“He’s on the force. He’s serving a god. He’s a part of a government agency that I’ve never heard of, which totally freaks me out. But yes. He will.”
“Good.” She bumped my shoulder again. “I’ve always thought he should know. I’m glad he’s a part of all this now.”
“Even the god thing?”
“Maybe not the god thing. He’s not really going to start bossing us around about rules is he?”
“Not if I can help it.”
“So where is the man?”
“Bertie has him doing something around here.”
We walked down between tents, keeping one eye on the big screen and the skaters. The trucks had split up and stopped at their first neighborhoods. The split screen showed blues and reds skating up to front doors navigating stairs, grass lawns, dogs, kids, toys, and steep inclines.
The crowd cheered every time a delivery was successfully completed, and laughed when skaters tumbled or managed to miraculously get where they were going without falling down.
I held my breath as Myra worked her way up a rickety three-story stairway at one of the hotels to the crow’s nest apartment at the top. She handed over the bag of goodies then methodically walked down the stairs, one hand tightly gripping the banister.
“Well done,” I whispered as her teammates gave her high fives, then hopped into the truck for the run to the next delivery spot.
I glanced at the red team and they seemed to be making good progress too, most of their bags and boxes already delivered. It wouldn’t be long before they were headed back to the finish line.
We’d made it to the end of the row of tents and turned the corner to walk up the next row.
I stopped short, and Jean let out an “Awww....”
Ryder sat bent forward, painting a little girl’s face. Her back was toward us, but I had a good view of Ryder.
He’d brushed his hair back, and applied some kind of product that kept it out of his face but didn’t look heavy with gel. He was talking with the girl, smiling, his hands steady as he delicately applied paint to her face with a brush that looked like it was something a professional artist would use for oil painting.
His face was caught in a shower of colors. Flowers, butterflies, and a little winged fairy with a sword created a mask across one side of his face. Frogs, superhero shields, and a robot created the other side of the mask. Lightning, storm clouds, and a flying saucer peeked out on the edges of the mask, as did ocean waves, a message in a bottle, and a listing pirate ship.
It was an amazing paint job, and should be overwhelming and cheesy. Instead, it looked like an homage to Ordinary, as if he knew all its secrets and had found the beauty in them.
He straightened, tipped his head slightly to consider the painting on the girl’s face, then grinned and handed her a mirror.
She shrieked in delight. Her parents gave suitable “oohs” and “ahhs” when she turned to reveal the sparkling unicorn with a Supergirl cape painted across her chubby cheek and forehead.
The unicorn was wearing an umbrella hat.
Of course.
The girl and her parents ambled off. Ryder saw us and stood.
“Can I interest you in a new look?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Think I’d make a good superhero?”
“Nope. I already know you would.”
Jean stuck her fingers in her mouth and made gagging sounds. “Get a room you two. I don’t want to watch while you draw her like one of your French girls.”
He smiled, his eyes lit with glee. “Don’t know that it’s appropriate to talk the chief of police out of her uniform before noon.”
I raised an eyebrow. “It’s noon somewhere in the world.”
“Well, then.” His voice dropped into a sexy drawl, and he wiggled the paintbrush between his fingers. “Maybe you and I should go somewhere...”
