Page 80 of Dancing in the Dark

“People bake cakes every day, Chief. Even the most experienced baker messes up sometimes.”

“If I start bleeding out of my eyeballs, I promise to call you.” She pushes up and kisses the underside of his jaw. “You have a guest, Detective. Did you not even notice yet?”

He peeks over his shoulder and meets my eyes, then with a grin, he looks down at her again. “I noticed. But he’s not really a guest, now, is he? He’s more of a temporary resident, a casual blow-in. He can come and go as he pleases. So long as he doesn’t climb into my bed, I really don’t give a fuck.”

“Weird, because I think the same about Aubree.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm. Except she climbs into our bed sometimes, and no one ever stops her.” She twists out of his arms and wanders around to grab a to-go coffee cup from the cupboard above the machine. “Why is that, anyway?” She shoots a dangerous glare across at Harrison and lifts a brow. “Isn’t it your job to save me from these situations? Why don’t you stop her?”

Aubree Emeri… The Timothy Malone the Third’s wife?

Turns out she can do whatever the fuck she wants.

“Oh, hey Detective.” Aubs pops up on my right and grins as I startle. She considers me for a moment, her bright blue-eyed stare narrowing, then her smile broadening. “Mmm. I like this.” She gestures up and down. “You enjoyed your evening.”

“Is that a question?”

“Nope.” She softly claps my stomach, then continues into the kitchen and brushes her fingertips over the ball of Archer’s shoulder. “Morning, everyone. Can I get some of that coffee too, Minnie? I’m desperate.”

“Get your own damn coffee. And don’t call me Minnie.” Minka caps her cup and heads across to Harrison. “What’ve we got on today? Is it someone’s birthday and I’ve forgotten?”

“No, Chief. But it’s my brother’s birthday in a few days, so I really should get something in the mail for him.”

“Your brother? I’m not sure we’ve said more than five words to each other, ever.” She swings wild eyes across to Archer. “Do I have to buy him something, too? This is too much.” Back to Harrison. “We just had Aubree’s birthday. And Tiia’s before that!”

“And Raquel’s,” Aubree quips. “She’s mad you didn’t get her a balloon arch.”

“She’s got a job! She can buy her own damn balloon arch.” She marches back to her husband and opens her mouth wide. “It’s gone, see? I swallowed it. I didn’t die. I’m going to work now, okay?”

“Mmhm.” He grabs her face and draws her in until their lips clash. “Don’t stress about Stovic’s birthday. He’s in New York. Therefore, he’s Felix’s problem.”

“Good.” She plops one last kiss on his jaw and circles away to scoop up her bag, then spinning again, she moves to Steve, the wrinkled, saggy, decrepit old man, and wraps him in a fast side hug. “No swimming. Tell me what your doctor says after today’s appointment.” She pulls away, only to soften like melted butter as he drags her in and presses a kiss to her cheek.

“By the time I’m allowed to swim again, it’ll be too damned late in the season, and I won’t be able to.” He eyes her in a way that reminds me of the old guy in the Dennis the Menace movie. Bushy eyebrows and all. “Surely I’m all healed up now?”

“Perhaps.” She flashes a dimpled smile and oh-so-gently pats his chest. “Which is why I asked you to tell me what your team thinks. I’m out of here. Aubree, let’s go.”

“Mmhm.” She frantically snatches down a to-go coffee cup and fills it with steaming liquid. “Coming, I swear.”

Minka starts this way, the front duck in her little Mighty-Duck formation. “Are we still not allowed to ask about the Fifi thing? Honestly? The excitement is wearing off, so by the time you say it’s okay, we won’t even care anyway.”

“Kinda like how an old man wants to swim,” Steve grumbles. “See how frustrating that is?”

“She came over last night and cooked dinner with Mia.” I drop my hands into my pockets and grin. “There. I talked about it.”

“So brave of you.” She rolls her eyes. “I heard that dude from the port authority was her ex. The one who slapped his private parts with Miranda London’s private parts.” She casts an unhappy glare back at Archer. “I have no clue what kind of man would debase himself so. One who suffers from low self-esteem, I suppose. Or desperation.”

“Why are you picking at me?” He scoops Chloe, the snow-white, slutty cat Minka loves to hate, into his lap. “I thought we were getting along? I thought we were happy, Minnnka?”

“Residual anger.” She brings her fiery glare back to me. “Did you and Miranda Licentious ever bump uglies?”

“I should hope not.” Aubree darts to the fridge and snatches out a carton of creamer. “Fifi will skin him alive.”

“We did not. She was never really my type.”

“Which is so weird, because back in your slutty era, I thought all women were your type.” Minka’s eyes glitter with taunting mischievousness. “I’m pleased to see you’re a reformed man now.”