Page 7

So now, for the past eight days, the mason jars that always sit next to Bruce’s cash register here in Perks and Rec are labeled with BECKETT and LAWSON.

Bruce hasn’t changed it in eight days. He always changes them. There’s a new poll almost every day around here. Sometimes it’s which actor was the better Spider-Man. Sometimes it’s apple pie: better a la mode or naked. But now, suddenly the entire town is able to focus for more than a week, voting every day on who has the better stalker.

Which is bad enough because it’s nosy as hell, but now it also requires Beckett and me to report on what our respective admirers have brought us most recently.

I will admit that Beckett has definitely done a good job at making the case for his. Though the “better” criteria is still fuzzy.

“You have to admit I have a point,” Patty says. “Everyone knows about Beckett’s crush, and everyone agrees Andi is amazing, but this girl is really going for it anyway. She should get points for that.”

“That could just mean she’s crazy,” Alex suggests. “You know those people who are confident, even though they can’t really back it up?”

I shoot Beckett a look with an arched brow. He totally gets it and flips me off.

I chuckle. Yes, Beckett Moore is incredibly cocky about everything from his looks to his sense of humor to how he plays hockey. But I have to admit, he can back it up. All of it.

“Okay,” I say, leaning in slightly and already knowing that it’s possible getting deeper into this conversation might be something I regret. “But mine is actually making me things. She’s spending time and energy to create things she brings to my house. Beckett’s girl is just buying stuff and dropping it off.”

“You’re actually trying to make a case that chicken and rice casserole is better than dropping off her favorite body wash and telling me that she can’t wait to get dirty with me and then use it in my shower after?” Beckett asks.

I grin. I haven’t actually had chicken and rice yet, but I’ll bet my girl’s recipe is amazing, and I can’t wait. Still, I nod. “I am. Mine is taking care of me. Thinking of me the entire time she’s shopping and cooking. She might be eating the same thing she brings to me and imagining us having dinner together. It’s nurturing and caring.”

“Yours is mothering you,” Beckett laughs. Then he suddenly sobers. “Oh!” He sits up a little straighter. “Instead of being best friends doing this project together, maybe it’s a mother and daughter. Think of it, you could end up as the stepfather to my girl. You’d kind of be like my father-in-law.”

Everyone around the table starts laughing, and even I’m grinning.

I like this feeling of camaraderie with Beckett. Maybe we’re not quite at friendship yet, but considering that a year ago he was swinging at me during a hockey game, this is a very nice change.

I know I’ve been working on it, and I think maybe he has, too. This hockey team is important to both of us not only because we just came off a very successful season that made a lot of people in our town happy and brought a lot of commerce to town, but also because it resulted in some great friendships among our teammates. It helps the team a lot if Beckett and I can get along. I appreciate that he understands and takes that seriously too.

“Wait, you think these two women are friends?” Nora asks.

She’s smiling, and I almost roll my eyes. Nora would love it if everyone in the world was friends.

When I first met her, her sunshiney ways did cause me to roll my eyes on a regular basis. Now, I am either used to it, or maybe I realized that having more sunshine in my life is a good thing.

I shrug. “That just makes sense. Our…deliveries…started around the same time. It started about the time the hockey season kicked off. They deliver stuff on the same days. It would almost be weirder if they weren’t doing it together, wouldn’t it?”

“What if it’s the same person?” Wes asks.

“Oh no, it’s…” Beckett trails off.

We look at each other.

That’s one theory we haven’t discussed.

“Can’t be,” I finally say. “The stuff is too different.”

“Because you are different,” Wes says. “She’s bringing stuff that Beckett likes to Beckett and stuff Lawson likes to Lawson.”

Beckett squints and shakes his head. “I really like lasagna.” He nods. “I mean Sutton makes amazing lasagna, but if a hot girl who wanted my attention brought me cheesy pasta, I wouldn’t be mad.”

“And I’m guessing Lawson likes skimpy panties,” Alex says.

Everyone looks at me.

Jesus.

Of course I do. But the thing is…the woman who is stalking me isn’t the skimpy panty type.