Rachel felt it too.
She stopped abruptly, but didn’t turn around.
“Am I crazy, Kevin?”
“You might be the sanest person I know,” I said, thinking that was a sad thing to have to admit.
“I’m sorry I hit you.”
“That was a million years ago.”
She turned and put her arms around me and kissed my mouth. Then we turned it into a full body hug, right there in the middle of the highway.
It was a quiet night, the cars few and far between, and we headed back toward the bed and breakfast. The tall grass on the shoulders swayed in the breeze, and I kept us in the middle of the road so the ticks wouldn’t get on her legs.
The feeling of serenity—or whatever it was—lasted maybe ten seconds, and yet it had been powerful enough to make me want to pursue its source. Could there have been something in the air? Some type of flower whose aroma was intoxicating? Either we had moved through a space where it was, or it had invaded our space and moved on. I made a mental note to thoroughly check the area the next morning when I went on my run.
Rachel said, “You remember a couple of weeks ago when Karen said you were a killer, not a thief?”
“Her real name is Callie,” I said.
Rachel didn’t respond, so I added, “Yeah, I remember.”
“What did she mean?”
Rachel knew I worked for Homeland Security, but so far I hadn’t felt the need to tell her that my job involved assassinating suspected terrorists. Nor did I happen to mention that in my spare time I was a contract killer for the mob.
“She was probably talking about my killer smile,” I said.
“I wonder.”
I looked at her but didn’t say anything.
She said, “The way you handled yourself when you saved me and Sam from those guys. Not to mention Lou.”
“Lou Kelly? What about him?”
“You can tell Lou’s a tough guy.”
“He is.”
“But he was afraid of you and Karen. And Karen hit Sam with one punch and nearly killed him.”
“So?”
Rachel took my hand in hers, put it to her lips.
“I’m not wearing panties,” she said.
I took a moment to marvel at her facility for random discourse.
“Always useful information for a boyfriend to have,” I said.
At that moment, for no apparent reason, she bit the shit out of my hand. I wondered briefly if she was really crazy or just messing with me.
“I never wear panties,” I said.
“Did you feel it just now when I bit you? ‘Cause you never yelled or anything.”
“Was that you?” I said. “Yeah, I felt it.”
“That’s why I love you so much,” Rachel said.
“Because I don’t yell when you bite me?”
“No, ‘cause you’re funny.”
“Good to know,” I said, rubbing my hand.
“I bet you’ve got a hell of a history, Kevin.”
“I won’t deny it.”
“Maybe someday you’ll tell me,” she said.
“Maybe I’ll write a book.”
She smiled. “If you do, will you put me in it?”
“Of course.”
“You promise?”
“If I write a book, I’ll put you in it. I’ll call it
“I hope you’re not married to that title,” she said, “or you’ll never make the first sale.”
It was getting dark. Lights in the beach rentals up and down the highway began popping on. In front of us, to
