“Going for ice cream again?”
My co-worker’s question stopped me on the way to the stairs. She eyed me over her black frames, her dark hair piled on top of her head in a messy updo.
Gina was observant. Too observant.
“It’s so good, you know?”
I was doing too much. I knew it. There was no need for me to spend so much time on this case, and I didn’t need to see them yet again. Marcus could provide updates over the phone, but I couldn’t help myself. Nor could I stop the familiar tingle in my chest each time they arrived. Little Noah and his Uncle Marcus had captured my... notheart. Myattention.
“Want me to bring you back an ice cream?” I asked, knowing full well she was severely lactose intolerant.
“I can’t, but thanks for asking.”
“Sure.”
I carefully descended the stairs, today wearing heels and a figure-hugging taupe dress that clung to my derriere enough to show it off without being improper. I had no businessdressing like this, but a part of me wanted Marcus to notice. I was fairly certain he was already interested, but I couldn’t be sure.
I shouldn’t care. Any man withRomeoon his license plate should be kept at a distance, but it wasn’t my fault I was developing a crush. Did he need to come for ice cream every day this week? Probably not. But I was glad he did, and I suspected he didn’t mind Noah’s addiction to the dessert, either.
I was out the door and standing in front of the building approximately thirty seconds before Marcus pulled up and parked nearby, the way he had done each day. Excitement tightened in my chest at the sight of his blue Rav-4.
“Calm down,” I muttered to myself.
He opened the driver’s side door, and I expected to see his usual jacket and dress shirt. Instead, my mouth fell open as I watched him go to the back door. Moments later, an energized Noah jumped onto the sidewalk and raced toward me in his red tunic, yellow cape, and yellow utility belt, his eyes bright with joy behind the mask.
“Look, Miss Julia!”
Coming behind him with a slow but confident walk was Marcus Hayes—in a full Batman costume.
I pressed my fist to my mouth, trying hard not to laugh. He had the body to carry it off—broad shoulders, long legs, and muscular thighs. But the black cape, the purple bodysuit, the mask, and the bat symbol on his chest werea lotfor a Friday afternoon ice cream run. He looked ridiculous yet completely adorable.
I rested my hands on my hips. “Well... Gotham’s finest has made an appearance.”
Noah looked at his godfather and then looked at me. “Uncle Marcus is Batman. We’re a team!” he exclaimed.
“I see. This is quite an interesting look for you,” I told Marcus.
He shrugged, the left corner of his mouth quirking upwards in a slightly embarrassed smile. “Robin said he needed my help, so I couldn’t leave him out here fighting crime all by himself. I had to have my man’s back.”
Now I understood. Noah had asked him to wear the costume, and he had obliged. The fact that he’d done so at the boy’s request was very endearing.
“Very noble of you, Batman.”
“All in a day’s work,” he said, adjusting his cape with exaggerated flair.
I burst out laughing then. “Tell me you wore this all day.”
“All damn day. From the time I dropped him off until now.”
“All damn day!” Noah exclaimed.
“No, you don’t say damn. That’s a grown-up word, okay?” Marcus said.
“Okay,” Noah said, sounding defeated, as if not being able to say a curse word was the worst thing ever.
“Ready for some ice cream?” Marcus asked.
“I sure am.” I led the way across the street to the park, and we made our regular trek to the ice cream truck. Each day this week, Noah had tried a different flavor. So far his favorite was Rocky Road.
