Nowhere. No suspects, no leads. The only thing I had was motive. Everyone in town apparently hated me.
Wow, was I the self-pity queen today or what? I downed the last of my drink, filling up the glass again.
“The enchiladas are almost done,” Aunt Millie informed us, pulling a steaming pan from the oven.
“Good. I love enchiladas,” I said. Though somehow it came out more like, “Good, I wuv eshiladas.”
Aunt Sue looked from the nearly empty pitcher to me. “How many of those have you had, peanut?”
“One.” I hiccupped. “And a half.”
A deep wrinkle of concern formed on her forehead. “Well, you might want to slow down just a little.”
I waved her off. “Ish juss ‘cause I haven’t eaten.” I was sure after I dug into the enchiladas I’d feel better. In fact…I downed a few more gulps…I was beginning to feel better already. Better than I had in days.
Okay, so what if everyone in town hated me? That just meant I was doing my job well. No one loves a good reporter. And I was a good reporter, despite what Felix thought. So maybe I wasn’t 100 percent sure of this creep’s identity, but in the past week I’d single-handedly gotten the goods on Katie Brigg’s secret online dating life, Blain Hall’s real addition, blackmail on the set of Pines’s last film, and kickass quotes from both Pines and Jennifer Wood. All things considered, I rocked. I was a superstar gossip columnist.
With that cheery thought, I dug into my enchiladas with relish, not even caring the slightest that they were just one jalapeno shy of being toxic.
Three margaritas later, I staggered into the living room to find Cal hovering over a stack of papers in a yellow manila folder.
“What’s that?” I asked, plopping myself down on the sofa next to him.
“A new client. Wants me to watch his wife while he’s out of town.”
I looked down at the folder. A picture of a tall, stacked blonde stared back at me. I hated tall, stacked blondes.
“She looks high maintenance,” I pointed out.
He shot me a look, the corner of his mouth tilting upward in a grin.
“Well, luckily, I don’t have to date her. I just have to watch her.”
I felt my cheeks flush. “Right.”
“Anyway, I won’t take it until I’m sure you’re out of danger.”
Something about the protective tone in his voice made my insides warm. Yeah, I know he was being
“Thanks,” I said.
He turned to me. “For what?”
“For taking care of me. Nobody takes care of me.”
His eyes softened. “You’re slurring your words a little there, kid.”
I nodded. “It’s ’cause I’m drunk.” I lifted my empty margarita glass as proof.
He grinned. “Yes, you are.”
“It’s okay,” I told him. “I like being drunk. It means I don’t have to think about anything.”
“Such as?”
“Suspects, murders, Pines, the paper, Felix, you.”
“Me?”
Shit. Had I said that out loud?
“I mean, the way you follow me around.”
His eyebrows drew together. “Does it bother you that much?”
“No. I mean, yes, at first. But, no, that’s not what I meant when I said you and you following me around. I meant, well, I guess what I really meant was…I mean, it’s complicated, I mean…” Truth was, I had no idea what I meant.
Cal looked at me, concern lacing his eyes. Dark brown eyes. I’d never noticed before, but they were fringed in the longest lashes I’d ever seen on a man. I sighed. “You have nice eyes.”
The corners of his lips tilted upward. “Thanks.”
“And nice lips. They look like soft lips.”
The grin grew. “Honey, you’re
I nodded. But somehow that knowledge didn’t stop me from leaning in closer…closer…so close I could have licked his lower lip if I’d stuck my tongue out.
Which I did.
“Tina,” he whispered.
But I didn’t let him finish that thought, my mouth suddenly acting all on its own as it latched on to his.
I was right. His lips were soft. And sweet. And when they started moving beneath mine, gently nipping at my lower lip, I felt a moan curl up from my belly. Wow, he was good at this.
His goatee tickled my chin, his arms drawing around my shoulders, pulling me in tight against that body that could make anyone believe in the power of protein shakes.
I lost all sense of time, but after what felt like a blissful eternity, we finally came up for air. Cal pulled away, his eyes dark and unreadable, his breath coming as quickly as mine suddenly was. His voice was husky. “I think maybe we’d better get you to bed.”
I grinned, biting my lower lip. “Anything you say, big guy.”
A full brass band was playing in the next room, the tuba relentlessly thumping out note after note. My temples throbbed with each beat, my head threatening to explode. I covered my ears with a pillow, trying to drown out the noise. But the damned band kept on playing, louder if anything. God, how many margaritas had I had last night? Thirty? Forty? Okay, it was probably more like four. But that was four too many. Tequila was definitely not my friend this morning. I rolled over, giving up on the pillow, and stumbled to my feet, trying to get my bearings. Four-poster bed. Navy comforter. Fuzzy velvet Elvis on the wall.
Cal’s room.
As the band played on, the night before came flooding back to me in one horrible ohmigod-what-did-I-do-last- night rush.
I remembered sitting on the sofa, saying something stupid about his eyes, and then we were kissing. Then he said something about going to bed…
I covered my mouth. Oh shit. Had I slept with Cal?
I looked down. I was wearing the shirt I’d worn yesterday and a pair of pink panties. Inconclusive.
I looked wildly around for any sign of Cal, but I was thankfully alone. Which could mean I’d dreamt the whole thing or that he’d already gotten up from our post-coital bliss to make me breakfast. Think, Tina, think! What happened last night? I wasn’t sure. My memory was covered in a tequila haze. I licked my lips and swore I could still taste Cal there. I’d kissed him…Oh, God, I’d kissed him. I buried my head in my hands. How stupid could I get? And why the hell was that band still playing?!
I threw the covers off, willing my feet to hold me up. One foot on the ground. Two. Okay, so far so good. I took a couple tentative steps, and, while my stomach wasn’t thrilled with the idea of movement, last night’s enchiladas stayed firmly put. Which I took as a good sign.
I threw a pair of jeans on, then opened the bedroom door. And the brass band grew louder. By the time I shuffled into the kitchen it was all I could do not to gouge my own eardrums out at the sound. I walked in to find Aunt Sue at a blender, throwing chunks of bananas in as she danced to the forties big band coming from a radio in the corner.
“Could you turn that off?” I pleaded, one hand on my head to keep my brains from oozing out my ears.
“What?” Aunt Sue yelled.
“Turn it off!”
She turned the knob on the radio, bringing with it blissful silence. “What did you say? I can’t hear you with the radio on!”
I took a deep breath. Blew it out. Reminded myself how much I loved my aunt. “Coffee. Is there any coffee?”
“Here you go, tequila queen.” I looked up to find Cal handing me a mug of steaming liquid.
His hair was still wet from a shower, his eyes crinkling at the corners, dancing with some secret knowledge. I sincerely hoped it wasn’t about me.
