"And ham and sausages and potatoes." He grinned at me, and I had to lean over and kiss him, because he was just so ridiculously adorable.
Then he had to kiss me back, and so it was nearly five minutes later when I finally climbed out of the truck. Jack hopped out to walk me up the steps, despite the many times I'd told him he didn't need to, and I was just turning around to say something over my shoulder to him when a pinging noise swooshed past my right ear.
And then my hanging flower pot exploded.
But I was already on my way down to the floor, with Jack wrapped all around me, and his terse "gun" ringing in my ear.
"Stay down," he growled. Not that I'd had any intention of jumping up and making myself a target.
"Why would anybody be shooting at us this time?"
I realized my life had gotten out of control when I had to ask a question like that and add "this time" to the end.
"I don't know, but I'm damn well going to find out." He lifted his head and closed his eyes.
Then he jumped up, pulling me with him. "One person. Running. Let's get you inside."
I unlocked the door, scared for Lou, but she was calmly sitting on the back of the couch, washing one paw.
"She'd never be doing that if a stranger were in the house," I said, putting the box down on a table and rushing in to pick up my cat and cuddle her.
"I know. Stay here, lock the door, and call the sheriff. Please." With that, he ran for the porch, took a leap clear over the steps, and landed on the lawn already transformed into a quarter ton of deadly purpose.
Jack as a man was a force to be reckoned with.
Jack as a tiger was a force of nature.
I locked the door, kept the lights off and moved back from the window, and pulled my phone out of my pocket. Deputy Andy or Sheriff Susan?
Susan was probably exhausted from dealing with Vern and then this recent development with Lorraine. So I pulled up Andy's number.
He answered on the second ring, sounding sleepy. "Tess? What's wrong?"
"I'm sorry to bother you, Andy, but somebody just took a shot at me. Or at Jack. Or both of us."
"Are you hurt?" The sleep was gone from his voice. "Do you need an ambulance?"
"No. No, we're fine." I realized I was shaking and took a long, slow breath to calm down. "Sorry. I'm a little scattered. They only took out my flower pot, though. My Caladiums are probably history, though."
"What? Your colosseums?"
"Caladiums. My flowers. Listen, Jack is chasing somebody now. He heard one person running away. But we don't know if the running guy had a partner who is still hanging out, so I'm in my house with the door locked. Do you want to come out or should we just report it in the morning?"
"I'm on the way. Tell Jack not to rip anybody's arms off in the meantime," he said, only half-joking.
"I can't promise anything," I said honestly. "But thanks. See you soon."
I hung up and then realized I hadn't even asked if he'd been with someone. He might have had a hot date. It was Saturday night, after all. Normal people had dates and dinners and family outings, not possessed music boxes, clues to old murders, and people shooting their flower pots.
Suddenly as shaky as Lorraine had been, I sat down on the couch with Lou and let her warm, purring calm wash through me. I don't know if it was a delayed reaction or shock, but the next thing I knew, Jack was tucking a blanket around me where I was stretched out on the couch.
"Hey, sleepyhead." He brushed a strand of hair away from my face. "Whoever it was jumped into a car and got away before I could get close. Andy took the pot and the bullet with him for evidence and said to tell you he's glad you're okay."
I struggled to sit up, feeling groggy. "Andy? What? Is he here?"
"No, he came and went. If it's okay with you, I'd like to stay, though. Just in case our shooter comes back."
"Maybe this is a good sign."
