Page 45 of Peach Cobbler Confessions
“I think Imadeyou.” She starts plucking those cotton balls out from between her toes, and it suddenly looks as if it’s snowing in here. “I was breaking and entering long before you were a glimmer in Mayor Nash’s eyes. Face it, Lot, my affinity for burglary is in your DNA. And it only gets worse from generation to generation. I think you’ve got a felon brewing in your belly.”
“You mention my belly again and I’m going to commit a felony before we ever leave the house.”
“I’ll get my shoes and keys. I’ll leave my whiskey at home as a treat for when I get back. If I’m headed out with you, I’m going to need it.”
“And I’ll leave my sanity at home.”
I’m headed to Fallbrook.
Noah and Everett would never approve.
But what they don’t know won’t hurt them.
Most of the time.
Chapter 15
Green Greased Lightning is only a few hours old and has already garnered a shiny new nickname, the Greedy Green Speeding Machine.
I’ll be the first to admit this green bullet sure does have some serious get up and go. Lucky for Carlotta and me, there’s not a soul on the highway with us.
Carlotta was able to figure out Kent Noble’s address fairly quickly thanks to public records and the clincher was seeing the nameNoblein copper lettering underneath his address right there, out in the open, on his mailbox.
We drove a block north to a public park before we trek back on foot. The moon is just a shadow of its former self, the night is dark as navy velvet, and the air is scented with rosemary and lavender.
“Carlotta,” I hiss as we tiptoe our way up the street. “Why did you have to put on that face mask? Your face is glowing like a full moon.”
“Excuse me for not being on Lottie-Dottie-might-rob-a-house detail. I was getting ready for some lovin’, I’ll have you know. Harry will be stopping by in a few hours, and I was spit-shining myself for him.”
“A few hours?” I balk. “Carlotta, it’s already eleven at night.”
“Love knows not the season nor the hour. Don’t you read poetry? You’re acting like you were raised by wolves.”
I pause a moment to frown over at her. “I was raised by people who imposed a strict nine o’clock curfew.”
“I’m sorry, Lot. If I knew it’d be that hard for you, I would have dropped you off in the woods in hopes the fairies would have gotten you. Instead, you got those monsters. Who knew their last name said it all? You really did end up with a couple of lemons for parents.”
“I did not end up with lemons.” I pause once again to glare at her. “The Lemons were good people. What am I saying? I am a Lemon. My parents are great. And I’m not even going to ask about the fairies.”
“I knew you wouldn’t get it.” She pokes me in the side with her finger. “Only a movie buff like me understands the ugly truth about the changelings.”
“Carlotta, a changeling is a myth propagated by the Scottish.”
A small titter escapes her. “What do you think the fairies say about the transmundane?”
“Nothing,” I snip. “Because they’re not real.”
“You can take the changelings, the vampires, and the werewolves, but I won’t let you take my fairies.”
“Fine,” I hiss. “You can have at all the fairies you like, just keep your pie hole shut until we get back in the van. We need to keep quiet or someone might wake up and call the sheriff’s department.”
She holds up a finger, but in this murky darkness I’m not sure which one. I’m betting it’s the dicey one in the middle.
“Hey, Lot,” she whispers as we come upon the Noble home. “Did you knownymphsare fairies? And male nymphs are the most beautiful male creatures in all existence?”
“Stop talking about fairies,” I whisper right back as I lead us up alongside the property. “We’ll continue this conversation later.” When I have a pillow around to shove over her face—preferably one with a fairy stitched over it.
“I just thought you of all people would want to know about the nymph men, seeing that you like to fornicate with the finest male creatures of all Honey Hollow. Back in my day, they had a name for girls like you, and it wasn’t very nice, Lottie.”