Kissing Roe is bad.Bad, Maggie, bad. But the way he’s studying my lips, the way his mouth cracks a fraction, it’s highly distracting.
Focus on the task at hand. That’s what I do. The goal of taking Zebulund down sits in my mind like an elephant on a park bench. But sometimes Roe and his stupid eyebrows that tell me every thought on his mind pop in uninvited. And his stupid lips that just beg to be sucked on. I’m not the girl who thinks about sucking on things. I’m the girl who’s set on taking down evil. That’s my gift to the world.
“How are you going to do that?” Roe asks me.
And I stare at him for what has to be a solid minute, not comprehending. Sorry, teacher, what was the question? In what was probably a fraction of a second, a thousand different ways of kissing him flash through my mind. Is that what he means? It occurs to me, before I speak, thankfully, that he’s talking about my plan.
“Well.” I point behind him. “The same guy with a dog has walked past the house three times since we’ve been talking.”
He looks toward the window showing the back driveway and the path leading to my house. He won’t be able to see anything. It’s on the little black-and-white TV that sits on the counter next to the fridge. It shows the front gate area. He’s not even being subtle, the stalker.
“How do you know he isn’t paparazzi?” Roe asks me.
“I don’t.” I shrug. “My gut tells me that a pap wouldn’t go through the pretense of pretending to be ‘man walking dog.’ In my experience, they tend to own their careers.”
“What does he look like?”
“I can’t tell. Low-quality video. He’s wearing a ball cap. Definitely a man, anywhere from eighteen to eighty.”
“Oh, good. Solid start,” he says dryly.
“The dog is cute, if that helps.” I cock a half-grin. “Some sort of retriever.”
“To recap: we’re looking for an average-sized man with a medium-sized dog.” His eyebrows creep lower.
“See, won’t take me long to track him at all.”
“Wow, you really are a great reporter.”
We share a laugh and the tension is broken. Why hasn’t he tried to kiss me? I mean, not that I’m sure I could even handle it, but it’s throwing me off. There’ve been so many times this last week where I really thought he wanted to. But he hasn’t. It has me questioning all my man-reading vibes. Maybe Zebulund destroyed that too? A cloud covers any good mood I’m feeling.
“You go about your business tonight.” I double down, refocused. “Make sure I can come with you this weekend, and I’ll track your stalker.”
“I have a premiere tonight.”
“Oh.” I’m a little dumbfounded. He has an actual career as an actor with obligations outside of our shared missions. “Right.”
“It’s forDartango. Big money. Big names, lots of glamour.” He’s got coy eyebrows, both slightly raised and flirtatious.
“Mr. Roe, are you asking me out to a movie premiere?” I admit for a minute that my heart races at the idea. But then the image of a hundred flashing cameras. The exposure. The questions. The Googling of “that girl on Roe’s arm.” My palms itch.
Thankfully, he saves me from a total panic attack by saying, “No. Not you. Get over yourself.”
I let out a relieved guffaw.
“Jeez, you really had a moment there.”
“Heh.” My finger twirls around the ends of my hair.
“I have somebody else in mind.” His eyebrows bounce rapidly in excitement.
* * *
Mrs. Jenkins stopsat the top of the spiral stairs and we all gasp. She turns her head and extends one sparkling arm, giving us time to truly soak in her appearance. Roe jogs up to meet her. His stellar form is emphasized in a tuxedo cut perfect for his body. He’s magnificent but Mrs. J. steals the show. She glows. Her entire being lights up from joy.
I bite my tongue to keep the burning in my eyes at bay. I never wanted to kiss Roe more than at this moment. Mrs. J. hadn’t taken long to choose an outfit. Any other woman would’ve been hours, but she was done getting ready soon after Roe made his announcement. It’s like her entire life of over-dressing each morning culminated in this moment. She had an outfit picked out on the off chance this would be the day she got to wear it out of the house. I have to stop that train of thought because it causes my throat to constrict.
“You look amazing.” I clasp my hands to my heart like a starstruck fool. I can’t help it.
