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Seventy
DIAMONDS IN THE THICK OF IT
Ophelia
The redheaded waitresscrosses her armswhileheavily exhaling, acting as though I exasperate her. “Look, lady. I’m trying to save you and your unborn child any unwanted attention. So, take the hint and get up and walk out, and don’t look back.” She forces a smile, which looks more like an impatient snarl.
“Ophelia, I called for police assistance,” Mack says in my earpiece. “They have a car in the area. I’ll let you know when they arrive, and then the police will take over.” Mack is an ex-detective for the San Diego Police Department, so he knows how easily things can go south with extra players on the chessboard.
“I haven’t paid for my last two cups of tea.” I pull out a twenty-dollar bill. “Here. Please, go pay my account for me while I pack up my things, and you can keep the change as a tip.” The redhead is satisfied I’m listening to her and walks away.
I hear the front door swing open.
“Damn it all to hell!” Mack mutters in my ear. “Ophelia, Tu—”
“Sugar-cake! I’m heeere!” the newcomer hollers loudly in an exaggerated Southern drawl, yet familiar voice.
Tucker?
My heart dances about in my chest like butterflies at a rave.
I cover up the look of surprise on my face because I can’t break the pattern with the role I have created, so I grin like I am bursting with love, which kind of feels right.
“I told him not to go rogue,” Mack grumbles in my earpiece.
What the hell? How long has he known Tucker was here?
The guy I like-a-whole-lot is blocking the front door with his arms spread wide dramatically, wearing what looks like Mack’s Magnum PI getup—because it is. He’s known to use the disguise: a loud Hawaiian shirt unbuttoned over a T-shirt, a black cap, and sunglasses when out on a job when I worked for Mack & Cooper.
Tucker should never dress like that in public, but it oddly suits Mack.
But why are his forearms bandaged?
His eyes sweep me up and down and then up again, taking his time hovering around my cleavage as though drawing it out deliberately as I move slowly toward him.
Tucker crosses his arms. “M-m-mm, I do declare; you are looking mighty scrumptious this afternoon, babykins—”
Heart flutters.
“—I am sorry for the late arrival, my beautiful bubble butt.”
Oh, how I’ve missed this man.
And then Tucker takes it one step further. In his fake Southern drawl, he starts singing loudly with swaying hips the first few verses, followed by the chorus of “Afternoon Delight” by Starland.
I’m trying hard not to laugh, so I put a hand over my mouth and continue my role-play by giggling like a girly girl while my quirky Southern beau serenades me.
The four other people silently watching Tucker’s ridiculous shenanigans will be hoping he will quickly remove me from the café so the extortion demands can continue without witnesses.
It’s like a jolt of electricity is thrumming through my heart seeing him after all this time. All those feelings just skyrocketed in flight.
I want to kiss him, but now isn’t the time.
“Sugar-cake, I can see you missed me because you’re staring at me, lost in thought.”
I come back to my senses. “Honey-bear!” I squeal back, clapping my hands excitedly.I am so not this woman.
If Tucker’s smile gets any wider, it will split his face.
