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ELIOT
I don’t know what he expects me to say. That I’m so colossal a loser that I’ve resorted to trying to relive my youth by wreaking havoc around town? Well, a better youth. I know nothing I’m doing makes sense to a sane person. And to be honest, I’m not even completely sure it makes sense to me.
I do know one thing though. I’m not sharing any of this with the man sitting across from me.
He doesn’t say another word. He just dives into the fries while I sip my coffee and decide what to tell him.
“I’ll make a deal with you,” he finally says. His warm gaze meets mine. It almost makes me confess everything, but I stop myself just in time. “Promise me you won’t do anything that will get you hurt, and I’ll let it go. Again.”
“I promise.”
“I mean it. No rockets, no dangerous climbs, no breaking and entering, no grand theft auto.”
“Grand theft auto?” I chuckle. “I promise I don’t have anything planned that will get me or anyone else hurt. Is that what you want to hear?” He searches my face, looking for something. I’m not sure what, but whatever it is, he must find it. He nods and looks back down at the plate.
“Okay,” he says, nodding. “Okay.”
“So, were you just sitting around hoping for someone to arrest?” He smiles, and I feel the tension ease some. “Or were you in the middle of preparing for a crazy night out?”
“I was getting ready for bed.”
“At nine? How oldareyou?”
“Not all of us have such a busy social schedule.” He rolls his eyes.
“Some social schedule. I spent the evening buying toilet paper and using it on my old principal’s house. Not exactly my idea of a night out on the town.”
“What is your idea of a night on the town?” he asks.
He settles against the back of the booth with his legs stretched into the aisle. His arm slides to the back of the seat again. His entire focus is on me. I don’t think I’ve ever had a man so fully invested in what I’m about to say. It’s almost unnerving.
“Well.” What does it look like? “I don’t know. Maybe dinner at a posh restaurant, then the latest hit on Broadway, followed by drinks with friends. I’d crawl into bed in the early morning, totally exhausted but feeling alive. I like to think of myself on the same level as a twenties flapper.” I grin, but he just stares at me.
“Fine,” I finally relent. “It doesn’t matter as long as it’s fun and the conversation is good. Food helps.” I wave a fry at him. “Stupid, right?”
“No. It’s not stupid. It sounds like a nice way to spend an evening. All I did this evening was pizza and a book. It was nice enough. Putting pants back on to pick up Dansboro Crossing’s newest felon, though, was the icing on the cake.”
“Putting pants on. What a tease.”
“Yeah,” he says with a wink. “I’d much rather be taking them off.”
five
ELIOT
I don’t even knowwhat that was. Was it a sexual innuendo? Does he just not like pants? I’ve been asking these questions since he dropped me back off at my car two nights ago. Not much was said after the pants comment. I mean, what do you follow that up with?
I’ve kept a low profile since being busted for toilet papering the principal’s house. Seems the least I can do. The sheriff’s deputy really could use some rest. I think all that chasing me around has somehow fried his brain. Hence the pants comment.
“You’ve outdone yourself this time,” Austen says, stepping into my office.
I’ve finished catching up on the funeral home books and have moved on to the coffee shop books. I’d much rather account for coffee beans than caskets.
“A work of true poetry,” Brontë adds, following her through the door with Keats on her hip. “Where did you find your inspiration?”
“Captain Underpants. Where else?” I have all the books. Don’t judge; I got them in elementary school.
“Can we assume the reference is to the bangin’ new deputy in town?” Austen asks. “Do you think there’ll be retribution?”
