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"Sure." He never released her from his stare. "I ran out of IPA. In my house, that's cause for a full temper tantrum."
Luther frowned. "What's IPA? Some kind of file code?"
"It's beer. Good beer."
Luther looked just as disappointed in him as his instructor did, and damned if he didn't feel even better at the dual reactions. Yeah, he was twisted.
Her lips tightened, but she never let the obvious annoyance seep into her tone. "I'm thrilled this session helped, Officer Petty." She emphasized his title so subtly it was like a graceful sweep behind the knees. Quiet but deadly. "I'm looking forward to hearing more on your lightbulb moments in the future. For now, that's it, gentlemen. I'll see you tomorrow afternoon."
She rolled to her feet in one graceful motion, turned her back, and began gathering her things.
Stone gritted his teeth and stood, refusing to show he felt stiff and achy. The bastards next to him seemed fine. Maybe they had kids they sat on the floor with regularly. He needed to get a nephew or a niece or something.
He watched her hurry out the door, enjoying the swing of her tight rear. Her license said five eight, but he pegged her as being a bit taller. Those legs could wrap tight around a man's hips and squeeze so hard he'd probably pass out in pleasure. Of course, once her mouth opened he'd be resuscitated and dragged into hell.
Too bad.
Maybe he'd shoot some pool with Devine tonight. If he was gonna be suspended, he sure as hell wasn't staying at home, bored out of his mind. Since he couldn't have a smoke, he'd stop at Dunkin' on the way and get his favorite chocolate Munchkins. He'd bring some for the guys at the station and see if he could sniff out a good crime someone needed help on. Like who purposefully mixed the recyclables up with the trash.
Stone headed out.
"POPPY, WHAT ARE YOU doing here?"
The bungalow was filled with the scents of onion, grease, and comfort. She laughed at the doggy attack of squirming fur and crazy tongues, then dropped to the floor in surrender while she hugged her fur babies. The stress of the day eased from her shoulders. Dorothy was so right. There was nothing quite like home.
Her grandfather walked over, spatula in hand, and shook his head. "You got your hands full with these monkeys, honey," he said. "Decided to walk them and surprise you with dinner. Unfortunately, I think Mike got hungry early and raided the kitchen. The garbage was torn up and scattered everywhere."
Arilyn groaned. "I thought I locked it up! I was running late and forgot. I need to get one of those big cans with the lid. Hey, how'd you know it was Mike?"
"Because Lenny was already chewing on your sneaker."
Great. She always shut the closet, but Lenny had become smart enough to use his paw to drag it open to find the treasure. Damn, she'd loved those new Skechers. She wagged her finger at both puppies. "You two are in big trouble. No Frosty Paws ice cream tonight."
Lenny scampered up her legs and licked her ear in a sloppy apology. She giggled and scooped him back to the floor. "Sorry you had to clean up, Poppy." She rose to her feet and gave him a hug. The familiar scents of Irish Spring soap and Old Spice surrounded her. After her parents passed, Poppy had become her rock. The only stability left in her life, he gave her structure, shelter, and love. He made her laugh with his wild streak, penchant for fun and gambling, and advice to live large or go home trying. So like her mother, until cancer had eaten everything decent and good within and spat it back out.
He was dressed in his usual uniform of brown pants, white shirt, and sturdy leather shoes polished to perfection. The black tattoos of the memories of his fallen comrades in Vietnam climbed down each arm. A cross and a name. Eight of them. She used to sit in his lap and study the tats for hours, fascinated by the detail and boldness. Though painful for him, he used to tell the story of the war to keep the memory alive. So no military member or person fighting for his or her country would ever be forgotten again.
He lived in a cozy brick house filled with interesting antiques, old movie posters, and an attic bursting with trunks full of old clothes and photos. She'd get lost up there for hours when she needed a connection with her parents, poring over her family heritage ripped away from her too soon. Poppy was tough and smart. He aged with a grizzly endurance that taught her to appreciate life in all forms and stages, good and bad, old and new, giving her hope that each morning would bring a surprise. He'd owned a small auto repair station for years, content to spend his days under the hood, where the memories of war and what he'd left behind faded under the turn of a greasy wrench. He'd taught her a bit about cars and how to take care of herself. Arilyn used a lot of his techniques and turned it toward computers. In some ways, mechanics were the same: there was a larger picture where everything finally fit. The journey was half the fun.
