“It’s a pleasant peace offering. You could have gotten her flowers. You could have gotten her treats. But this…this is what will lead her to making a good decision like accepting your proposal.”
Another Rupert gem of an idea.
Not that I have room to complain about his ideas. After the branch incident, once again, I couldn’t think of anything to gather her attention, but Rupert seems to have a whole list. I told him I couldn’t come up with anything because he whipped me too hard in the head. Not sure he believed that one bit.
I stare down at the basket filled with tequila, margarita mix, limes, salt, and margarita glasses in the shape of cacti. “The only way she can make what you consider to be a good decision is if she actually drinks it.”
“That’s why you’re going to make one on her porch and hand it to her.”
“That still doesn’t ensure that she will drink it. For all we know, she’ll toss it back in my face.”
“That’s a risk I’m willing to take,” Rupert says.
“Glad you’re willing to take it.” Straightening up, even though I feel less than confident about this idea, I knock on her front door and hope for the best.
When the door goes unanswered, I knock again.
And again.
And again.
We know she’s in there—we’ve been running surveillance from our yard, making sure she hasn’t left. Rupert grabbed thebasket of supplies while I kept watch. So unless there’s some secret escape route, she’s in there.
“Ring the doorbell. That will get her out here.”
I press the doorbell, and it chimes inside the house.
We wait.
A few more seconds…and nothing.
Wow, she’s stubborn.
“Keep ringing it,” Rupert says.
“And annoy her so much that she wants to punch me?”
“Sure, then maybe she’ll feel sympathy again because she punched you, and also, maybe she’ll have greater respect for you because you were able to take a punch to the nose.”
“Think she’ll go for the nose?”
Rupert nods. “Absolutely. If there is one thing I know about this woman, it’s that she’s a nose puncher. I could see it in her eyes.”
“Then get the ice pack ready.” I press my finger to the doorbell again, and keep ringing it, over and over and over until…
“What?” Renley says while flinging the door open, startling me half to death.
Jesus, I was so concentrated on the doorbell that I didn’t hear her angry footsteps charge toward me.
Trying to slow down my racing heart, I say, “Oh, wasn’t sure you were in there.”
“So you just kept ringing my doorbell and knocking?”
“Always want to be sure before taking off. Anyway, I brought you a gift.” I hold the basket out to her. “I remember reading in your profile that you like margaritas. Maybe we could brew some up, have a few out here on the porch.”
“No,” she answers.
“Okay, before you turn down the idea, I thought I’d say?—”
