“So you haven’t heard of it?”
“No. Should I?”
“No. I mean, I guess not.”
“What sort of books?”
“Gay books.”
Neil snorted. “No shit, Sherlock.”
I stuck the fry in my mouth, smoothed out the flyer, and hesitantly offered it.
Neil took the paper. After a minute, his gaze rose to meet mine. “Romance books?”
I shrugged.
“Since when do you read romance?”
I shrugged again. “Since opening the Emporium and meeting Beth, I guess.”
“When we were dating?”
I nodded.
“Huh.” He passed the flyer back and indicated to it with a nod of his chin. “You going, then?”
“It’s in St. Louis.”
“Is St. Louis romantic?”
“The Midwest doesn’t exactly conjure up feelings of true love,” I answered, folding the paper, leaning to one side, and slipping it back in my pocket. “More like… corn.”
“There’s more there than corn.”
“Jesus billboards, maybe.”
“I meant,” Neil began, and that stressed patience was back in his tone, “you could make a vacation out of it. The convention is right around Valentine’s Day.”
“But then I’d have to tell Calvin why I want to go toMissouri.”
“I think he’d probably want a heads-up, yeah.” Neil picked up a second taco before raising an eyebrow. “He doesn’t know you read romance books?”
“Let’s talk about something else.”
“Why are you embarrassed?”
“I’m not.”
“You’re a shit liar.”
I picked up my burger and took a huge bite. Too big, in fact. I had to chew with my mouth partially open.
Neil grimaced. “I can’t believe you’re married.”
“Neither can I,” I mumbled around the food. After swallowing, I said, “Did you know, after the Bones case, the media gave me a nickname?”
“Did they?”
