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They nodded. "Sorry lady. It won't happen again."
They gathered their equipment, got back in the truck, and pulled away. Shaking with fury, Arilyn tried to breathe, couldn't, then gave up altogether. She marched next door and stopped at the bottom step. "You lied to me," she said.
"I'm afraid for my life," she hissed. "When that tree falls on my roof and crushes me in my sleep, it will be too late."
Arilyn tried not to roll her eyes. "It's not even close to your roof," she pointed out. "You would've gotten me in big trouble with Genevieve."
"I need to protect myself. Besides, what are you doing in there?" She squinted over her glasses with suspicion. "I see that strange altar. Do you sacrifice things? Are you into witchcraft?"
Her body trembled with pent-up frustration. She had no time for this. "No, Mrs. Blackfire, I meditate. And you shouldn't be spying."
"I'm looking out for the neighborhood. I'm the one who caught the vandalizer over the summer. You should be grateful."
"I'm sure Gen is. I have to go." She turned and almost bumped into Poppy. "Ready, Poppy?"
Her grandfather didn't move. Just stared at her neighbor. "Who are you?" he finally asked.
"Joan Blackfire." She peered over her glasses. "Who are you?"
Poppy smiled and held out his hand as if he were asking the queen to dance. "Patrick Flynn. Arilyn's grandfather. Why are you cutting down her tree?"
Her neighbor muttered something under her breath, staring at his outstretched hand as though it were a bomb. She slowly took it and gave it a short shake. "Because it's diseased. Are you living here now?"
"Tree looks fine to me. Does bend to the right a bit, though. I'm visiting. I live at the Best Friends Senior Citizen Center. Do you know it?"
She gave a grunt. "Place makes poisonous Jell-O and serves Ensure with every meal. Plus, their road trips are stupid."
Arilyn's grandfather beamed. "I totally agree. Hey, want to come over for dinner? I'm a great cook and promise no Jell-O. Or fake shakes. We're having burgers and sweet potatoes. Arilyn doesn't eat meat, so there's veggie burgers there if you want."
Arilyn blinked. Huh?
Mrs. Blackfire snapped her gaze around. "What's wrong with meat? God put animals on the earth so we'd eat them."
Arilyn bristled. "We've evolved since then. No reason to ingest bad animal karma into the body."
"Ridiculous. The body needs protein to function. What do you eat?"
"I eat from the earth," Arilyn said stiffly. "I also use soy protein as a substitute."
Poppy shook his head sorrowfully. "It tastes really bad, but she's free to make her own choices."
"What about sugar?" Mrs. Blackfire frowned. "Everyone needs sugar."
It was confirmed. She'd stepped into the Syfy Zone and would soon be involved in the zombie apocalypse. Her neighbor from hell was questioning her food choices after trying to cut down her tree illegally. "I avoid refined sugar and keep to natural ingredients. Dried and fresh fruit. Dark chocolate. Whole grains in cereals."
"So who drinks all the wine you take out to the curb?" Mrs. Blackfire asked. "You don't drink alcohol?"
Her grandfather spoke up. "Oh, no, she drinks plenty of alcohol."
Arilyn fought off a blush. "Red wine helps the heart," she said.
Poppy tilted her head. "You like those cosmos and martinis," he pointed out. "And lots of white wine, too."
Mrs. Blackfire gave a knowing humph. "Knew it. The recyclables never lie."
Okay, she'd had enough. She tugged at her grandfather's arm. "Umm, we'd better go in."
"Are you joining us for dinner, then?" he directed toward her neighbor. "Maybe we can sort out this tree problem. Neighbors should get along." Arilyn held her breath, heart beating madly, praying for just one tiny, itty-bitty break in her crappy week. Of course, Mrs. Blackfire would never agree. Her neighbor hated her, and Kate, and her whole crew. Lenny and Mike would probably howl as if they'd seen a ghost, sensing her dark, innate evilness.
"Yes, I'll be over in a minute. Just need to lock up."
"We have dogs!" Arilyn burst out. "Lenny and Mike are very misbehaved. Puppies. They're still learning, and I know how you dislike dogs."
"Why wouldn't Joan like dogs?" Poppy asked with confusion.
"I never said I hate dogs," her neighbor snapped. "I don't like them doing their business on my property and ruining my roses. I'm fine with dogs."
No. No, no, no, no . . .
Poppy lit up, looking ten years younger. "Wonderful. Looking forward to getting to know each other better. Let's go, Arilyn."
Arilyn's mouth fell open.
He walked away, and she followed in a fog. Then he patted her arm. "I'm quite disappointed in you. Not inviting your next-door neighbor over is horribly rude. Why don't we open that bottle of champagne you've been saving? It's a special occasion." With a light step, he walked inside, humming under his breath.
