Chapter 7 - Kate #2
I bend down to collect it and pry open the package first. It’s my tea order. Delivered in a matter of hours, yet I don’t have a Prime account for expedited delivery. I take out the two slips inside. One’s a delivery docket and the other is a note.
Hydrate first. Moan later.
Your unsolicited tea supplier.
What in the name of the Celestial Fae realm is this?
Gifts from an unidentified tea supplier are a first for me, and I’m not sure whether to be giddy or worried.
Whoever the sender is, they know me well.
My bet is on Harper. She’s the likely candidate with the moaning reference when it’s my exact reaction to my first sip of tea in the morning.
Bonus Bestie Points!
The second is a metallic pink envelope with a paw print sticker. Curiosity growing by the second, I tear open that baby and read.
Your neighbor won’t be bothering you anymore. Read all your mail and look left to understand. Enjoy the lessons.
No signature. Just a gift card for training lessons with a local dog trainer inside.
Two guesses who sent this one. Harper or Charlie.
They both think Josh is unruly, like me.
My dog’s an overachiever in the barking department.
I’ve tried everything. Toys and play activity morning and night.
Install a barrier between him and the fence to quell his contact with the neighbor.
Walked him twice a day. I’m yet to try training and discipline.
My bad for calling him the Brat Prince after Lestat De Lioncourt.
I look left as instructed. At the base of Harry’s driveway is the Mount Everest of horse poop piles. Whoever did that is my kind of petty.
I rifle through the rest of my mail to understand the context of all this. Monthly bill for my phone. Junk mail that I’ll toss and won’t read. A letter from the Local Council that I fetch from its envelope.
Goddamn Harry complained to the Council about Josh’s barking, and they’ve fined me. I’ll have that old bastard know my dog is the cutest little squeaker ever and only barks when a courier delivers something. My insides sharpen, and I feel the need to stab something.
Stay Zen. Find my inner peace.
Harry’s gonna have to cart away twenty wheelbarrows’ worth of shit to get his car out of his driveway tomorrow. Talk about Karma.
I unlock the door and shoot off a quick text to Charlie.
Me: Thank you for the tea and doggy lessons, my sweet angel. We feel thoroughly spoiled. Catch up for lunch and coffee on Friday?
Ready to give Harper a hug that will elicit hives, I nudge open the door with my elbow, cradling my goodies.
Josh greets me with a wag, a bark, and the cutest little nose twitch.
Okay. I’ll admit, he has a few quirks. Who doesn’t?
His list just includes barking us awake and to bed.
Stealing worn socks and expensive underwear like he’s building a scent shrine.
Claiming prime spot on the couch and growling if anyone dares displace him.
Hmm. Maybe I’m raising a tyrant who needs the lessons.
Spoiling him doesn’t make him a nuisance or a chronic barker.
“Hi, my prince!” I sweep him into my arms and get smothered in doggy kisses.
I carry him into the kitchen, where Harper is searing a steak for dinner.
I dump my goodies on the aisle and move to her and slam the fine beside the stove, hoping she burns it, and we pretend we never received it.
I give her the bad news before the good. “Fucking Harry submitted a complaint to the Council for Josh barking.”
“Do we need ice cream or tequila shots prior to this murder?” Classic bestie line.
I love that she knows me better than anyone else. “How weird will it taste if we have both?”
“You’re on your own there.” She turns the steak.
Feigning offense, I squeeze Josh and peck his head. “I’m revoking your Ride or Die status effect immediately. Are you with me, Josh, or are you still a traitor on Team Harper?”
He barks his response, and I have no idea whose team he’s on.
“Where’s your loyalty, bestie?” I groan. “You lose a Lachlan Kane point.”
Lachlan Kane. Hero in Leather and Lark, one of our favorite serial killer romances.
Also the name of a points tally game, rating everything from a book boyfriend, to a movie, to our day.
Both of us automatically assumed five-star status as besties, but I’m starting to rethink her rating with these new threats.
“If I murder Harry, can I win the point back and earn a bonus for dropping the coffin petunias on his doorstep?” Harper leaves the steak to toss the salad.
“I love that you’re evil, you know that?” I grab cutlery and set it on the dining table six feet away.
“I vote we get a t-shirt with that quote Fuck Harry on it,” she says, adding the dressing. “Wear it while we sing Christmas Carols on his doorstep.”
“Come here, Goth Fae.” I squish Josh between us for a hug. “You’re the best partner-in-crime a bestie can ask for, especially for dumping manure in his driveway.”
Harper laughs, then squirms. “Ugh, too much affection. There’s a glitch in the system.”
Josh complains at the love squishfest, and I release them both, coaching him, “Tell Auntie Harper thanks for the doggy lessons and tea.”
He barks loud and proud.
“And thank her for not inducting you into an assassin cult.” He makes more noise for me. “And for the goodies on the doorstep.”
Harper glances over her shoulder. “They’re not from me. Neither is the poop.”
“You didn’t get them?” I point at the items.
“Bitch, please,” she says. “If I were stalking you, you wouldn’t know it, and Harry would be dead and gift-wrapped by now. They’re probably from your mysterious biker friend.”
Friend. Hah! Real funny.
I glance at her and the hall leading to the front door. Why does my heart give a little flutter at the idea of the biker stalker doing this?
I don’t get to analyze that question when a reply dings through on my phone, and I read it.
Charlie: Wasn’t me, boo. Whoever it was knows how to make you smile. See you Friday. Can you pick me up?
Even more confused, I bang back a reply.
Me: Sure. 12PM?
Now it’s looking like my biker stalker may be behind this since he’s the only person who’s taken an avid interest in my life for whatever reason.
Romantic gestures come in all shapes and sizes.
Roses. Chocolate. Threatening my neighbor.
Equine revenge dumps. Sigh. If this is courtesy of my mysterious biker stalker, then he’s definitely book boyfriend material.
A menace with a moral code. And damn it, I know it’s too soon, but how can I not love him?