Mismatch Read Online Free PDF

driving out for a secret tryst, or drug dealers meeting, or the town maniac bringing out his latest dead body to add to his collection in the attic.
    She scrambled out of the sleeping bag, doused the light, and reached for the rest of her six-pack of soda. If only she hadn’t left the hammer out in the yard, she thought as she tiptoed into the hall, her blood roaring in her ears.
    Wade loaded himself down with the camping equipment he’d hauled up out of the basement of Dr. Jameson’s house. In addition to a sleeping bag and a lantern, he carried a five-gallon jug of water and two pillows. A bag of peanut butter sandwiches was clenched between his teeth. He found his way up the steps by feeling with the toe of his shoe. The front door was closed. Since he couldn’t call out and his hands were too busy, he reached out again with his foot to knock. The old door creaked back on its hinges. He stepped inside and was immediately struck over the head.
    Bronwynn screamed as she brought the cans down, and Wade and all his gear went tumbling onto the floor. Then Tucker wandered in, walked on top of his master’s prone body, and began licking the orange soda off the back of Wade’s head.
    “Oh, no!” Bronwynn dropped to her knees and tried to see Wade’s face. He groaned and opened his eyes, wincing. “Are you all right?”
    “Just peachy.” He reached a hand up to swat at the dog licking his ear. Tucker climbed down and wandered away, grumbling in his throat.
    Bronwynn dashed into the parlor and returned with her lantern. Wade was still sprawled facedown, moaning. He looked up, blinking at the light. There were two Bronwynns, both of them wearing a wedding gown with a navy blue pullover sweater and pair of alligator wing-tip shoes.
    “Either I’m seeing double, or this is what’s known as a living nightmare.” He gingerly touched the back of his head. “You gave me a skull fracture. I think I’m bleeding.”
    She shined the light on the back of his head. “You’re not bleeding. That’s orange soda. I hit you with a six-pack—well, a five-pack, actually. I had taken one can out.”
    “Gee, thanks for holding back,” he said dryly, sitting up, rubbing through his sticky, wet hair at the small goose eggs the cans had raised. He dragged one of the pillows he’d brought along across the floor and tucked it behind his head as he leaned back against the wall. “You have a real flare for entertaining, Bronwynn. I’ve never been greeted in quite that way before.”
    “I’m sorry,” she apologized as she gathered up the gear he’d flung down the hall. Her soda cans had remained hooked together, but two were spewing soda like steam from an overheated radiator. She left them alone. “In a way, it’s your own fault, you know.”
    “You Orange-Crush my skull and it’s
my
fault?” He gave an incredulous laugh and rolled his eyes, then moaned at the throbbing in his head.
    “Yes. If you hadn’t spouted off about this not being a safe place to stay, then I wouldn’t have thought you might be an ax-wielding maniac, and I never would have hit you.”
    Wade pinched the bridge of his nose as his vision began to clear. “You know, I think I understood that. What a frightening prospect. I must have a concussion.”
    Bronwynn sat down on his rolled-up sleeping bag and stared at him with her elbows on her knees and her chin propped in her hand. “What are you doing here, Wade?”
    “A question I asked myself—not for the first time today.” How could she look so darn appealing in that ridiculous getup? Her makeup was gone, her mane of shoulder-length red hair looked like an unmade bed. The truly odd thing was she didn’t seem to care. Most of the women he’d known from Bronwynn’s side of the tracks wouldn’t have let the maid see them in such a state.
    “I thought you had so many better things to do.” She studied him as he squirmed a little, looking annoyed and sheepish all at once. He qualified as a definite