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She gazed back at his sports car, a lethal, midnight black Aston Martin Vanquish S with a V-12 engine. The machine had set him back a couple of hundred thousand, but even that hadn’t made much of a dent in his net worth. Being the starting quarterback for the Chicago Stars was pretty much like owning a bank.
She nearly poked out her eye as she pushed a sweaty spike of hair away from her cheek with her paw, which didn’t seem to be detachable. “I could use a ride.”
“Are you going to gnaw my upholstery?”
“Do not mess with me.”
“Apologies.” For the first time all day, he was glad he’d decided to get off the interstate. He tilted his head toward the car. “Hop in.”
Even though this was her idea, she hesitated. Finally, she shuffled after him. He should have helped her in—he did open the door for her—but he just stood back to watch the fun.
Mainly it was the tail. The sucker was basically spring-loaded, and as she attempted to wedge herself into the leather passenger seat, it kept smacking her in the head. She got so frustrated she tried to rip it off, and when that didn’t work, she stomped on it.
He scratched his chin. “Aren’t you being a little tough on the ol’ beaver?”
“That’s it!” She started to take off again down the road.
He grinned and called out after her. “I apologize. Comments like that are exactly why women have lost respect for men. I’m ashamed of myself. Here, let me help you.”
He watched her struggle between pride and necessity and wasn’t surprised to see necessity win. When she returned to his side, she let him help fold over her tail. As she clutched it to her chest, he guided her inside. She had to sit on one cheek and peer around the tail to see through the windshield. He climbed behi
nd the wheel. The beaver suit emitted a musky odor that reminded him of a high school locker room. He cracked the window a couple of inches as he pulled back out onto the road. “So where are we off to?”
“About a mile straight ahead. Take a right at the Eternal Life Bible Church.”
She was sweating like a linebacker underneath all that malodorous fur, and he turned the AC to full blast. “Are there a lot of career opportunities in beaver work?”
Her derisive look told him she knew exactly how much entertainment he was having at her expense. “I was doing some promotion for Ben’s Big Beaver Lumberyard, okay?”
“When you say promotion…”
“Ben’s business has been down lately…or so I was told. I just got to town nine days ago.” She nodded straight ahead. “This road leads to Rawlins Creek and Ben’s lumberyard. That four-lane highway back there leads to Home Depot.”
“I’m starting to get the picture.”
“Right. Every weekend, Ben tries to hire somebody to stand out by the highway with a sign to draw some of the shoppers his way. I was his latest patsy.”
“Being the new kid in town.”
“It’s tough to find anybody desperate enough to do this job two weekends in a row.”
“Where’s the sign? Never mind. You left it with your head.”
“I could hardly walk back into town wearing a beaver head.”
She pointed this out as if he were slow-witted. He suspected she wouldn’t have been walking back into town wearing a beaver suit, either, if she had anything on underneath it. “I didn’t see a car parked back there,” he said. “How did you get out here in the first place?”
“The owner’s wife dropped me off after my Camaro picked this morning to permanently give up the ghost. She was supposed to come back an hour ago to pick me up, but she didn’t show. I was trying to figure out what to do when I saw a certain scumsucker whip by in a Ford Focus I helped pay for.”
“The boyfriend?”
“Ex-boyfriend.”
“The one you’re getting ready to murder.”
“Keep pretending that I’m kidding.” She peered around her tail. “There’s the church. Hang a right.”
“If I drive you to the crime site, does that make me an accessory?”
