Liz took off her sandal and got rid of the stone. “Ask around.” Then she turned and walked away, head held high.
When Liz got to the beach house, she left her foil-wrapped dinner on the deck’s railing, then went down to the shore. It was close to sundown, and the beach was shaded by the dunes. She got more than one mouthful of sand when she reached the bottom of the steps, and she had to keep her hand on her right cheek to protect the healing skin. She loved the ocean as much in foul weather as in fair. Even if the weather was rough for the Spring Fling, it shouldn’t matter, because everything would be inside the emporium, except for the tables for the Barrier Island Historical Society and the Barrier Island Sanctuary. But if there was rain, the tables could easily be moved indoors to the large foyer on the other side of the double doors.
The surf was rough. It reminded Liz of Ryan’s personality. She wasn’t comfortable knowing he was living so close to her in the caretaker’s cottage. And what “assignment” could he possibly be talking about? Well, she would soon find out. She reached for a conch shell, which lay perilously close to a royal-blue pearlized water balloon, which Liz knew wasn’t a balloon at all. It was a lethal man-of-war, still wriggling with life. She pulled back her hand. Her thoughts strayed to Ryan again—was he the handsome conch shell or the stinging man-of-war?
Of course, Ryan didn’t show up on time. It was two hours later when she saw his hulking form under the spotlight on the deck.
Liz opened the door. “You’re late.”
She didn’t offer him a seat, but he sat anyway on the sofa, putting his feet up on the flat-topped trunk topped with beach-related coffee table books. He leaned back with his hands entwined behind his head, as if he was ready to settle in for a long snooze. She glared at him until he finally shifted his feet to the floor. Had he been raised in a barn? She pictured him and his fellow firefighters sitting around a pot of chili, talking sports, belching, and objectifying women.
He said, “I couldn’t get away. Mrs. Holt noticed me walking with Brittany and asked me to check on Regina’s injuries.”
She felt a slight twinge of admiration for him helping Aunt Amelia, but it was short-lived. As he sat forward, his intense eyes focused on her, he said, “Before I agree to partner with you…”
“What? Partner with me!”
“You seem a little high-strung. Your reputation precedes you.”
So. He did know all about Manhattan and Travis. Or at least he thought he did. “I’m not your partner. Are you delusional?”
He gave her a sly smile, acting like he knew he was in the driver’s seat.
“Can you get on with it?” Liz continued. “I still need to eat my dinner.”
“Is that what I smell? Have enough for two? We can discuss the case over dinner.”
“No, there’s not enough for two. Spit it out. What’s all this business about an assignment or some kind of ‘partnership’?”
“How about a drink, then?” he said, leaning back into lounging position again.
“This isn’t a social call. And I don’t drink.”
He stood and walked toward the center of the great room. “That’s not what I heard, princess.” His smirk morphed into a sneer.
Liz walked up to him and poked her finger into his chest. “You mean, that’s not what you read in the tabloids. You can leave now. We’re finished here.” Her face was warm and her knees unsteady.
He looked down at her and gave her one of those grins he most likely used on weak females when he wanted to get his way. Liz wasn’t weak. He said, “Don’t you even want to know why I came here?”
“Not really.” She pushed against his rock-hard chest, forcing him to walk backward toward the door.
“Your father hired me to look into a case he’s working on. He said you were already on board.”
“What? You’re a firefighter—why would he hire you?”
“I don’t just work on the FDNY. I’m Kings County’s lead arson investigator. And I’m very good at my job.”
She walked toward the French doors and opened them. “Whatever. I’m not really in the mood to partner with you. I prefer to work alone. Time to go.”
“We’ll talk tomorrow. Granddad said you were helping with the wine-and-cheese tasting. See you at noon.” Before going through the doorway, he gently touched her bottom lip with his index finger. “Take care. Lock up behind me.”
As he sauntered out of sight, she locked the doors and set the alarm for the first time since she’d moved in. “Oh, Dad,” she said to the empty house. “What have you gotten me into?”
Chapter 14
Liz sat on the sofa in Betty’s suite. “Then the jerk said that Dad had hired him for a case he’s working on. The same case Dad wanted me to help him with.” She knew she sounded like a whining teenager. How many pouting sessions had Betty heard from her over the years? Too many. So Liz zipped it.
Betty poured tea into Liz’s cup, then sat on the sofa, sinking into the crater left by Killer’s one-hundred-sixty-pound physique. Caro hopped onto Liz’s lap and head-butted her chin. Jealous Killer tried to do the same, then gave up and lay on top of Liz’s feet.
“It can’t be that bad,” Betty said, picking up her crochet hook to fashion another granny square—a pile of about fifty towered next to her on a side table. “If Mr. Stone is an arson investigator, then I assume the case involves arson.”
“It does.”
Betty cut a piece of yarn, made a knot in the corner of the square, and added it to the pile. She noticed Liz looking at the stack. “We’re making blankets for teens in local hospitals. Francie taught a class last week: ‘Not Your Granny’s Granny Squares’.”
The colors of yarn Betty used weren’t the avocado greens,
