I’m showered and shaved, slathered in sunscreen, and dressed in my bikini with a sheer black cover-up. The music is on and I’m dancing around the kitchen as I get our picnic basket together when something catches my eye in the backyard. My heart skips a beat and I look up, but it’s not Cas opening the door and disappearing into the casita.
That ponytail of wavy auburn hair gives her away.
My best friend, the sneak.
I open the back door and hurry down the steps, scanning the yard to make sure Cas isn’t back yet. My heart kicks into a frantic rhythm. I’d be so embarrassed if he came back and found her snooping.
Oh my gosh.That would be unacceptable.
“Danielle!” I whisper-yell as I reach the casita. Peeking my head in, I catch her red-handed. She’s sitting on the bed, about to open up his laptop.
She looks up at me with wide eyes and mock shame. “Oh no, you caught me.” She flashes a smile. “I thought you were already down at the beach.”
