Four Little Problems

“She takes a really long shower.” Jason nodded toward the boxes Patrick held. “And hates pizza.”

“Oh.” Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea. He was tempted to turn and leave. But remembering how much trouble he’d caused for Emily, he knew he had to try. “I’ll just wait out here on the steps, then.”

Jason shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

The door slammed in Patrick’s face.

Patrick surveyed the front porch. It was tidy, but bare. No comfy glider where he could park his rear. So he sat on the front step, the cold seeping through his Dockers almost immediately.

Ten minutes later, he hoped maybe Jason had been exaggerating.

Fifteen minutes later, he realized the pizza was stone-cold and he’d lost all sensation in his nose. His stomach rumbled. He figured the pizza couldn’t possibly get any colder and placed the boxes on the steps. He stood, rubbing his arms to warm them.

Twenty-five minutes later, Patrick rang the bell again.

“What?” Jason’s tone was belligerent when he opened the door.

“Surely, your mother is out of the shower now?”

“Nope. Told you she took a long shower. Why don’t you just leave.”

Why indeed? Because it had become a contest of wills. He would see Emily tonight if it killed him. And, if the temperature dropped any more rapidly, that was a very real possibility.

“I c-can wait.” He clamped his mouth shut to stop his teeth from chattering.

“Yeah, sure you can.” As the door swung shut, Patrick could have sworn he heard Jason call him a loser.

His pulse pounded. He had the urge to yank the door off the hinges and give the kid a piece of his mind. But he was here on a peacekeeping mission and yelling at Jason would hardly break the ice with Emily. He merely needed to harness his anger. Shrugging, he figured anger was probably a good thing—it’d keep his blood pumping and keep him from freezing to death.

He jogged in place, slapping his arms to increase circulation, for what seemed like hours. Patrick was about to concede defeat when headlights sliced through the night and Emily’s van pulled into the driveway.

“That little SOB,” Patrick swore through clenched teeth.

CHAPTER FIVE

EMILY PULLED INTO the driveway, wishing for the zillionth time the garage was uncluttered enough to actually house the car. A glance toward the dark porch confirmed that Jason hadn’t had the forethought to turn on the light for her. Sighing, she turned off the engine. It had been one heck of a long day.

She went around to the back of the van and opened the hatch. Grabbing several grocery sacks, she headed for the door.

“Need some help?” A male voice startled her. Peering into the gloom on the porch, she thought she detected a familiar form.

“Patrick, what are you doing here?”

“P-pizza. Peace offering. I’m sorry I got you in trouble.” The poor man appeared to be shivering. And his attempt at making things right made her view him a little more kindly.

“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”

“Yes, I did. Let me help you.” He took the groceries from her hands.

Ah, score more points for the science teacher. Emily was rapidly getting over being miffed at him for dragging her into the disk caper. “You look half-frozen. Why in the world didn’t you go inside?”

“Um, Jason said you were in the shower. No guests allowed while you’re in the shower.”

Emily slapped her hand over her mouth and groaned. “And you’ve been out here how long?”

He didn’t meet her eyes. “A few minutes.”

She got the impression it had been a lot longer than a few minutes. “I think Jason was being a little too concerned with the rules tonight.” She should be dancing a jig because he remembered them at all. But Jason’s selective enforcement suggested his adherence had been out of spite, not obedience.

“Which rule is that?” Patrick asked.

“The one where I asked the boys to tell people I’m in the shower when they’re here and I’m not. That way, some whacked-out stranger doesn’t know they’re home alone.”

“Whacked-out stranger. Thanks a lot.”

“Not you. A hypothetical stranger.”

“Ah. So Jason was only following instructions?”

“I’m sure that’s what his defense will be.” She opened the door with her key. “Come on in, if you don’t mind being subject to World War III. Jason and I need to discuss a few things.”

“I could stay out here till you’re done.”

“No way. You already look chilled to the bone. Besides, why should I have all the fun?”

“Fun?”

“Oh, yes. Two can play at this game. Watch and learn.”

His smile was bemused. “Lead on, oh great one.”

She stepped into the entryway and called, “I’m home.”

Jason came around the corner as if he’d been waiting. His eyes narrowed as he saw her companion. “Hi, Mom.”

“Hello, hon. Would you go get the rest of the groceries?”

“Um, sure.” He sidled past her as if he scented danger. He’d probably expected yelling and accusations. Heck, he’d probably hoped for yelling and accusations. The child seemed to thrive on chaos.

But she had way more in her arsenal than that. Emily turned to Patrick and winked.

He tilted his head to the side, but didn’t comment. Instead, he said, “I’ll go grab the pizza before raccoons haul it off. Luckily, pizza nukes fine.”

Emily touched his arm. “Patrick, it really was thoughtful. And I’m sorry Jason treated you so badly.”

“No problem.”

But his tense shrug told her it was a problem. And that made Emily sad. Jason would pay for mistreating her friend, and he would pay dearly.