Dead and Breakfast (Fox Point Files #1) Read Online Emma Hart

Categories Genre: Contemporary, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Fox Point Files Series by Emma Hart
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Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92668 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
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I would deal with my apparently one-sided friendship—and my job—another day. For now, I was going shopping.

CHAPTER TWENTY

As much as I disliked it, I knew the greengrocers on the high street wouldn’t have everything I needed, so I had no choice but to climb into my car and drive to the bigger supermarket on the outskirts of Fox Point. Sometimes it was easier to just give in and get everything in one place instead of running to four different shops.

When I said I needed everything, I needed everything.

Mops, buckets, chemicals, a vacuum—literally everything.

Somehow, I made my way around the place, although I did get lost about twenty times. I didn’t know why these places were so big or why a supermarket needed two floors, but this one did, and it was a whole arse miracle that I’d managed to find everything I’d written on my list.

Okay, so it had been vague, and I’d just sort of grabbed one of everything in the cleaning aisle until I thought I had it covered.

Did I need three different types of toilet cleaner? No, but it was good to be prepared, and I didn’t know what scent I wanted for the all-purpose cleaner. Lemon? Spiced apple? Who knew?

I’d even bought carpet shampoo.

I didn’t have a carpet cleaner.

Again: preparation was key.

I, apparently, was prepared to open my own cleaning business.

I hauled the box of my shiny new vacuum cleaner onto its end in the trolley, put my foot behind the wheel to stop the damn thing rolling away, and did my best to get it out.

My best was not good enough.

“Oh, my God,” I muttered, huffing as I resituated myself for attempt two.

Attempt two went just as well as attempt one.

I really needed someone to hold this trolley. Knowing my luck, it would go shooting off into the car in the nearest spot to me.

“Do you need a hand?”

I paused and looked up at the guy who’d offered his help. I didn’t recognise him, but he was pretty damn good looking. Blue eyes, dark hair, clean-shaven…

“Oh, I’m fine,” I said with a smile. “But thank you.”

“No offense, but I’ve just watched you try and fail to get that thing out there about three times.”

I pressed my lips together. “All right, maybe I need a little help.”

He laughed and kicked something on his trolley wheel, then came over. “Here, I’ve got it. In the boot?”

“Please,” I said, stepping back and holding the trolley.

The guy eased it out with one easy swoop, and he deposited it into my boot, even going so far as to position it so the window wouldn’t break when I closed the door. “There you go,” he said, stepping back with a smile. “Isn’t your brake working on your trolley? These things aren’t worth the metal they’re made of, honestly.”

I blinked at him. “They have brakes? Oh, my God.”

“Yeah, didn’t you know that?”

“No, and now I’m wondering who the hell let me graduate to adulthood.” My cheeks burned with embarrassment.

Holy shit.

How humiliating.

He laughed. “Yeah, they’re the little things over the back wheel. Same as a pram, if you’ve ever pushed one.”

I pressed my hand over my mouth, then dropped it with a sigh. “Well, you learn something new every day. Thank you so much for your help—and the lesson.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He hovered for a moment, half-smiling at me. “Sorry, are you Charlotte? Charlotte O’Neil?”

“That depends on who’s asking,” I replied slowly.

“Shit, sorry. Shane. Shane Solomon. Steph’s staying with me.” He held out a hand, and I shook it.

“Oh, she mentioned you. Nice to put a face to the name.” I smiled.

He ran his hand through his hair, smiling a little awkwardly. “Sorry, I thought I recognised you, then saw you struggling with the box.”

“How did you recognise me? Have we met before?”

Welp.

Was that rude?

Maybe a little.

“Sorry, that was a bit rude,” I said quickly.

Shane waved it off. “Don’t worry. You’re having a right time of it, aren’t you?”

I grimaced. “That’s one way of putting it.”

“Your photo was in the paper, but it was an old one. From a summer carnival about twelve years ago.”

“Oh, no. Nobody needs to see that.”

“You haven’t aged a day, don’t worry.”

I laughed, putting the last of my shopping in the car. “I know you’re lying, but thanks. How is Steph, by the way?

“Somewhere between denial and relief most days,” Shane replied. “I just wanted to say thank you. She told me she’d spoken to you, and that was the happiest I’d seen her in a long time.”

“I’m surprised. It wasn’t the lightest of conversations.”

“I know, but Declan kept her isolated. She’s struggled to connect with anyone here, and that was one of the reasons I stayed.”

“Stayed?” I asked, leaning against the trolley.

He nodded. “We knew each other in college. I’m pretty sure she’s the reason I made it out of exam season alive.” He chuckled. “I moved away right after, and we lost contact. Then I came down here for a holiday with my family a couple of years ago at my mum’s insistence and ran into her. We got talking, and she confided in me how she was unhappy and had no contact with her family, and I decided to stay for a while.”


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