Page 61 of Holiday Romance
“He’s obviously joking,” I say, but Andrew doesn’t seem to think so.
“Stay here,” he mutters as he heads after him, but to hell with that. I ignore his annoyed look as I follow them both into the darkness, my eyes adjusting in time to see Oliver toss his backpack over a tall brick wall that blocks off what must be the backyard.
“Explain,” Andrew says, catching him by the elbow before he can go any farther. “Now.”
Oliver gives a world-weary sigh and shrugs him off. “You used to be fun, you know that?”
“I’m telling Aunt Rachel,” Andrew warns, but Oliver just rolls his eyes and then, before I can so much as blink, takes a step back and leaps, grabbing hold of the top of the wall and pulling himself nimbly up before disappearing down the other side.
“Are you coming?” he calls way too loudly. Andrew looks horrified, but I feel a thrill shoot through me. Even though I just met the man, he’s Andrew’s cousin and I highly doubt that whatever we’re doing is that illegal or dangerous.
I mean, maybe it’sslightlyillegal.
And maybe it’s the mulled wine or maybe it’s because I’m having a surprisingly nice time, but whatever it is, I’m feeling a little reckless tonight.
“I dare you,” I say, and Andrew scoffs. But he knows he doesn’t really have a choice and so, with a final pointed glare at me, copies his cousin’s movement and jumps. He manages impressively well, while my effort is less graceful. I’ve never done anything like it before and there’s a moment when I’m straddling the top of the wall where I’m pretty sure I’m going to simply fall down the other side, but Andrew lingers below and helps me climb down while my arms shake like Jell-O.
“Nice one,” Oliver cheers as I dust off my sore, slightly grazed hands and look around. We’re in a small, pleasantly overgrown backyard, the patch of grass illuminated dimly by the lights coming from the surrounding homes. But through the windows of the veranda doors, the house looks as it did from the front, empty and dark.
“Are we really breaking in?” I ask.
Andrew huffs. “We’re not breaking in.”
“We’re kind of breaking in,” Oliver says, making his way to the stone patio bracketing the back of the house. “But we’re leaving things, not taking things. And we’ll be fine. This is a nice neighborhood. They probably think we’re cleaners.”
I follow him to the conservatory, picking my way through the withered winter flower beds while Andrew remains tense by the wall.
“Are you going to smash the window in?” I ask, worried.
“Of course not,” Oliver says, gazing at the various garden pots dotted around us. “We’re going to find the key.” He kneels abruptly beside a small terracotta one, picking it up. “It must be under— No.” He reaches for the blue one next to it. “This one looks— No.”
Andrew’s mood grows increasingly worse as Oliver uses the torch on his phone to look through the shrubs.
It seems a little too obvious to me, but I leave him to it as I take a closer look at my surroundings. The place is cared for, despite the wild look about it. Beside a weathered bench, there’s a covered barbecue and a small table and chairs. Butterflies made of colored glass dangle on the walls and the grass looks like it’s been mowed recently. In fact, the whole garden is mostly swept clear of debris and leaves… except for a few pointedly arranged ones around the gutter.
“Molly,” Andrew says in a warning tone as I wander off, but I’m like a hound catching a scent. I did a lot of team-building days during my various internships. Escape rooms are nothing new to me.
“Don’t encourage him,” he continues.
“Why are you in such a bad mood?” I ask, crouching beside the drain.
“I’m not.”
I don’t even bother to reply as I copy Oliver with my torch, plucking out the leaves. They’re muddied and gross, but it doesn’t take long to find a discarded metal tin of mints, hidden at the bottom. Bingo.
Oliver is by my shoulder in an instant. “Excellent work. You get a prize.”
“I do?”
“Don’t encouragehereither,” Andrew says as he joins us. Oliver wipes the key clean on Andrew’s sleeve before Andrew can stop him and hurries back to unlock the door. A flick of his wrist and it swings open and for two seconds the three of us simply stare inside before a loud beeping starts.
Oliver strides inside and I follow, too caught up in it all to stop.
Maybe I should become a criminal? Some kind of mysterious jewel thief.
I enter a tiny kitchen that leads into an open-plan living room. Oliver strides through it as though he’s been here a million times before and I go after him, with Andrew so close he bumps into me at every step, as though getting ready to grab me and flee.
“We have twenty seconds to figure this out,” Oliver says, coming to a stop in the small entranceway beside the door. He flicks open the lid to the beeping alarm and cracks his knuckles. “Pick a number between one and nine.”
