(Oh my God, that isnotwhat I meant.Get your mind out of the gutter.)
“It’s always something new with you,” Deputy Bobby said.
“Trust me, I know.”
“It’s not a bad thing.”
“Oh, it’s definitely a bad thing.Who else gets sucked into investigating a smuggling ring run by the Golden Girls who also happen to be using a local craft fair as their cover?”
His real grin, the big, goofy one, flashed out again, but his tone was mock-serious as he said, “Well, you’re a hero.”
I snorted.
“You did a good thing today,” he said.“You helped a lot of people.”A hint of the goofy smile came back.“And you solved the case of the missing ice cream cone.”
“That was the only part I really cared about.”
I’d meant it as a joke, but it fell strangely flat.He was still looking at me.He didn’t do anything.Nothing happened.But somehow, suddenly, everything was different, and something about how he was looking at me made the bottom drop out of my stomach.I scrambled to find something to say, and the best I could come up with was “We make a good team.”
Deputy Bobby arched his eyebrows.
“Fighting crime,” I said.“Stopping bad guys.”
He made a soft, small noise that could have meant anything.
And then Ireallyhad to say something because it felt like the conversation had turned into quicksand.I heard myself babbling, “You know, you’re like the brawn.Well, and the brains.”
He made that little noise again.
“And I’m—uh, I’m like the frosting.”
His mouth twitched.He leaned closer.I could smell the sweetness of his breath, the hint of chocolate from the ice cream.His hand cupped the side of my face, and his thumb brushed lightly across my cheekbone.
My lips parted.I leaned forward.I didn’t let myself think about it.
Listen: I’m a human being.And, at that, a very stupid one.
And then Deputy Bobby sat back, held up his hand, and displayed an eyelash on his thumb.His expression was unreadable, and for a time, neither of us said anything.I could still feel the way his hand had felt, cupping my face, and the pleasant friction of his touch.The sound of the ocean rolled into the space between us, and a gull wheeled across the sky.
Then he smiled and said quietly, “Make a wish.”
New Neighbors
This story is set beforeDude Magnet.
1
It started off as a whim.I spotted the pamphlet (Hastings Rock Tourist Guide) on a rack near the door when I was leaving the Keel Haul, loaded down with groceries.
Okay, with snacks.
I grabbed a copy because I thought, hey, why not?I was planning on staying here—at least for a while—and maybe I’d learn something interesting.
And then, the next day, an idea came to me.And it seemed silly.I laughed it off.I went back to work on the next draft of my latest story (“A Scandal in the Pines”—but I hated that title, so I’d probably change it).And then, about five minutes later, because it was extremely important, I stopped writing and started cleaning the window tracks.All the window tracks.In the whole house.It wasn’t OCD, in case you’re wondering.It was just a massive case of procrastination.
But that night, as I was trying to findMurphy Brownon one of those illegal streaming sites (don’t tell Deputy Bobby), the idea came to me again.And this time, I thought, why not?
So, the next morning, I dug around in my dresser until I found something suitably appropriate.I found a Hawaiian shirt.I found plaid shorts.I said a silent prayer for the Dash of Days Gone By who had, for whatever reason, decided to buy and keep these clothes.I even found a pair of Birkenstocks.It was a sunny day in late June, the sky like a flash in a mirror, and I figured the odds were good that, in my shorts and Hawaiian shirt, I’d probably be perfectly comfortable for about fifteen minutes until the weather changed and I was freezing again.
