Chapter 33
Chapter 33
“Excuse us,” Grandma Mabel called out while her fingers wrapped around Daphne’s forearm. She towed Daphne down the porch steps and across the front lawn, where Greta’s beige clunker of a car idled by the curb.
“Grandma, is this really necessary—”
“Hush, honey,” her grandmother replied. “We’re all here. We just want to go over a few details.”
Daphne frowned as she bent over to peer into the car windows. Greta waved cheerily from behind the wheel, her thighs twitching as if with anticipation for the pedal-to-the-metal getaway she probably hoped to make later. The passenger seat was free, with Grandma Mabel’s purse in the footwell.
And in the back seat, Ellie beamed at Daphne as she lowered her window. Beside her, another person was hunched over a laptop.
Daphne squinted at her sister, then at the laptop user. She started. “Ryan?”
Pushing his hoodie back from his face, Ryan Lane glanced over to lift his chin in greeting. His laptop screen illuminated his face in an eerie white glow. His bruised temple had healed from the beating that Daphne had delivered with her purse. “Sup,” he said.
“What are you doing here?”
“He’s our tech guy,” Ellie announced.
“On that note, what are you doing here?” Daphne demanded. “You’re supposed to be cured of your deviant ways. You’re getting married and everything.”
Ellie’s smile was unrepentant. “One last job,” she explained. “I couldn’t let Grandma handle this one on her own. I’m here as an extra set of eyes in case something goes wrong.”
Daphne shot a furtive glance over her shoulder. Calvin sat on the small bench by the front door, tying his shoes as he watched them. She forced a smile before turning back to her sister. “The probability of things going wrong just skyrocketed with you being here.” She glared at her grandmother. “You all should go home.”
“No can do. We’ve paid Ryan for his time, and we intend to get value for our money,” Mabel explained.
“Paid him for what?”
“I have access to the Yarrows’ security system,” Ryan said absentmindedly, fingers flying over his keyboard.
“You what ?”
“He’s very good,” Mabel said.
“He’s our eyes and ears,” Greta explained. “We’ll be able to see everything that happens inside and guide you.”
“Here,” Ellie said, shoving something at Daphne. “Wear this.”
Daphne took the bundle Ellie had dropped in her hands and recoiled. “I’m not wearing an earpiece. No way. What do you think this is? We’re not executing a bank heist.”
Ryan’s fingers stilled. He squinted at the earpiece, then shrugged at Ellie. “We’ll go with plan B.”
Daphne planted her hands on her hips. “What’s plan B?”
“Group text,” Ryan said. “The five of us plus Harry. I’ll text her at the optimal time for her to cause a distraction, and that’ll be your cue to head to the kitchen to make the grab.”
“This is a disaster,” Daphne mumbled.
“Not yet,” Ellie replied brightly. “Right now it’s only a potential disaster. Nice dress, by the way.”
Daphne glared at her little sister.
“Right,” Grandma Mabel said, “Ellie and I will wait for Ryan’s signal, and then we’ll meet you by the eastern side of the backyard fence. There’s a gate, so you should be able to either open it or drop the pot over the fence. We’ll grab it and go.”
“I’ll keep the car running,” Greta supplied. “I’ve got my route planned out.”
“We did a dry run this morning,” Grandma Mabel explained.
“You did a dry—” Daphne bit off the end of her sentence as a headache bloomed behind her temples. Why had she agreed to this? How could she ever have thought this was a good idea?
Now she was hooking up with a man who would drop her as soon as he got bored of her. She was once again out of work with few prospects, and about to put her reputation at risk—for what? What was the point of all this?
Grandma Mabel’s hand slid over Daphne’s forearm, drawing Daphne’s gaze. Mabel’s eyes softened as their eyes met, her warm fingers squeezing Daphne’s wrist. “I’m so proud of you,” Grandma Mabel said softly. “I’d lost hope of ever getting that pot back, and if it weren’t for you, that piece of my history would be gone forever.”
Just like that, Daphne’s uncertainty vanished. She’d go through with this plan, no matter what it meant for her relationship with Calvin. Her throat constricted, and she cast another quick glance toward Calvin, who had disappeared from view.
Whatever happened between the two of them didn’t really matter in the end. Daphne would always be the diligent worker bee, the one who read the terms and conditions, who had a color-coded schedule. She would always be the opposite of spontaneous.
A man like Calvin Flint would forever be out of reach. He’d end up with someone like Jenna Deacon, because he’d soon realize that all this chaos and excitement whirling around Daphne wasn’t the normal state of affairs. When the dust settled, he’d see that she really was the boring good girl everyone thought her to be. He’d realize that he wanted excitement and spontaneity, just like Pete.
He hadn’t made any promises, and neither had she. Maybe it was better to treat this as a temporary tryst.
Daphne would be left to fend for herself, with her to-do lists and retirement forecasts. She knew that, in the end, that was the only possibility available to her. No man would truly want boring old Daphne Davis once he realized that passion didn’t last forever.
But just this once—this one time —Daphne could be something more. She could do it for her grandmother. She could do it for her sister.
She could do it for herself.
Nodding at her grandmother, she turned to Ellie. “If anything starts looking hairy, you get these guys out of there,” she said.
“I promise,” Ellie said with a solemn nod. Then she reached out through the open window and squeezed Daphne’s hand. “I didn’t know you had it in you, Daphne. I have to say, it’s pretty awesome to see this side of you.”
“Enjoy it while it lasts,” Daphne replied, then squared her shoulders and marched back to the house.
Calvin was waiting on the couch. He slipped his phone into his pocket when she walked in, his brows arching. “Everything okay?”
“That depends on your definition of ‘okay,’” Daphne quipped, then let her lips curl into a smile. “You ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” His gaze dropped to Daphne’s legs, then to her feet. “You going barefoot?”
Daphne glanced down. A few blades of grass clung to her toes, and her skin had gone pink from the chill outside. She hadn’t even realized she’d gone out without shoes on. “No,” she said. “Of course not.”
Calvin exhaled as he stood, his hands sliding over Daphne’s arms as uncertainty clouded his gaze. “Are you sure you’re okay, Daphne? You look like you’re about to go to war.”
Lips twisting, Daphne let her gaze slide away from his. “Maybe I am.”
Calvin’s warm chuckle settled into Daphne’s bones and made her wish for things that would never belong to her. She trembled as he curled his finger under her chin, his lips brushing hers in a tender kiss. When he pulled away, his eyes were intent, like he was trying to read something in her expression, or trying to tell her something with his.
“I’ve got some fresh mint-chip ice cream in the freezer for tonight,” he said softly. “Once this event is over, we’ll come back here and eat the whole thing. Just you, me, a couple spoons, and that couch.”
It was ridiculous to want to cry at those words. Patently absurd. But Daphne felt like Flint was dangling something in front of her that could never truly belong to her. Her perfect date night was a comfy couch, a warm blanket, and a pint of mint chip. Her perfect man was someone who was happy to be right there with her.
And she knew that once the shine wore off, once they were no longer sneaking around, pretending and not pretending, once Flint realized that Daphne really was as dull as everyone said, Daphne would have to take all these moments and tell herself they’d meant nothing.
The problem was, to her, they meant a whole lot more.