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ARIZONA
A local farmer has trained his pigs to perform ballet.
I’m going to see their production of swine lake.
* * *
Isat at my desk at the museum, staring into my half-empty cup of coffee. And yes, I was having a pessimistic kinda day. I hadn’t realized how hard it would be to go to work and be forced to leave the men in my apartment.
I’d been praying all day that Albert wouldn’t figure out how to get out of the spare room while I was gone. I could just imagine the news frenzy that would happen if Rez went full T-Rex and destroyed half the apartment building.
That wasn’t even my only worry at the moment. My leg bounced, the anxiety needing an outlet, and I swiped my sweaty palms down my dark jeans. I’d had a meeting with the board of directors that morning, and I wasn’t exactly sure where I stood with them.
I’d gotten the distinct feeling they’d have loved to fire me on the spot, but they couldn’t risk it. They were in a sticky situation until the investigators figured out what had happened in the storeroom. I could guarantee they wouldn’t figure out the truth. That meant whatever they wrote as the cause would be false. And that made me nervous.
But until the board members had the detectives’ final report, they couldn’t fire me. If I caused the damage, and they could prove it, I knew that not only would they fire me, but I would face legal and criminal action as well. The city frowns upon detonating bombs and the demolition of buildings without proper permits.
However, if I was innocent, then I could sue them because they hadn’t provided proper security, and I could have been killed. Not to mention they’d be forced to cover any long-term medical issues I might have.
I had exactly zero plans to pursue anything legal against the museum. There was no way I’d be able to live with myself since I knew what really happened.
It wasn’t my fault. Not exactly. But it also wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t been there that night… if my magic hadn’t been activated, and my dino mates hadn’t awakened and released havoc on the building.
Basically, both the museum and I were innocent bystanders in this whole situation. I wasn’t an idiot, though, and I didn’t think that it was in my best interest to tell them that. So, for now, I had an uneasy truce with the directors.
Unfortunately, the questions hadn’t stopped after my meeting with the board. My coworkers had been eager to hear all the gossip about what had happened and were greatly disappointed to learn I didn’t remember anything. Now, they were back to ignoring me. I suspected they’d picked up on the directors’ annoyance with me and didn’t want to risk my bad luck rubbing off on them. Who could blame them?
But it was making for an even lonelier morning. The only bright spot had been the constant stream of people coming to the museum, which had kept me busy. The news about the suspected bombing had spread, and rather than people steering clear, they’d decided that today was the day they should visit the museum.
There were a lot of disappointed people when they realized that the areas that sustained damage were off-limits and weren’t open to the public. Not even for a quick peek.
Seeing my next tour group making their way toward me, brochures and tickets in hand, I pushed to my feet. Their eyes were eagerly peering around the museum, trying to spot signs of anything out of the ordinary.
Pasting a smile on my face, I greeted them cheerfully and led them through the museum, falling into the memorized spiel I used with every tour.
Eventually we reached the part of the museum that displayed our complete dinosaur skeletons, dino teeth, pieces of dinosaur eggs, and of course, Coprolites, a.k.a. dino poop. As we entered the room, a tall man caught my eye.
Shut the front door!
It was Detective Jack Oliver.
What was he doing here? There was no way this was a coincidence.
The man was stalking me. All right, to be fair, he could have been at the museum checking for damage, and I was the prime suspect slash victim in his case. But why was he in part of the museum which had sustained zero damage?
Oliver turned, and our eyes met. Smiling, he lifted his hand in a small salute.
I tried to remind myself I should be angry that he was spying on me, but his smile was turning my insides into goo, and my heart thudded out a happy beat as though excited to see a lover. Which was a serious problem since he wasn’t, and I needed to avoid him.
Ignoring his friendly gesture, I focused back on my tour group. An older gentleman raised his hand, asking several questions. Thankfully, the museum prepared us for the most common questions visitors might ask, and I answered his questions easily.
While I was speaking with the inquisitive older gentleman, a movement along the wall behind him caught my attention. Standing against the wall were two broad-shouldered men.
Two men, who I distinctly remember telling to stay in the apartment.
Why were they here? This was not good, not good at all! After dinner the night before, I’d gone on a quick shopping spree and bought them the essentials. Looking at them now, I couldn’t deny that they looked sexy in their dark wash jeans, their muscles bulging under their vintage-style T-shirts. I wasn’t the only one who thought so, either. A group of women were making a show of looking at the exhibit right next to Rez and Zon, trying to ‘accidentally’ brush against my men.
I was about two seconds away from stomping over to them and making a scene that would have gotten me fired when Zon and Rez moved down the wall and into the shadows, carefully avoiding the women. The rapid pounding of my heart began to slow the moment my men were an arm’s length from the women. I hated this irrational jealousy, but it seemed like I was unable to control it when it came to Zon and Rez.
