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* * *
“Here, Monticello. Here kitty,”Reed yells, crouched behind the dumpster as I gag, trying not to hurl from the smell of rotten seafood. I’m not sure if the smell is actually coming from the dumpster or from inside this place.
I cover my nose with my sleeve. “If Monticello knows what’s good for him, he’ll pick a bit of a classier place to dumpster dive. Shit, this place stinks.” I cough, Reed still searching around the dumpsters for the cat he’s convinced is here. Looks like Monticello has finer tastes than this.
“What are you two doing back here? Do I need to call the police?” a voice bellows from behind me. I turn to see a man in an apron splattered with all sorts of food standing in a doorway. I put my hands in the air in a sign of innocence, as if he’s the police. This only makes me feel more idiotic.
“Just looking for a missing cat,” Reed says smoothly, coming over to stand beside me.
The guy, sporting a moustache that is enviable if not a bit over-the-top, rolls his eyes. “Yeah, you and everyone else on the block. Never seen a damn search party so big for a freaking cat. There have been seven people back here today looking for some cat, hoping for some reward or something. Honestly, what, is the cat the Pope’s or something?”
“Better. Sage Everling,” Reed replies.
“Who?”
“Never mind,” I say. “Sorry for trespassing. We’ll be going now.”
The man wipes his hands on his apron and returns inside, muttering something about no-good tourists.
“Well, I think he needs to work on his charm a bit if he wants Michael’s to take off,” Reed says, wiping his hands as if he’s ridding himself of Michael’s Crab Shack
“So now what, master cat finder?”
Reed sighs. “I really thought this was our lucky break.”
“Well, you heard Michael or whoever that guy was. There’s already a search party in full force. I’m sure someone is going to beat us to finding the cat.”
“Someone’s a bit cynical.”
“Realistic. Now, how about we head to Midsummer Nights, get ourselves a drink, and let someone else do the work.”
Reed is glum as we walk toward Midsummer Nights. “There goes my lovely bag or sneak peek at the men’s line.”
I shake my head. “All this for a bag? Wow.”
He jabs me in the ribs, grinning. “All this for a woman? Wow.”
“I was just helping you. This wasn’t about her.”
“Keep telling yourself that, darling,” he says, grinning as we walk toward the restaurant, hands in our pockets, the summer sun blazing.
* * *
“Where have you two been?”Levi asks, sitting at the bar when we return.
“What are you doing here? Don’t you have a business to run?” I ask.
“Same goes for you,” Levi replies as Lysander slides him a beer. “I shut down for the day. Wanted to give the staff a break. Jodie’s working on her latest book at home, so I thought I’d come to my second favorite place.”
Reed and I both grab a stool at the bar, and Lysander slides us each a drink as well.
“If we’d have known, you could’ve come with us. I bet with all your rodeo skills, you’d be perfect at wrangling him.” Reed takes a swig of the beer, winking at Lysander.
“Wrangling who?” Levi asks.
“Monticello,” Reed replies. “We needed a wrangling expert or a freaking miracle to find it.”
“Why do you two smell a little weird? No offense,” Lysander says now, shriveling his nose up.