A shudder broke through her. She gripped the turquoise crystal around her neck and tried to absorb some of its healthy, clearing energy. Why was this happening to her? What had she possibly done in her previous life to deserve a neighbor from hell, a broken relationship, and an annoying, sexy cop?
Arilyn sighed and prepped herself for the long night ahead.
STONE CAREFULLY SCREWED THE caps back on the two Coke bottles and breathed a sigh of relief. Perfect. It had been way too long since he last attempted such a classic practical joke with soda and Mentos, and even had to YouTube the steps, but now he was in business. He headed over to McCoy's desk first, placing the bottle on the right-hand side and quickly tossing out the half-empty one.
"Whatcha up to, Petty? Aren't you still on suspension?"
He turned around. Sergeant Tim Dunn was nicknamed Make It Work Dunn, in honor of Project Runway's host. Of course, this drove him apeshit because the host's name was really Gunn. To Stone and the others, it was close enough. Dunn gave him a suspicious look. And well he should. Stone slouched and sneered. "Just looking for McCoy. Wanted him to check on a speeder. He's going to court in my place. Here, want this? I'm ready to piss like a racehorse, I've had so much Coke."
He shoved it in Tim's hand like he didn't give a crap. Tim took it. "I'm a Pepsi man, but sure. Thanks. Hey, we're having some problems with the rookie."
Stone lifted a brow. "Patterson? What's up?"
Tim rolled his eyes. With his cropped blond hair and Irish red cheeks, he was the scrappy sort, with a mean hook that could knock a guy on his ass in two seconds flat. "He's got a stick up his ass. OCD sort. Organizes his locker, paperwork, desk. Don't care if he keeps it to himself, but he's starting to piss everyone off. Trying to get Jessica to alphabetize the callins by last name and shit. Then told McCoy his paperwork wasn't up to snuff."
The dispatcher, Jessica, didn't like anyone to tell her how to run her desk. When she got pissed, the department felt the heat. And criticizing a higher-ranking officer was just not done. Stone shook his head. "Bad news. What do you want to do?"
Tim grunted. "He likes his locker so damn much, let's move it where he can see it easier. Like outside."
A juvenile glee zipped through Stone. There might be only about seven people working in the department, but they were tight. Newbies needed to learn when they went off course, and the right practical joke put them in their place and made the point crystal clear. "Let's do it. He's on night shift, right?"
"Yep."
"Good. We'll put it by his car. Upside down, of course."
"Of course."
They both chuckled. "I'll stop back. Heading to the g
ym. See ya."
"Later, dude."
His hand had just pushed open the door when the sound of Dunn shouting and cursing hit his ears. Guess he had opened up his bottle early to a total explosion. Grinning, Stone walked faster. Yeah, the classic jokes were the best.
He was in a good mood the whole way to the gym. Changing into his shorts and tank, Stone headed toward the weight room and started with the bench press. When his shoulders revolted a bit as he pushed up, he was reminded of the hellish Salutation to the Whatever routine Arilyn was always putting him through. Unbelievable. Who would've thought yoga could be such a workout? He made a note to see when the next Pilates class was. Time to stretch out so he could stop embarrassing himself in front of her. She seemed wickedly satisfied every time she caught him trying to hide a wince.
Stone settled into reps, working each core muscle until it ached. He'd learned when he was a skinny, too-tall delinquent that knowing how to fight and defend himself was key to survival. From both the streets and his father. He'd kept up a strict routine of lifting and running, so he'd always be able to either flee first or do damage to his opponents. When he'd met Ellen, that part of his past fascinated her in a dark, shocking way. She used to shiver and tell him a bit of violence was sexy.
Yeah, real sexy. Sure, the testosterone was a rush, but waking up in a blur of pain and blood just wasn't that hot. Even if you were the one putting the other guy there.
Stone gritted his teeth and began on squats. If he was honest with himself, he'd admit Ellen's background was also a turn-on. She was so different from him, all classic elegance begging to be messed up, and boasted an easy childhood with no ghosts. Since she worked as an executive assistant to a banker, she wore conservative suits and high heels and perfect makeup. She was gorgeous and confident. Attracted to her flirtatious manner and fun sense of humor, he'd dived headlong into an affair, and on impulse, he asked her to marry him. Surprisingly, she said yes. Had they even exchanged deep "I love yous"? Talked about the future and children? No. They'd both figured everything would work out, because neither of them was a planner or too interested in analyzing tomorrow. In a way, they were too alike ever to make it.
Maybe that's why they ended up married and engaged so fast. The first hit of something new and fresh probably turned them both on. Of course, after the fun ended and his work ate him up and spit him back out, she wasn't as turned on by that side of him.
