Page 25 of The Art of Falling in Love with Your Enemy
“Is that right, Zac?” my dad pipes in. “Should we all go to dinner before…”
“No, I’m sure she’s busy.” Looking around me, I’m frantic. I want to get off this call. I don’t like lying to my parents, and I don’t want to murder Tuck over the phone. None of this is ideal at the moment, and I just want to finish my work.
Seeing the stack of papers in front of me, I do the unthinkable. I grab a few sheets, crumpling them close to the speaker of my cell, mimicking what hope sounds like static. “I…what’s…can’t…hear…you.”
There’s a brief pause, and I wonder if they’re all in the car looking at each other and questioning my sanity before my mother speaks up.
“Honey? Are you still there? Tuck, call him back. It sounds like we lost him.”
“I’m sure he’s there,” Tuck says with a Southern drawl, his accent thick today.
“I can’t believe…” I let the crumpling commence, pressing it harder into the phone. “...you…think…”
“We’ll try you when we get home, Zac,” Dad commands, probably cutting his eyes at Tuck right now, if I know him.
“Dad.” Tuck’s voice is exasperated. “I’m telling you, he’s not—”
And the line goes dead. Hallelujah.
Placing my phone down on the table, I head into the kitchen to make another pot of coffee. As I lean against the counter, waiting for it to do its thing, I start to second-guess the whole bet with Tuck. I mean, after yesterday at her place, how could I not question myself?
If someone had asked me a few weeks ago about Etta, I would have laughed and told them she’s like olive oil to my water. But today? Today, she’s the jelly that goes with my peanut butter sandwich. She’s sugar I’d like to add to my tea. She is the ham that is meant for my burger.
You get my drift.
Etta McCoy has somehow managed to reach inside me and wrap her fingers around my heart, and I don’t want her to let it go. The thing is, I’m not sure she even realizes she’s done it.
And I arrested her.
Reaching into the cabinet above the coffeemaker, I grab a fresh mug. I’m still shaking my head as I fill the mug and take a sip, setting it down slowly before I bring my palm to my forehead and smack myself. If we do go out and I’m lucky enough that we last, it’s going to be a great story:
So how did you two meet?
Well, I kinda knew her, then I arrested her…
I make my way back into the dining room, grabbing the stack of papers and heading to the couch for a change of scenery. I glance at my watch; I’ve got another hour allotted to finish this up for its submission, then I need to pack for the retreat in two days.
My heart literally skips a giant beat when I think about it. Two days at the campground working with my enemy-friend. Or is she now my friend-enemy?
Whatever she is, I’m here to figure it out.
ELEVEN
Etta
While going to the local department of motor vehicles to update my car registration surprisingly wasn’t a chore and didn’t even take that long, my stop to pick up food from the local grocer is turning out to be the exact opposite.
Mitchell, the owner of Buttar’s Grocers, and his wife, Livvy, are honestly the best ever. Their small store caters to locals and tourists alike, so they constantly like to keep new products on the shelves, rotating them so they supply what’s on trend as well as stocking all the old favorites. Thankfully, they have their finger on the pulse for food allergies, too—Livvy, who is finishing off the last of the list, holds up a few boxes of gluten-free cookies and waves them in the air for me.
“I tried these the other day. Not bad. Definitely don’t taste like cardboard.” She winks as she slides them into the box. “Now, I think we have one last box of gluten-free cinnamon-sugar graham crackers. Pretty sure I put them to the side the other day when the order came in. Let me check in the back.”
Mitchell waits for her to leave the room before he turns to me and grins, holding a finger to his mouth. “Shhh, don’t tell her, but I ate the graham crackers. And I’m not even gluten free.”
Chuckling, I grab some produce and add it to the pile in front of me. “I’m sure no one will miss them.”
My phone goes off in my bag. Thrusting my hand inside, I pull my phone out and see Amelia’s name flashing on the screen. I hold the phone up as I duck out the front door. “Be back in a minute; it’s the boss calling.”
Mitchell nods as I close the door behind me and press the phone to my ear. “Yes, boss?”
