Campbell brothers ongoing text thread
Bodie: Thanks for the head’s up that the new renter was coming early.
Zeke: Oh, excuse me, do you have a wife who’s locked herself in the bathroom, a 7 year old who’s smarter than you, and a 3 year old who’s teaching the 2 year old how to stalk me? Do you?
Harper led Ham back to her building and took a moment to stand at her front door and take it all in. Yes, she’d just moved far from everyone and everything she’d ever known.
Without a list.
She felt good about it. Hell, she felt great about it. Sure, no one had so much as blinked when she’d left. And maybe that had hurt, but this . . . This was her new start, and the first thing she’d ever really done just for herself and no one else. She smiled down at Ham. “Welcome home, baby. It’s just you and me.”
His tail gave a loud thump-thump as he smiled up at her like she was all he needed.
She accessed her flashlight on her phone and pressed her face to the big picture window. Okay, so the landlord hadn’t been kidding, there was indeed a lot to do. She could see dust on every surface. But all it needed was some elbow grease, new paint, and the scent of her homemade goods. That would make it feel like home. “We start in the morning,” she told Ham, who panted happily up at her.
Pulling out her new keys, she reached for the door, then nearly swallowed her tongue. Staring at her, with a whole bunch of eyeballs, sat the biggest and fattest spider she’d ever seen—perched right on the door handle like he owned it.
Fear was a funny thing. It was also irrational. One second she nearly and very accidentally touched the spider to open the door, and in the next she’d jerked back, tripped over Ham, and was flat on her ass on the wet cobblestone walkway, swearing and sweating in spite of the cold night.
The bookstore next to her opened, and out came Velma, muttering something about too-long days at work and how life sucked. She stopped short at the sight of Harper on the ground, Ham in her lap. Or at least trying to get in her lap. Hard to do when he weighed more than she did, but he was giving it the old college try.
Velma went brows up. Apparently, she didn’t believe in wasting words.
“M-m-mutant spider!” Harper managed, pointing at her door.
Velma came close, her knee-high boots click-clicking. She bent to eye the monster, then casually flicked it off. It went sailing into the air and . . . right at Harper. In the middle of heart failure, she ducked. “What the—” She raised her head. “You just flicked the biggest spider I’ve ever seen right at me!”
“He missed you by a mile.” She patted Ham on the head, and he looked up at her adoringly.
Harper nudged Ham off her and got to her feet. “I thought you were gone for the night.”
“Forgot my laptop. I’m surprised you haven’t run back to San Diego by now.”
“Hey, I’m not that big of a wuss.” She eyed the now spider-free door. “Though I’m really regretting the whole no-lists thing because then I’d have remembered to bring mutant spider spray.”
Velma laughed. “Wait until you see a bear. Or mountain cat.”
Harper put a hand to her chest, because nope, it hadn’t been heart failure before, but it was now. “Don’t they live in the woods?”
Velma threw her arm out at the forest behind the buildings. “You live in the woods now, City Girl. Wolf spiders, bears, mountain cats, and coyotes are your new norm. Take it or leave it.”
“Harper,” she corrected distractedly. But it was true. She was a city girl. Who’d moved to the woods. “My name is Harper. And I’m going to take it.”
“Uh-huh.” Velma looked doubtful. “Shay. Have a nice move back to the city, Harper.”
“I’m not moving back!” she yelled into the night after her. Then she realized that by standing there, she was fair game to the wolf spiders, bears, and . . . good God . . . mountain cats. She turned back to her door and gulped.
Be brave.
With a nod to herself, she unlocked and opened the front door. Ham, no dummy, stayed behind her. She automatically reached out to hit the light switch. When nothing happened, she remembered: no electricity until tomorrow. So she once again used her flashlight app, beaming it around, taking in the remnants of the abandoned pizzeria that had been here before. This building was fewer square feet than the bar, but it was perfect for her. It had an open floor plan: the kitchen in the back, counter and displays in the center, and an area for customers to gather while they waited in the front. No furniture, though there were two booths against a wall. She moved to the kitchen and took her first deep breath. The kitchen was everything. Industrial, modernized, and, in spite of the dust, perfect.
