Page 19
“Stop talking,” I whisper when Bobbi and Arch are within hearing distance.
Lawton’s gaze hooks into mine. What do we do? it says.
See? This is why you plan things.
You’re right, Sabrina. I’ll make a flowchart next time. Great idea!
At least that’s how I choose to interpret his contemptuous scowl.
“Oh my gosh,” Bobbi says, panting when she reaches us. Her sunny curls have fallen loose from her high ponytail. “Are you okay? Please tell me you’re fine. I took a CPR class one time, but we only practiced on dummies, and do you know you’re supposed to break ribs? I can’t break someone’s bones. I can barely—”
“Bobbi, sweetheart,” Arch interjects with a hand on her shoulder, dark strands falling loose from the bun at his neck. “Focus.”
“Yes. Sorry. Focusing.” She puts her hands on her cheeks. “Do I need to call nine-one-one?”
Lawton dusts off his jeans. “I think we’re good. No scratches or broken bones. Sorry about the fence.”
“So sorry,” I add, plucking a chicken feather from my hair. “We’ll pay to fix it or you can take it out of our security deposit.”
“Ah,” Arch says, realizing something. “That must mean you’re our guests. What an arrival, huh?”
“Oh! Shit. Please don’t sue us.” Bobbi giggles. “I mean, I do know a good attorney in town, but she mostly does divorces. And… this is so bad, but she was sleeping with one of her client’s husbands before the divorce was final. Not a girl’s girl. But also, she kept her Firefighters of Wyoming calendar permanently flipped to April on the shirtless guy with the eight-pack, so I feel like there’s probably more to that story.”
Okay, this girl can talk. That’s fine. I can be bubbly. I love champagne almost as much as I love oversharers. They make my job easy.
Arch snaps his fingers with the quiet confidence of a man who’s used to people listening to him. At once, the dogs’ heads jerk. “Rocko. Winston. Back in the yard, boys.”
That’s all it takes, seven words, nothing else. The dogs trot back toward the fence line while I scan Arch’s clothing for anything off. His flannel sleeves are rolled to his elbows, and the glasses on the bridge of his nose are askew. He looks like he’s about to ride his fixed-gear bike to the bait-and-tackle store, not commit a crime.
Why does someone want him followed?
Bobbi cups her hands around her full lips. “Yeah! And no chicken dinner for you, boys! We need those eggs for breakfast now that Mr. Reeves stopped selling his at the Saturday market.”
She turns to me in the next breath. “His chickens had the best yolks. So yellow they were orange. But then his wife passed and he kind of stopped tending to the chicks. I keep meaning to help him out, but I already hate cleaning one chicken coop, much less two. I always tell Miss Tilly down the street that she wouldn’t need to be on that ridiculous diet if she helped me clean out the coops. All she eats is smoked salmon and—”
Arch squeezes her shoulders, cutting her off, which is a shame. I was kind of invested in that story. “I love you, babe, but you need to stop talking about other people’s business. It’s gonna get you in trouble one day.”
She plants a kiss on his cheek. “But Miss Tilly tells everyone who sits next to her at Dicky’s Diner that she’s—okay, okay, I’ll stop. Don’t give me that look, Arch. Anyway, I’m Bobbi. Your overtalkative host.”
“It’s so nice to meet you, and I’m sorry about all this,” I say, as sincerely as I can muster. “Seriously. We can repay you for the fence or take you out for an apology dinner.”
Bobbi gasps. “Yes! Dinner. We should absolutely do dinner.”
This is going better than I thought. Normally, I’m not a fan of people who walk around like they swallowed a rainbow, but her sparkly personality is refreshing after dealing with criminals who only communicate through grunts and glowers.
Lawton claps Arch on the back like they’re old roommates and not two strangers. “Dinner sounds great. Really sorry, again. I thought I saw a squirrel in the road. Didn’t want it to be roadkill, so I overcorrected and hit the fence.”
Lawton rubs his neck, playing up the innocence to perfection. I bet that’s why Katya broke up with him. She was smart enough to see through his act. That dress looks great on you. I never text my ex. No, I’ve never strangled someone with a lasso.
“You should see the squirrels in the town square,” Bobbi says. “They’re so cute. They get chun-ky because they won’t stop chomping on leftover fries. Anyway, are you absolutely sure you’re okay? I can call nine-one-one for you and your husband.”
Husband?
What if we were cousins? I’m about to say hell no! when Lawton blurts, “Appreciate it, but my wife and I will be just fine. Nothing a good soak in a tub can’t fix.”
My smile sinks, slowly melting off my face.
Did he…
