Page 13 of Oops I Fell For The Lumberjack Next Door

Me:

He lives next door.

Layla:

WHAT

Me:

And he just spent the morning fixing my bedroom floor. And I think he tried to kiss me. And I think I wanted him to.

Layla:

Margot. Margot Elaine Hemmings.

Me:

I know.

Layla:

WHAT IS HAPPENING IN THAT MOUNTAIN TOWN

I put the phone face down. Lean my head back against the wall. Through the window, I can see him crossing his yard. Tinsel at his heels. He pulls the beanie off, runs one hand through his hair. Stops at the splitting stump, picks up the axe, and starts chopping.

From my bedroom window, I watch Briggs Holloway split firewood with the efficiency of a man born to it. Each swing controlled. Each log splitting clean. Muscles working under the thermal. Forearms. Shoulders. Back.

My phone buzzes.

Layla:

You still there? Margot??? DON'T YOU DARE KISS THE VILLAIN.

I pick it up.

Me:

Too late. Almost.

Layla:

ALMOST ISN'T A NO.

She's right. It isn't.

And that's the problem.

CHAPTER FOUR

BRIGGS

Princess Buttercup goes missing at nine forty seven on a Thursday night.

I know the exact time because my phone buzzes with a text from Margot, and Margot has never texted me before. We don't text. We exist in a state of reluctant proximity where she tolerates my presence when things break, thanks me through clenched teeth, and goes back to pretending I don't live forty feet away.

Margot:

My cat got out. Side door didn't latch. She's fourteen and has no survival skills. I can't find her.