In the narrow space between the front counter and kitchen was a locked door, which she knew led to the upstairs apartment. “Here goes nothing,” she told Ham.
They went up the stairs, Ham so close at her back that he tripped her twice. She had no idea if he was protecting her or if he was just as nervous as she was that they’d find more creepy-crawlies, but the company was nice.
There was a bathroom and two small rooms, one of which she’d use as an office. Her furniture wouldn’t come for a week. Until then, she’d use her trusty sleeping bag. “It’ll be like camping,” she told Ham.
Ham didn’t look impressed.
She looked into the dark bathroom and caught several sets of red eyes aimed at her. “Ohmigod!” Quickly backing out, she slammed the door.
Ham let out a “ruh-roh” sound, and she took a deep breath. “We’ve got good news and bad. Good news first, since I’m a cup-half-full sort of gal . . .” She totally wasn’t, but sometimes a girl had to fake it to make it. “We’ve got a bathtub. The bad news is that there’s a raccoon and at least two babies with her.”
Ham looked deeply concerned.
“I know, but hey, we’ve lived in far worse conditions, right?” Besides, she had no backup plan. Failure was not an option.
Going chin up, she gingerly opened the bathroom door again. Mama raccoon stood in front of her babies in a defensive pose, doing a pretty great imitation of a mama bear.
“You know what?” Harper held up a hand. “You take the bathroom, no problem.” She slowly backed out and shut the door. “It’s not like we’ve got water anyways,” she told Ham. “They can be tomorrow’s problem.”
Twenty minutes later she’d settled in the sleeping bag she’d gotten out of her car. She lay on one of the bench seats of the booths, feet hanging off and all three of her extra blankets on top of her for added warmth. Her steadfast steed was on the other bench. He sighed.
“I know. Nice Ass warned us not to stay here, but we need every penny to make this work. We’re fine.” And she hadn’t lied to Nice Ass—okay, so she now knew his name was Bodie, whatever—about having a place to stay. She did have a place.
Here.
A “puuuuffff” sounded in the dark, accompanied by an instant stench. “Seriously, Ham?” She scooped the neckline of her sweatshirt up over her mouth and nose. “Wow.”
Her only answer was a soft snore. He could sleep anywhere, at any time. This was not in her skill set. She was more of a lie-awake-and-angst-about-every-problem-she’d-ever-had kind of person.
Her tummy growled, reminding her that she’d not eaten the food Bodie had given them. Excited, she sat up, then froze at the sound of something at the back door. Dear God, if that was the spider coming back with his entire family, she was going to expire on the spot.
But unless the spider had opposable thumbs, it was someone else—and that someone else was testing the handle to see if it was locked. She had a moment’s panic during which she couldn’t remember if she’d locked it after going out for her sleeping bag. “Ham,” she whispered.
He climbed up on her side of the booth and tried to hide behind her. She patted him in reassurance. “Okay, baby, I’ve got this.”
This was a lie, of course. She had bravado in spades, but real bravery? Not an ounce. Still, she slid out of her sleeping bag and did a quick circle, looking for something to defend herself. She had nothing. Latching on to Ham’s collar, she urged him off the bench. No easy feat since he did not want to go. “Look, all I need is for you to stand with me and look fierce,” she whispered. She had her cell phone in hand, having punched in 9-1-1, but hadn’t activated the call yet. After all, it could just be Daddy Raccoon coming home from a long day at the office.
But she knew it wasn’t when the back door slowly creeped open. Yep, she’d indeed forgotten to lock it. Rookie mistake, especially seeing as she’d survived the drive up here, faced a wolf spider and a badass raccoon mama . . . only to possibly die from a bakery invasion.
A shadow crept in and stopped in the open doorway as if taking in the lay of the land.
Harper, heart in her throat, rose up and aimed her flashlight at the shadow, her thumb hovering over the green “connect the call” circle on her phone at the same time. “Who’s there?” she demanded.
The shadow turned toward her, and Harper stepped closer and beamed the light right into the shadow’s face, hoping to momentarily stun them while she ran past.
But what she caught in the light made her freeze.
A teenaged girl.