One Book In The Grave

window with my phone’s dead battery. I used the phone as both a clock and a calendar.

“I’m sorry, love. I’ll be back as soon as I can get away.”

“Maybe I should go back with you,” I said without enthusiasm.

“No, you stay here with your family and Max. I’ll drive back tonight and bring your phone charger with me.”

“You’ll drive all the way out here to do that?”

He chuckled but didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. His look said he’d drive to the moon for me. At least, that was my interpretation.

“Thank you,” I said. “And please don’t worry. We’ll be fine. I’ll call Gabriel to let him know what we’re doing.”

“Yes, do call him,” Derek said, then checked his wristwatch. “He’s already left for Point Reyes, but he expected to be back by noon.”

“I forgot he was driving out there.” I sighed. I guess I’d forgotten all sorts of things. “Well, then it’ll just be me and Mom.”

“Take extra care while I’m gone, darling,” Derek said, pushing away from the dining table. “You may be stirring up more trouble than you know.”

I smiled and hugged him. “I’ll be surrounded by my family and friends. This is my town. Nothing bad could ever happen to me here.”

“Whoa, sweetie, don’t push your luck.” Mom’s eyes were wide as she quickly rapped her knuckles on the tabletop. “Knock on wood.”

Chapter 13

Derek and I held hands as we walked out to his car. It was still early so the sun hadn’t cleared the hill. The sky was blue and cloudless, but the air was still nippy, though it promised to warm up later. It was so quiet out here, not like the city at all, and we both seemed to notice it at the same time.

The scene was tranquil, uncomplicated, sweet. Naturally anxiety began to dribble through me like an IV drip. Was it my fault that Derek was on the verge of becoming completely domesticated, as my friend Robin had recently observed?

We chatted about the weather and what he planned to accomplish at the office today. He intended to look deeply into Solomon’s and Angelica’s backgrounds to see if there were any red flags. Even though the local sheriff had considered Solomon a pillar of society a few years back, Derek wasn’t convinced-especially in light of what Max had told us about Solomon’s wild parties. Was it possible that the man had escaped arrest all this time?

As he spoke, I flashed back to the moment yesterday when he’d matter-of-factly pulled that serious-looking gun from his jacket on his way out to hunt down a killer.

So he wasn’t completely domesticated yet. I breathed a sigh of relief at the realization, then wondered how one man could be so normal and yet so dangerous at the same time. I didn’t know the answer, but I think it was that very dichotomy in Derek that most appealed to me. Was there something wrong with me that I loved his tough, dangerous side a lot? Was it wrong that I found it thrilling that this guy would go to any lengths, including carrying a gun and hunting down killers, to protect me and the people I loved?

But, hey, I also found it thrilling that he liked to make sandwiches and sit around watching TV, too.

“Your brain is working overtime again,” Derek said as he reached out and pulled me closer, moving his hands up and down my arms and across my shoulders.

“Just thinking about how much I’ll miss you,” I said, and wrapped my arms around him.

“Such a bad liar,” he murmured.

“I’m not lying about that,” I said, laughing.

“No, you’re simply withholding information.”

“Never.”

He chuckled and we stood holding each other for a while, until he leaned back and looked at me. “I know right now isn’t a good time, darling, but once Max’s problems are taken care of and things are back to normal, we have to talk.”

I didn’t like the sound of that. “Is everything okay?”

His eyes were focused on me, intense and indecipherable. “What do you think?”

Am I missing something? “I think everything’s wonderful.”

His knuckles grazed my jawline and moved down my neck, causing shivers and tingles to rise with his touch.

What does he want from me? I mean, besides the usual sexual favors and mindless devotion.

I was kidding, sort of.

“Are you feeling all right?” I asked, serious now.

“Yes.” He kissed me then, touching my lips so tenderly that I went boneless, almost dissolving in his arms. My eyes fluttered open to see him smiling at me in a way that was almost…victorious? Had I just capitulated to something? Was there a contest I didn’t know about?

“Be careful, please,” he murmured, kissing me again. “I love you.”

“And I love you,” I said. It was getting easier to tell him how I felt, especially when he said it first. Was that so wrong? It wasn’t like I needed permission to say it. But it was still nice to hear him say it first. Was I being neurotic? Hell, when it came to matters of the heart, when was I not?

He pulled open the car door and slid into the driver’s seat. “I’ll call you this afternoon when I’m on my way out of the city.”

“Okay. Be safe.”

He flashed me one of his sexy, twisted grins that made my whole body sit up and take notice. I smiled and waved as he started the engine and drove away.

Instead of racing back into the house, I stopped to pull some weeds growing among the flowers along Mom’s walkway.

Derek and I had been together for almost six months now. The fact that we’d managed to maintain a strong relationship, given Derek’s secret security assignments and my odd predilection for finding dead bodies, was a monumental achievement. If that wasn’t love, what was it, right? So why rock the boat when it looked like smooth sailing ahead?

I mentally rolled my eyes. Rock the boat? Smooth sailing? So many cliches, so little time. It was never a good thing to hear myself thinking in cliches.

I had a great-aunt, Aunt Jessica, my dad’s father’s sister, who spoke only in cliches and the occasional mixed metaphor. Instead of ever giving advice or admonishing, Aunt Jessica would nod gravely and say, “Sleeping dogs.” Or she would wink at one of us and murmur, “Bird in the hand.”

So from an early age, my siblings and I recognized the true wisdom of her words. We would outdo one another trying to come up with some ridiculous comment to describe a given situation. Finally, my father outlawed all cliches and silly metaphors. He decreed that we were allowed to think only original thoughts. It was silent at the dinner table for a few nights until he relented. But we learned our lesson, and from then on we did try to avoid cliches like the plague. Ha!

My point was that when I caught myself thinking in metaphors, mixed or otherwise, I knew I was either extremely tired or in serious danger of losing my heart. Both of these circumstances could cause brain cells to diminish. It was a well-known fact.

I just hoped I wasn’t getting stupid where Derek was concerned. He’d told me straight out that he worked in dangerous situations all the time, but maybe I’d missed the subtext. Maybe that meant he didn’t want to face danger when he came home. Maybe that’s what he wanted to talk to me about. Maybe he’d rather come home to someone more settled, someone less likely to stumble over dead bodies. Someone who didn’t attract death like honey attracted flies. Or was it bees?

Didn’t matter. Either way, it was another cliche. Good grief.