Page 70 of I Knew He Was Trouble
His mouth falls open. “A—A goat?” He rubs the back of his neck. “Do I even want to know how that happened?”
My face heats. “It’s a story for another day. But know that if you ever meet a goat named Snowball…just run.”
“Noted.” He laughs. Tyler picks up Evie and hugs her. “I guess we should figure out what we’re doing for dinner.”
“Ms. Kelsey got us Chipotle.”
I grab the brown bag from the car and lock the doors. “Here.” I pull out my bowl and chips, handing him the rest of the bag.
He pulls out his wallet. “How much do I—”
“Don’t worry about it.” I reach up and squeeze Evie’s arm. “I had fun today. I’ll see you next week.”
She giggles. “Me too.”
I walk toward my house, ready to put on some real pants.
When I reach my porch, I hear Evie ask Tyler, “Uncle Ty, why are all animals naked?”
I press my lips together to suppress my laughter. This day just got even better.
The following day, I drive to pick up a breakfast burrito since I’m too lazy to make breakfast on a Saturday morning.
I’m jamming to my current favorite Taylor Swift song on the way home when I hear a weird chirping noise.
What the heck?
I turn my car speakers down and listen closely for a few minutes, but I don’t hear it again. “I’m going crazy,” I mutter.
Cranking the volume back up, I get back to my car solo. It’s a sold-out show. Crowd of one.
The next song in the album starts to play, and I hear the random chirping again. I turn down the music and scratch my head. Maybe a cricket jumped into my car to escape the cooling temperatures yesterday when Evie and I went to the zoo.
When I get home, I eat my breakfast burrito and make a maple latte. Once I’ve finished, I return to my car with a cordless vacuum, ready to find whatever chirping thing is hiding in my car.
I search forhours. I move the car seats all the way up and back, grimacing at the number of crumbs, coins, and other odd objects I find underneath them. I vacuum under the seats, but there’s still no cricket in sight.
I remove everything from the glove box and center console, again cleaning out a lot of random things as I go, but still not finding whatever insect is making all the noise in my car. The chirping happens multiple times as I clean, so I know I’m not going crazy. But the little dude is good at playing hide-and-seek.
With a shudder, I even check in the zone where things go to be lost forever—my trunk. I pull out an array of items from a first aid kit to dirty towels used to wipe off muddy dog paws, and my favorite sweater that I’ve been missing since last winter. When I can finally see the bottom of the trunk again, I vacuum, but I still can’t find the source of the sound.
The only other place I can think to look is the pocket on the back of my passenger seat, so I climb into the car and send up a prayer for whatever my fingers might come into contact with. The first thing to hit my hand is cold metal, and I yank my fingers out. Carefully, I reach back in and pull out a little metal strip that can’t be bigger than two inches. I flip it over and see anon/off switch. I turn it off and then back on, and I immediately hear the chirp sound again.
That little—
I stalk over to Tyler’s front door and pound on it. “Tyler!” When he doesn’t answer, I knock even louder. “Your car is here; I know you’re in there.”
He opens the door, and I shove the little device straight into Tyler’s chest.
His verybarechest.
My eyes trail down of their own accord, stopping to peer at his six—no, eight—pack. It’s unfair how good he looks. A crime against society that anyone can wake up looking this good. Though, I suppose he works out every morning and eats super healthy. But I’d much rather eat cookies than have abs.
Under my fingertips, I feel every contour of his muscles and his racing heart.
No.
We’re mad at Tyler.
