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Mr. Wrong Number(22)

Author:Lynn Painter

“I’ll buy you a new plastic one, which I guarantee will last longer than this thing.” I turned to face him, strangely desperate to hide my back as I said, “But forget the colander, because I have amazing news that will actually make you happier than everyone else in the world. I mean, other than me.”

His eyes were now focused on my face as he waited for the news, and I got stuck in a pause. He must’ve sensed my Colin-is-so-hot-I’m-rendered-mute condition, because one side of his mouth went up and he asked, quietly, “First tell me what your tattoo says.”

Oh. The tattoo. It was silly, but I was unbelievably relieved there wasn’t some unsightly and disgusting blob on my back that’d attracted his attention. The tattoo was a quote from Pride and Prejudice that stretched down my spine in loose cursive, so Colin would never get close enough to read the whole thing.

“What are you, a cop?” I said it just as quietly, and I wondered if it was my dinner pregaming that made the air suddenly crackle. I said around a smile, “I don’t have to tell you anything.”

“Don’t make me—”

“Wine me, bro.” Jack ran across the living room floor in socks and slid into the kitchen, stopping right between us and releasing all of the air’s electricity. He was holding out his hand, waiting for a glass, and I had to laugh because he was such a moron.

Still smirking at me, Colin poured him a glass and put it in Jack’s extended hand as my brother said, “What is this amazing news, Livvie? You’ve been found not guilty on all counts of arson?”

“Nope. They still think I burned down the building on purpose.”

Jack’s eyes darted over like he thought I was serious, which made me shake my head and mutter, “You’re such a gullible idiot.”

I’d actually gotten an email from the fire marshal that morning with great news on the investigation. As it turned out, my apartment had been the only occupied unit in the building because renovations were underway; mine had been next in line. Apparently the construction company had left some hazardous materials in the stairwell that hadn’t been stored properly, which was why the whole building went up into a fast blaze instead of my love letters being pretty much the sole cause of the fire.

Bottom line: I no longer had to worry about being liable for the entire building burning down, thank the sweet heavens.

I turned back to the stove, shut off the burner, and grabbed the handles on the huge pot of boiling pasta.

Colin said, “Hold up, Liv.”

I gave him side-eye as he shouldered in and took the handles from me. “Let me guess, sexist, you don’t think I’m strong enough to drain a pot of noodles.”

Jack groaned and walked over to the beer fridge. “Here we go with the ballbusting.”

But Colin lifted the pot, carried it to the sink, and started pouring the water into the colander. “Wrong. You’re strong enough, but I’m afraid your Liv luck will kick in and you’ll do something like sneeze and throw a pot of scalding water at my face.”

“That’s fair, actually.” I followed him and grabbed the bottle of olive oil from the counter. “Do you think that after you drain the spaghetti, Mr. Saving the World from My Wrath, you can pour me some wine so I don’t spill it all over your fancy wood floors?”

“Consider it done.” He took the oil from my hand and started drizzling it on the pasta while watching me. “As soon as you tell me your news.”

“I could tell you now,” I said, turning away from him and walking toward the table, “but where’s the fun in that?”

I pulled a lighter from my pocket and lit the candles I’d placed at the center of the table. The whole tableau looked gorgeous, from the pretty white plates to the flickering pillars to the ivory cloth napkins, but it was the dusky lowlights of the city just outside those ginormous windows that made the scene stunning.

When I turned back around, they were both staring at me in shock. Specifically, they were staring at the lighter in my hand, two frozen dudes who appeared to be holding their collective breaths.

“Oh, my God, would you two relax? My one fire was more than enough.”

* * *

? ? ?

“TO ME, AND to my fantastical new job.”

“Holy balls, Liv, you’ve toasted yourself like ten times.” Jack leaned back in his chair and said, “Why don’t you save a little for when the job actually starts?”

I didn’t care what Jack thought, because Colin was giving me a smirk and I was tipsy-happy at that moment. I said, “First of all, my debut article is in the process of being edited, so technically I’ve already started. Second, I’ve got to take celebration where I can get it, bro.”

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