“He thinks he’s a rescue dog,” Mel explained as she leaned an elbow on the bar.
“Dogs in the canine unit don’t have anything on you,” Russo said. Benji gave a single approving bark.
“Flattery will get you everywhere with him,” Mel said. Russo gave the dog another scratch behind the ears.
“Shall we grab a table?” he asked me as he straightened. I nodded. He lightly guided me with his hand on the small of my back, and I allowed it. I couldn’t deny the touch was a bit of a thrill as he led me away from the bar to a small round table with two chairs in a remote corner.
I felt all eyes on us as Russo pulled out a chair for me. I sat in it daintily, and he pushed it forward as if I weighed nothing at all. Russo flashed a grin at me.
“I guess next time we meet for a drink, I should bring a stick to bat away all your admirers,” Russo said, nodding back to the bar.
“Oh, they’re not admirers,” I said quickly. Jude was like another brother, and Gary and Bill were old enough to be my dad. And Stokes didn’t count.
“Sure they’re not,” Russo said as he glanced over at the bar. “How about I go get us a drink?”
“Yes!” I said, a bit too eager.A bathtub filled with tequila, please.I expected Russo to ask what I wanted, but he was already on the move.
“Be right back,” Russo said, stalking toward Mel.
Okay, then. Dealer’s choice.
I tried not to look over at Jude, though I stole a glance anyway. He met my gaze with a skeptical raise of one eyebrow. That single eyebrow said he’d clocked Russo and made a whole host of judgments about him. I didn’t want to know what they were, either. Then the church door opened and Kenzie Gordon swept in.
Did I mention how much I hated Lake Sanguis?
Kenzie wore a business suit and razor-thin heels my mom would’ve loved, her wavy blond hair down to her mid-back. How did she make those fake lashes look real? That’s what I wanted to know. Perfectly thick and separated, curled upward. Unnaturally long, but realistic all the same. Pageant makeup, I thought. She probably knew all the secrets.
Also, she was so tall and lean, with legs for miles. She made her navy blue suit look like something a Victoria’s Secret model ought to be wearing.
Russo, as well as every man in the bar, took note. They watched her as she scanned the bar and found who she was looking for: Jude. She went to him, and they hugged.
So,thiswas who he was meeting.
They seemed to be very friendly exes, indeed, as she threw herself into his arms for a hug that lasted several long seconds. Kenzie sat down on the barstool next to him and urgently began talking and gesturing with her hands. Then it hit me: Kenzie probably wanted to talk to Jude about the listeria outbreak at Gordon’s Frozen Custard. Jude was an expert in listeria and all things dairy, so that made sense. What didn’t make sense was how Kenzie seemed to be finding all the excuses in the world to touch Jude. On his arm. His shoulder. Even his knee.
Jude reached out and took Kenzie’s hand. He was consoling her. I might be watching a rekindling of their old flame in real time.
Russo reappeared, carrying two pints and blocking my view of Jude. I blinked and looked up. He set the beers on our little table and slid into the chair across from mine. “Thank you,” I said.
Russo shrugged. He flashed a smile at me. I sighed and reached for my beer.
“Why does the bartender call you Thin Ice?” Russo asked.
“I fell through the ice of Lake Sanguis when I was seven. Nearly died. Not my fault, though, because some jerk kid stole my mitten and ran out to the ice with it. And as a rule, I don’t let people get away with bad behavior.”
“You should join the force, then.” Russo flashed me a smile. “Did you drown that kid or what?”
I thought about Robbie Blythe, the snot-nosed cretin whose hobbies included eating glue and torturing me with endless taunts.
“Nope,” I said. “He got away with it. His family moved to Chicago right after. But since he didn’t fall in, I was the one who gotbranded with the nickname. Plus, everyone in town thinks it’s funny to call me Thin Ice because I’m always getting into trouble.”
“Like getting into a fight with the mayor?”
I nodded. “And that was his second go-round. We went to high school together,” I explained. “He got handsy at prom, and I broke his nose.”
Russo burst out laughing. “Good for you,” he said, chuckling. “Good for you.” His laugh died down as his eyes grew serious. “If I had been there, I would have broken his neck.”
Now it was my turn to laugh a little, though I wasn’t totally sure Russo was joking.
