Nico and I look around, peeking through the windows, but we don’t find anything.
“Well, the coast looks clear,” I say once we finally clear the whole house and the backyard. “Maybe it was a cat? I saw one run by when we got here.”
Mrs. Willow narrows her eyes at me. “What color was it?”
“Umm… black?”
“That damn Billy. He probably lost his cat again. It always comes here to accost my Pumpkin.”
Don’t even go there, I coach myself.No way in hell.
“Well, if that’s?—”
“Since you’ve already made the effort to come all the way here, why don’t you stay for a glass of sweet tea?” She shoots us a smile. “My recipe won a medal three times at the county fair!”
“That’s very nice of you, Mrs. Willow, but we can’t do that while we’re on duty.”
Mrs. Willow purses her lips. “Always working so hard, Nico.” Her gaze slides to me, and she squints at me over the top of her glasses. “I’m not sure I know you, darlin’.”
I clear my throat. “Matthew Williams, ma’am.”
Her thin gray brows rise. “The one who got away?”
Of course she’d know that tidbit. I guess I should count myself lucky that she didn’t mention my troublemaking days, which is one of the more common comments when people see me these days.
“That’d be me.”
She purses her lips, still eyeing me critically. “You single?”
I’m pretty sure my eyes bug out at her sudden change of topic.
Before I can even gather my wits, she continues, “Cause I have a granddaughter who’s looking for a husband.”
“Granny!”
We turn around at the sound of a high-pitched voice to find a woman standing in the doorway. She takes in our little group before fixing her attention on her grandmother, crossing her arms over her chest. “Please, for the love of God, tell me you didn’t call the cops again.”
“I had a reason this time!” She lifts her chin. “I heard a noise.”
“You know damn well that’s probably Billy’s cat. I told you I saw it running around again.”
Mrs. Willow harrumphs. “Must have forgotten it. Comes with age, something you’ll realize very soon yourself, young lady.”
Mrs. Willow’s granddaughter—who’s probably in her late-forties—shakes her head, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You’ll be the death of me.” Letting her hand drop, she gives us an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry about that.”
“Don’t worry about it; we’re always happy to make sure our residents are safe,” Nico tells her, always the charmer.
We excuse ourselves and make our way out of the house while the two of them still discuss Mrs. Willow’s tendency to set her granddaughter up on a date with any man she happens to run into.
Wait, that means…
I turn to Nico just as he bursts into laughter. A full-on, tears in his eyes, belly laugh.
“You fucking set me up,” I hiss, pointing my finger at him. “You fucking knew what would happen, and you set me up.”
“Of course I knew what to expect; this is Bluebonnet Creek. But, damn, your face…” He shakes his head, still laughing his ass off as tears gather in the corners of his eyes.
Fucking asshole.
