when you thought this was going down.”
“But we had a deal,” he griped.
“I’ve already paid you more than you’re worth, Bernard. I put up with your attitude, broke my ribs and leg because of you, and I got Mira here to clear your name in a murder investigation so I didn’t have to hire another patsy to play my fiance. I think
I stepped in. “Scram, Bernard. She knows how to use those crutches, and I’ve seen her drop a man twice your size. She knows where to grab.”
He looked ready to put up a fight, but a couple of Battle Lake’s bigger, kinder brutes materialized from the crowd, catching scent of Mrs. Berns in trouble. Bernard might be stupid, but he wasn’t dumb, and he stomped off. I had a feeling we hadn’t seen the last of him, but I was too ecstatic to care too much right now-Mrs. Berns wasn’t getting married!
We were at my car. I eased her into the passenger seat and tucked her crutches in back, unable to wipe the smile off my face. Around us, people were talking and laughing, many of them taking advantage of the unseasonably warm fall evening to walk to the Rusty Nail. I noticed none of them had gifts. I looked to Mrs. Berns suspiciously. “Was I the only one who didn’t know this was a fake wedding?”
“Maybe, if you don’t count my kids and Bernard,” she said. “But Lord knows you can’t keep a secret, and I needed my kids to believe there was going to be a real wedding.” She pinched my arm. “Looks like someone wants to talk to you.”
I turned. Johnny stood at the top of the church steps, leaning against the open door. The wind ruffled his curling dirty blond hair, and he had a faint grin playing on his lips. He’d undone his tie and his crisp white dress shirt was open at the collar. I could make out a hint of his muscled chest, and his pleated slacks fit him like a hand to a glove. I wondered idly if I could get him to put on a loincloth and hold a tomahawk in an erect position.
“I’ve given up on men,” I managed to choke out. “I’m going to be single forever.”
“Get off that egg,” Mrs. Berns said. “You don’t have the stones for it. You know you want him.”
She was right. I offered him a timid smile. His grin grew. He pushed off the door and sauntered down the steps toward me. He was sexy-on-a-stick, open and loving, and I wanted those lean hips against mine until I screamed out for more.
I heard Mrs. Berns shift in the car and chuckle. “I think tonight’s going to be a night to remember.”
“I’m scared,” I said, as Johnny neared.
She grabbed my hand and said just loud enough for me to hear, “It’s tough sometimes, Mira James, but when life squeezes you, you gotta trust your own juice.”
“Yeah,” I said, stepping forward and into Johnny’s arms. “I just might try that.”
About the Author
Jess Lourey spent her formative years in Paynesville, Minnesota, a small town not unlike the Murder-by-Month series’ Battle Lake. She teaches English and sociology full time at a two-year college. When not raising her wonderful kids, teaching, or writing, you can find her gardening and navigating the niceties and meanities of small- town life. She is a member of Mystery Writers of America, Sisters in Crime, the Loft, and Lake Superior Writers.
