“Thought I’d go ahead and make room for that big ass fire truck blow up that you bought. You were running out of room,” he pointed out.
“I didn’t buy a firetruck blow-up,” I grumbled. “And how do you know about that, anyway?”
“Because your box was delivered to my house, thanks to your switching my sign around. I figured since it was delivered to my porch, I could open it.”
My eye started to twitch. “Opening someone else’s mail is illegal.”
“Taking someone’s food order that isn’t yours is illegal, too. Yet you didn’t seem to have a moral compass last night,” he interjected.
He did have a point.
Goddammit.
“Whatever.” I turned around and left, flipping him the bird as I went.
“You know this is the season for giving, right?” he called out. “It shouldn’t be all about you.”
I didn’t fall for his shit.
Instead, I walked back to my place and wondered what in the hell I was going to do to get back at him.
I was still stewing on what I should do a half hour later when my doorbell rang.
I peeked out of the hole that Doc had installed to “make sure there’s not a fuckin’ psycho on the front porch” and saw a man holding a bag of food.
This, I decided, would be how I’d get kidnapped.
Someone holding out food to me and telling me “delivery.”
“Hello,” I said much the same as last night. “Can I help you?”
“Delivery for Jasper?”
I smiled. “That’s me!”
He handed it over and left without another word, allowing me to look down and see tonight’s spoils.
Mexican again.
What the hell was up with this man’s love for Mexican food? Didn’t he eat any other cuisines?
I mean, damn, Mexican was divine. However, I couldn’t eat the same damn thing every night.
And sure enough, when I opened the bag, it was the same damn food as last night.
“Jesus Christ, Jasper,” I grumbled. “How about you expand your palate a little bit?”
I’d just dipped my food into the queso when my doorbell rang.
I looked up and smiled when I saw Jasper standing at my door, glaring at me through the side window.
The cheese that I’d just dipped my chip in oozed over the sides of my fingers, and I hurriedly shoved it into my mouth.
He poked the glass with his finger and said, “What the fuck?”
I grabbed another chip and dipped that one in hot sauce.
He reached for the door handle and I squealed, taking the bag of food and myself right out the back door.
