Rom-Com Collection (Part 2). Kristan Higgins

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СКАЧАТЬ it be Bronte, maybe? It was possible … she came over once in a while, but without Noah here, she would’ve gone to Mom’s. Maybe it was Freddie, but what the heck would he be doing in my bathroom? Should I follow that train of thought? Maybe it was a mass murderer, on the run from the police, ducking into our perpetually unlocked home to hide, coldly delighted to find one more victim.

      It’s probably a bat, dummy, the First Lady said. The thought was calming, despite Michelle’s disrespectful tone. She was probably right. Speaking of bats, well, I didn’t have one. Baseball bat, that was. But I did have an oar, this old wooden oar I’d bought at a yard sale a few years ago, which I’d hung up as a very cool decoration. Taking care to be quiet, just in case the noise was indeed caused by Jack the Ripper, I crept over and took the oar off the wall.

      Picking up my cell phone, I flipped it open, pressed 9, then 1, then kept my thumb hovering right there. If there really was a person in my bathroom, I’d press the last 1, then toss the phone under the bed so the perp couldn’t pry it from my hand and hang up. The police could then track my signal and rescue me. And surely Bowie wouldn’t just twirl in gleeful circles as I was attacked, right? Surely he’d protect the woman who’d saved him from the animal shelter, right? I glanced at my faithful friend. He was sleeping. Super.

      Tiptoeing across the room, I could feel my heart clattering. The thing in my bathroom was probably a bat or a bird, but … what if it was a serial killer? Or a terrorist? Don’t forget vampire, Michelle suggested.

      Lucky for me, the bathroom door’s latch was still broken. The door was closed, but I could kick it open the way they did on Law & Order: Criminal Intent and thus surprise my intruder. Oar in one hand, phone in the other, I took a deep breath, then kicked the door open as hard as I could.

      A naked man leaned against my shower, dripping wet, his back to me.

      “Aaah!” I screamed—the door hit the wall and closed again, and I leaped backward, away, the oar clattering to the floor. Bowie bolted to his feet, barking hysterically, rushing instantly to my side. A shriek—someone else’s—split the air, and I gave an answering scream. Holy shit, who was in there? What was in there?

      “Nine-one-one operator, what’s your emergency?” came a voice. Thank God, I’d hit the last 1, bless my smart thumb. “Naked man! Naked man!” someone yelled—oh, it was me! Hide the phone! my brain instructed, so I hurled my cell across the room and vaulted across the bed, Bowie rocketing after me, baying in high-pitched panic, as I scrambled away from the naked intruder. Grabbing a pillow, I clutched it in front of me, my back against the wall.

      The bathroom door opened again, and I screamed, long and loud.

      “Christly, Callie, shut up!”

      My scream choked off mid-screech.

      My grandfather. Wrapped in a towel. It was Noah. Noah! The naked man had been leaning because he only had one leg. I threw the pillow to the floor.

      “Jesus God in heaven, Noah, what the hell were you thinking?” I yelled, my entire body shaking wildly. Bowie barked, backing me up. “I thought you were a serial killer! You scared the life out of me!”

      “Did I?” Noah snapped. “You’re kiddin’ me. And what if I was a killer, huh? Your pillow gonna save your life, dumb-ass?”

      “You … I—” My heart still thundered away, so hard my head buzzed. “What the hell are you doing in my bathroom, anyway?” I asked.

      “What the hell are you doing home so early?” he countered.

      “I left work a little … wait a minute, wait a minute,” I said. “Who else was screaming? It wasn’t just me, was it?”

      “None of your business,” Noah answered, but his cheeks reddened.

      “Is someone else in there?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

      At that moment, Jody Bingham appeared from the bathroom, damp and … okay … wearing my bathrobe. “Hi, Callie,” she said calmly. “Sorry we scared you.”

      In the distance, I heard the sound of sirens. “Well, I’m sorry I called 911,” I said.

      WHEN THE POLICE, THE EMTS and the volunteer fire department (half of whom were River Rats) had listened to my story four or five times, wept tears of mirth and ascertained that my grandfather was not a threat to my safety, they finally trooped out.

      “Always great to see you, Noah,” Robbie Neal, president of the River Rats, said, shaking my grandfather’s hand.

      “Get outta here, Mister Man,” Noah grumbled.

      Robbie winked at me. “Sorry for your troubles, Callie,” he said.

      “Not as sorry as I am,” I returned. He closed the door behind him, already pulling out his phone to share the love.

      “Noah, Jody, once again, I’m wicked sorry,” I said. “But maybe you’ve learned an important lesson about not using other people’s bathrooms, huh?” I stirred the soup I’d whipped up during my little police interrogation. Jody and Noah sat at the kitchen table, looking rightfully sheepish.

      “We weren’t doing anything too …” Jody paused. “Nothing that improper, Callie,” she assured me. “Your grandfather’s leg hurt, I suggested he take a little Jacuzzi, and the tub’s in your bathroom.”

      “Uh-huh. So, Noah, the next time your truck’s in the shop and you feel like getting a booty call, maybe you could leave a note?”

      “What’s a booty call?” he asked.

      “What do you think?” I muttered, still a little ticked off. One does not often see one’s grandfather naked in one’s bathroom, after all. And thank the merciful Christ for that.

      “A booty call is when you visit someone for sex,” Jody said matter-of-factly. “Callie’s teaching us hip-hop. It’s very enlightening.”

      “So,” I said, bringing the pot of soup to the table and going back for a pack of Ritz crackers and some cream cheese, “how long have you two been … getting it on?”

      “Oh, we’re not really getting it on,” Jody said fondly. “Just two kindred spirits, right, Noah?”

      “Let’s not get hysterical,” he muttered, but his cheeks were pink, and when Jody reached across the table to hold his hand, he didn’t pull away.

      At that moment, the back door opened, and in poured the entire rest of my family—the parents, the siblings, the nieces.

      “We just got a call from Robbie Neal,” my father said, his forehead wrinkled with concern. “He said there was a break-in involving a … a pervert, honey?” Dad came right over to me and gripped my upper arms.

      “There was,” I confirmed. “And it was terrifying.”

      Once again, I told the story of Naked Grampy, which was sure to become a Hallmark Hall of Fame movie.

      “That is so nasty,” Bronte said, her face a little gray.

      Freddie was rocking back and forth, wheezing, Hester СКАЧАТЬ