He'd been a handsome man, with piercing green eyes and a full head of silver hair that competed with thirty-year-olds'. Sure, his face reflected a map of deep wrinkles, his teeth were no longer his own, and his hands had been gnarled by a touch of arthritis, but Poppy was still her rock.
When they diagnosed him with type 2 diabetes, she realized he couldn't be alone any longer. He needed to be monitored, and living two hours away wouldn't work. He was the one who agreed to give up his house and move closer to her. The Best Friends Center in Verily was the perfect fit. The center boasted a lively crowd, with bus trips, group activities, and a certain amount of independence. Besides spending more time with him, he'd be able to keep up his social calendar.
Unfortunately, he was having a hard time fitting in.
"Hey, it's Tuesday night. Why aren't you at bingo?"
Those bright green eyes shimmered with outrage. "They won't let us gamble. Tried to get a pool going, and Elmer Fudd ratted me out. What good is a game if you can't bet money?"
"Who's Elmer Fudd?"
"You know that fat guy with the bald head and pudgy cheeks? I always think he's gonna tell me he's been hunting wabbits."
Arilyn pressed her lips together. "It's not nice to call people fat, Poppy."
"Everything's so PC nowadays."
"How about trying to concentrate on the thrill of winning without money?"
"Boring. Bingo is lame anyway. Hey, is there a way to hook up an iPod in my room? If I have to listen to Dean Martin or Frank Sinatra play on the speakers for one more minute, I'm gonna puke."
This time she did laugh. "I can't trust you with an iPod. We've already gone through three cell phones before I cut you off."
He shot her an innocent look. "How was I supposed to know the HOTGIRLS party line cost a dollar a minute?"
"You're incorrigible. What are we having?"
"I made a stew. Potatoes, onions, and the veggies you love. Mine has meat, yours doesn't."
"Hmm, smells delicious." She lifted the Crock-Pot lid and took a sniff. "Did you go to the organic butcher shop for the meat? They're grass fed and use humane techniques with their animals."
"Yes, honey. But I think if you took half the amount of effort to find men as you do food, you'd be married already." The touch of sympathy on his face made her squirm. She'd done a complete turnaround of her life after her mother died. Death suddenly became real, and Arilyn decided not to become a drain on the world with a large carbon print and nothing to show. Dedicating herself to finding true inner peace and quality health, she sought a path her Poppy never understood but had learned to accept. He didn't know about her latest breakup with her lover, because he'd never met him or heard her speak of him. No wonder he was worried. Probably thought she hadn't dated in years.
She shook off the thought and spotted the bottle. "Poppy, alcohol isn't good for you." She pointed to the Guinness on the counter, but he waved her off.
"Beer is. Just heard it on the news. Something about the fermentation or wheat. Just one, A. I had a hard day."
Her heart softened. He was so full of life. The idea of not having him around for another twenty years terrified her, so she always tried to balance her motheri
ng instincts with the knowledge that he also needed some vices. She danced around the pups tumbling at her ankles and took out a full bottle of white wine. Guess she had her own vice.
Arilyn began setting the table. "I had a bad day, too," she confided. "Started an anger management course."
"Another job? Can you handle all this?" Poppy spooned out the stew into two bowls and settled at the counter. "What about Kinnections?"
"My shifts are flexible. I usually enjoy running these classes, but there's a cop in my class who's a bit challenging."
"You mean he's a jerk?"
She nodded. "Yeah, he's a jerk. He's so arrogant! And he has this sneer-smirk thing he probably thinks is sexy, but it's really annoying."
"You'll keep him in line. After all, he's in the class for instruction on managing his temper, right? By the time you get done with him, he'll be a changed man."
His confidence in her abilities soothed her nerves. She picked up the spoon and took a bite. Heaven. Her family had pure Irish roots and besides making a mean soda bread, Poppy was great at stews, soups, and his famous corned beef and cabbage. He'd almost cried when she became vegetarian. "Yeah, I guess."
"I know. Cops are a funny bunch. I respect the hell out of them, but their job makes them a bit hard-core. Imagine the type of circumstances they run into on a daily basis. Would probably piss me off, too."
She fell quiet, thinking over her grandfather's words. He was right. Stone had his own issues to work out. He may be difficult to deal with, but if she was able to help him perform his job in a more peaceful manner, it would be worth it. He may mock her, but she believed in the tactics she taught. She'd just have to prove it.
"Thanks, Poppy."
"Welcome, sweetie. I'll walk the dogs for you until you finish up class. No need to rush home when I can help out."
She held her tongue, knowing he needed to be busy just as much as she did. "That would be wonderful."
