Page 40 of The Oscar Escape
He raised an eyebrow.
That man!
“I had some bad lobster,” she added,going with it.
Mr. Alden stopped dead in his tracks. “In Maine?” he demanded, giving off as much warmth as a block of ice.
“No, sir,” she eked out. “In Massachusetts. In Boston.”
His expression thawed a few degrees. “There was your mistake, Mrs. Elliott,” he said, then continued down the path. “Mainelob-stahis the bestlob-stahin the country. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“How are the lobster underwear working out?” the man asked as if he were inquiring about the weather.
What the hell?
She stole a look at Oscar, who appeared to be losing a battle at biting back a grin.
And now Awkwardsville had a population of three.
“My underwear?” she sputtered.
“Your husband said your luggage was lost. Etta rounded up what she could for you, then snagged some undergarments from the gift shop. Twenty-five years ago, we could barely keep ’em in stock. As an old lobsterman, I have a real appreciation for them.”
“Underwear?” she exclaimed.
The man looked at her like she’d lost her mind—which was a real possibility. “Lobsters,” he corrected. “Who appreciates underwear? Underwear is underwear.”
“Yeah . . . sure . . . exactly.” She could feel her cheeks heat. Forget Awkwardsville. She’d landed at Mortification Station.
Del opened a back door to the inn. “This way. We’ll cut through the kitchen.”
She nudged Oscar as Del walked ahead of them. “What’s happening? Why are we back at the inn?”
“I don’t know,” he said under his breath. “But whatever happens next, I need you to fight every impulse to act like yourself. Be polite to these people—and especially to the judge. I didn’t even know Havenmatch had a judge.”
She tossed a few eye daggers his way. “Do you think I don’t know how to act before a judge? I met the Spanish royal family when I performed in Barcelona, and I was beyond charming. I can handle a judge. And why would you know if this place had a judge? I didn’t even know this place existed until I saw its name written across my panties.”
“Just promise me you’ll nod and smile. You were out of your mind last night and caused one hell of a ruckus. You can’t draw more attention to yourself.”
The breath caught in her throat. She could be in real permanent-record trouble. “I didn’t get arrested, did I? I’d be in jail if I did.”
“Nothing happened officially. But I don’t know how it works here. I’ve never gotten arrested on an island off the coast of Maine.”
She eyed their guide. She might as well ask. “Mr. Alden?” she called. Despite being an older gentleman, the man could move and had gotten a good fifteen feet ahead of them.
“Yes, Mrs. Elliott?”
“I thought we were meeting with a judge.”
“You are.”
“But we’re at the inn.”
“You’ve got a sharp onehe-ah, Os-cah,” the man grated with an even sharper edge to his voice.
Yep, she was not this man’s favorite person by a long shot.
