Chapter 6 #2
I should just accept the help. It isn’t easy, and it isn’t like any other adventure we’ve had before.
Those previous escapades involved a spontaneous trip to the beach, or a drive along a mountain range where we found a spring to dive in.
Those are adventures. Getting stranded in a random town where we have to somehow find a place to exist for a temporary time frame isn’t an adventure, nor is it an extended vacation.
It’s the result of circumstances out of our control.
I push through the backdoors of the school and stumble out into an alleyway that leads to a small parking lot and a basketball court with a smaller building off to the side.
Taking giant gulps of air, I steady myself, holding my bruised chin out and marching to the library. Finding the sidewalk once more, I walk around the building to the glass windowed front.
All the lights are off, and I’m just about to pull out the card to call this Ms. Aberdeen when the aroma of coffee wafts to me like a signal. Using my sniffer, I scent out the deliciousness and find an open window.
I bound up the front steps, only to find them locked.
But there’s coffee.
Which means there must be people.
Rushing back down the steps, I stroll onto the grass and over to one of the open side windows. The bitter scent strengthens, and I peek through the window to find a little old lady with a graying bun on her head and glasses slipping down her nose as she sips a cup of coffee.
I blame what happens next entirely on the events of the last twenty-four hours. I can even blame it on the fact I actually hit my head on a moose stone. All of it is true.
I tap on the window. “Ms. Aberdeen?” The small woman doesn’t notice me. Her eyes stray to the wall, where I can just make out a television.
I will not let this deter me.
Glancing around, I hunt for something to stand on and find a hidden cinder block that I drag behind the bushes and topple over so I can step on its vertical edge.
Now, I’m not the most balanced person in the world, but it doesn’t mean I don’t try to pretend I’m an acrobat. We all have dreams, right?
I step on the cement block and tap on the window again. “Ms. Aberdeen?”
She still doesn’t turn her head. What is she watching that’s so intriguing? I can’t even hear anything.
Tomorrow, I’ll regret my actions. I know the cement block was a bit of a mistake as well, but the other mistake I made was forgetting where I was.
I slide the window up, and using all my Pilates training, I toss myself through the window, where the glass promptly slides down and squishes me.
And this woman still doesn’t look at me.
Now I’m stuck in a window while the coffee pot taunts me with liquid heaven and no one pays attention to me.
At least now I can see what she’s watching, and I am not impressed. How is MTV still in business?
“Jersey Shore? Are you serious?” I exclaim, trying to catch my breath as I flail my legs and arms, my abs keeping me in place.
That gets her attention.
The tiny little woman turns her head slowly like she’s possessed, and she sips her coffee as though this is an everyday occurrence.
It isn’t. Not even for me.
“It’s like a train wreck I just can’t stop watching,” she remarks, utterly serious, and yet she still makes no move to rescue me.
“Which season?” I ask through gritted teeth.
“Four.”
“Ah, only two to go.”
“I’ll start from the beginning after I’ve watched it again. I have a soft spot for Pauly.”
“All the mafia princesses do,” I choke out, the windowpane digging into my abs. I use my arms to hold my body upright and take the pressure off my stomach.
She sighs wistfully. “In my day, Al Capone was our prince.”
I pause, raising an eyebrow. “I think he’s alive.”
“Of course he is, dear.” She sips her coffee, completely lucid. “Why are you in my window?”
“Noticed that, did you?” I roll my lips inward, jerking my head to the side. “Think you could lend me a hand?”
This queen waves. At whom?
I’m so shocked, I almost don’t feel the tug on my marshmallow coat.
“Miss?” I heard that though.
“There’s a man beside me, isn’t there?” I ask an unfazed Ms. Aberdeen. This spunky little lady sure has seen some stuff in her day.
“That would be the sheriff.” Like the boss she is, she leans over and grabs a pack of cookies from the counter. I must be in a break room. She eats a cookie, Jersey Shore long forgotten. “He’s cute. Single. His parents live over on Elm. Great breeding stock.” She wags her brows.
Oh no. Is she telling me the sheriff at my side is a handsome man? And here I am stuck in a window?
In for a penny, in for a pound. “So Arlo said you needed some help in the library.”
“I do.” Crunch goes the cookie.
“Think I can get an application?”
“You’re hired.”
“Just like that?”
She shrugs a delicate shoulder. “You crawled through a window to ask for a job. That shows enthusiasm. I like that.”
This must be The Twilight Zone.
“Miss.” Another tug. “I’m going to go ahead and pull you out.”
“Oh!” Ms. Aberdeen pops up far quicker than her languid speech. “I’ll help.”
“I don’t think…” I begin, but he’s already pulling, and she’s tugging the window open.
I fall right on my bum on the cold, hard ground. I jar my entire body, and my teeth clack together. Instead of getting up, I fall backwards to bask in my embarrassment.
“Miss, are you all right?” The young Brad Pitt look-alike blinks at me with crystalline blue eyes.
“Oh, she’s all right now that she’s set her eyes on you, Davis.” I raise my head to see a leering Ms. Aberdeen leaning on the windowsill, ogling the sheriff.
“Morning, Ms. Aberdeen.” He glances down at me, not sure what to make of the strange woman lying in the snowy grass.
I don’t know what to make of me either.
“When are you going to say yes and become my fifth husband?”
Fifth?
“Aww, I’m honored,” he stammers. The sheriff is nothing more than a rookie. “Is she causing you any trouble, miss?”
“Nope, she’s my new slave.”
“Wait, what?” I ask.
“Ms. Aberdeen.” The deputy sighs in exasperation. “We call them employees now.”
She just hums, licks her lips, and shuts the window, probably to go back to Jersey Shore.
“Is climbing through windows going to be a habit, Wren?” The sheriff, who already knows my name, gives me a hand, which he uses to yank me to my feet.
Cheeks ablaze, I shake my head. “Nope. Not at all.”
“Good day to ya.” He tips his hat and departs.
As far as first impressions go, this could have been worse.
I probably just jinxed myself.