Life's Too Short (The Friend Zone #3)(21)

Hers was “Redemption” by Lola Simone. Mine was “Back Down” by Bob Moses. I liked running to it.

“So,” she said, returning my phone. “Tell me, Adrian, how much time do you spend at the gym? Why are you so chiseled?”

I laughed. “Chiseled?”

“Yeah.” She cradled Grace and kissed her cheek. “I read a lot of romance novels and this is definitely chiseling that you have going on.”

“I try to stay in shape. I do triathlons sometimes.”

She blanched. “For fun?”

I peeled the tape off a box. “What, you don’t think running, biking, and swimming are fun?”

“I think walks on the beach, leisurely bike rides, and floating are fun. I don’t run unless I’m being chased. So, do you drink anything other than wine?”

“Bourbon sometimes. You?”

“Gin, socially. What are your vices?”

I wrinkled my forehead. “I drive too fast. And I like good restaurants. I spend too much money on food.”

“Me too! The restaurant thing, not the driving thing. What’s your favorite restaurant?”

“Oh, that’s a tough one.” I pulled a tissue-wrapped snow globe out of the box I was opening, dipped it so that the snow flew, and showed it to her. She nodded to the keep pile. “I can’t say I have a favorite restaurant. Just favorite dishes.”

She looked at a postcard with a crayon drawing on it. “Even better. Which ones?”

“Well, let’s see. I like the cavatelli with braised rabbit at Lucrezia’s.”

She was nodding. “Their gnocchi is in my top ten.”

“Yes. And for steaks I like Cl—”

“Clove and Cleaver,” she said, finishing my sentence without looking up.

I smiled. “I love their jalapeno poppers.”

“And the fried green tomatoes.”

I laughed. “Yes.”

She put the postcard in the keep pile. “I am a huge foodie. I almost fainted once in Rome after a PA wanted to eat at McDonald’s. If someone invites me to lunch, and they take me to Taco Bell or something, it’s no longer an outing, it’s a kidnapping. Small business, all the way—except Chipotle,” she added. “I do like Chipotle.”

I chuckled, because I was the same way. Every time I took Mom out to eat and she wanted to go to Perkins, I died a little inside. I preferred supporting small businesses too. And why would you get something mass produced when you could try someplace unique? There are a finite amount of meals in this life and wasting one on something mundane when you have the means to have anything different is a travesty.

“Have you ever been to Badger Den?” Vanessa asked. “In L.A.?”

I had to stare at her for a second. “You know about Badger Den?”

She looked at the front of an envelope, holding Grace against her chest. “I’ve been on their waiting list for two years.”

I blinked at her. I couldn’t believe I was sitting here talking to somebody who knew what Badger Den was. In Los Angeles, sure. But in Minnesota? The exclusive, invite-only, secret-location pop-up dinner had been on my bucket list for as long as I could remember. “I’m on their waiting list too, but I haven’t gotten in.”

She smiled. “How about we make a pact. If either of us gets into Badger Den, we’ll take the other as our plus-one.”

“You have a deal,” I said, a little too quickly.

“Of course, you’ll have to fly there. They only give you a few days’ notice.”

“I drive very, very fast.”

She laughed, setting Grace back in her swing. Then she grabbed a yellow manilla envelope and pulled out a package of sponges. She squealed. “Yeeeees! Yes yes YES!”

I cocked an eyebrow. “Sponges?”

She smiled down on them in her hand. “I did this segment on small things you can do to make you happy. Clean sheets, warm towels out of the dryer, fresh flowers in your bedroom. A new sponge.” She looked up at me. “It is amazing how restorative a new sponge is.” She got up. “I’m giving you one.”

“A sponge?” I asked, twisting to watch her walk to the kitchen.

“Yup. It’s going to change your life.” She unwrapped it and set it on the sink, tossing the old one. “It’s like a spiritual cleansing. A cosmic reset.”

“A sponge…” I deadpanned, giving her an amused look.

She looked like she was about to reply, but someone started pounding loudly on a door in the hallway. Vanessa peered up past me toward the banging. “That sounds like my door, doesn’t it?” She walked from the kitchen, undid the bolt lock, and poked her head outside. Then she looked back in at me, her face etched in worry.

“I have to go. The police are here.”





CHAPTER 8





THE POLICE SHOWED UP

AND WHAT HAPPENED NEXT WILL BLOW YOUR MIND!





VANESSA


Can I help you?” I asked, leaning halfway out of Adrian’s apartment.

The officer looked over at me. “I’m looking for a Vanessa Price.”

“I’m Vanessa.”

He glanced at a clipboard. “Do you own a white 2018 Kia Rio?”