Authors: Jennifer Zane
My brain was completely repulsed by the jackass, but my body didn’t care. He was hot. He made my nipples tighten by just being in the same room. I wasn’t going to consider what happened to my lady parts when he’d all but licked my ear.
He pulled back a little and we just stared at each other, the corner of his mouth ticking up. His eyes were so dang dark, yet so clear. Smug.
“JT McCade, as I live and breathe. You’ve sure grown up.
He’s
is the guy you punched?” Goldie asked, which had me practically jumping back, realizing how close he’d been. Her mouth hung open in awe. Aunt Velma wasn’t immune either, but Carl was right there so she hid it pretty well. It appeared any woman in the room was affected by the man’s looks. If I didn’t want to Taser him, I’d want to climb him like a monkey.
I whipped my head toward Goldie. “This is the guy who
stun gunned
me.” I pointed my thumb over my shoulder. “How many times do I have to say it? Besides, he thinks I’m…um, well. Never mind.” I didn’t need to mention that he thought I was some kind of porn star that had a penchant for handcuffs. I just wanted to get out of here.
He raised his hand to his mouth and mimicked zipping it shut and throwing away the key.
“What are you, in first grade?” I wondered, shaking my head. He thought that I really hadn’t been going to Thailand, but to leave town in secret to star in porn flicks? I took a step toward him and clenched my fist, ready to slug the jerk, but of course, Aunt Velma interceded.
“Young man, you don’t want to mess with a woman who is clearly in the throes of PMS.”
“Aunt Velma!” I screeched. I felt my cheeks heat from embarrassment along with anger. Every man in the room cringed and every woman nodded in solidarity.
“So true,” Goldie added.
“I do not have PMS!” It didn’t matter, the visual had been made.
McCade held up a hand and fixed his dark gaze on me. “Look, I don’t care if you were possessed by demons from hell, which I guess is the same as PMS. All I know is that I’m now on vacation for a week. Have fun in
Thailand
.” He tapped his brow in a little salute and walked out the door, Aunt Velma, Goldie and I all ogling his tight butt as he did so. If he was being such an ass, I might as well enjoy the view.
“Well, he can pull me over and frisk me anytime he wants,” Goldie said, fanning herself.
“No kidding. I might want to get a hold of his service weapon,” Aunt Velma added. “Sorry, Carl. I like your piece, too.” She waggled her eyebrows.
Okay, it was now officially a little creepy lusting after the same man as Aunt Velma. “Goldie, that man is a complete—”
“Now, now, it’s all over.” Carl tried to smooth things over. “Go see if you can make another flight.” He winked at Aunt Velma.
I took a deep breath. “There aren’t any more flights to get there in time. The Ubon Ratchathani Candle Festival is only for two days and it’ll be almost finished before I even land.”
“
Did you say something about udon noodles because I sure am hungry,” Aunt Velma replied, rubbing her stomach. “I had to rush out of the hospital to come to the station when Carl called and I didn’t get my soft serve in the cafeteria. I love a good swirl cone.” Aunt Velma retired ten years ago from her law practice, selling the firm to someone a few years ahead of me in high school. Since then, she’s puttered around town sticking her finger in all sorts of pies. Her latest, volunteering at the hospital.
“
I didn’t say udon. I said
Ubon.
”
“
Mmm, I could eat,” Goldie added. “I love that new noodle place on Willson. Maybe they have some of those udon noodles you’re talking about. It’s just a block from the store. Let’s go.” Goldie hoisted her large handbag higher on her shoulder. The giraffe print was bold enough that she would get shot by a hunter if she got out of town a few miles.
No one understood. I was in a world full of people who were off in their own little worlds. In other words, everyone was crazy. Even the über-hot detective. I glanced at Carl who just shrugged and said, “I could eat.”
I shrugged back, recognizing when it was just time to shut up and stuff my face. “Yeah, so could I,” I replied grumpily.
CHAPTER THREE
Carl dropped Aunt Velma and me off at the house, who had clearly stated he’d be stopping by later. He didn’t need to add more on to that sentence for me to feel nauseous.
“That was a great lunch. We don’t eat those fancy oriental noodles very often.”
“Asian. They’re Asian,” I replied, dropping down on the couch in a food coma. I’d eaten enough pasta that I was thankful for the stretch factor of my yoga pants. It seemed being Tased didn’t impact my ability to eat. “Oriental is reserved these days for rugs.”
Aunt Velma thought about that for a moment, then nodded, her lips pursed. “Sure. Makes sense.” She tossed her handbag onto the armchair by the door. It was the size of Rhode Island and always had anything anyone needed, at any time. It was like a Mary Poppins bag. If she reached in far enough, she’d pull out a freestanding lamp. “I’m glad you remembered to text Mike about your car.”
Mike Ostranski was Violet’s boyfriend. They’d hit it off in high school but rekindled their relationship earlier in the summer in Alaska. There was a story there, but they hadn’t really come up for air from fooling around to share it. He was a podiatrist but was away at a conference the past week and I figured I was lucky to have caught her with her clothes on. I’d arranged with Mike to leave my car at the airport for him to pick up when he came back, which would be in a few hours. I was supposed to be in Chicago by now, so it would have been a good trade.
“Yeah, he texted back saying he probably wouldn’t have fit in the car anyway. Violet’s going to get him.”
Mike looked way more like Aunt Velma than I did. He was huge. A big, big guy with red hair. His was a natural ginger, which was pretty darn hot, while Aunt Velma was a natural Revlon Hot As Sin since I was in seventh grade. Mike driving the Rabbit was like watching a clown ride in one of those little circus cars, but he was a good guy and was willing to wedge himself in for me.
The house phone rang. It was one of those old models that was attached to the wall with one of those long curly cords that let you only reach so far. No caller ID, no call waiting. It had been the same number for thirty years. Some things never changed. “Velma Dinkweiler speaking.”
I rolled my eyes at her formality.
“Well, hello, Carl. What?” Aunt Velma flicked a glance at me, then turned her head away and covered the phone’s mouthpiece. “Yes, I have whipped cream. You’re bringing ice cream? You’re not…oh.”
She had no volume control so I heard every word. I think I vomited a little of my lunch in my mouth.
“Can I talk to him please?” I asked, holding my arm out.
“Of course, but he’s not bringing ice cream. Just—”
“Yes, just whipped cream and I really, really don’t want any.”
One eyebrow went up at my snippy tone, then she handed me the phone, the long cord almost straight as it stretched out. “Hey, Carl, I forgot to ask you something.”
“What’s up?” he asked.
“Now that my brain’s a little clearer, can you please tell me how
that guy
pulled me over when he was in his own car? You don’t put radar guns in personal vehicles, do you?” There was silence on the other end of the line. “Carl?”
“Well, Daph, no. No, they don’t.”
“Then how—”
“He just said you were going crazy fast—his words, not mine—and felt he had to pull you over. Figured once the cruiser got there, they could issue a warning.”
I jumped up from the couch, paced the space in the living room I could reach with the phone cord. “He didn't really know I was going ninety? You’re telling me he just pulled me over on a whim?”
I could see Carl scratching his chin in my mind, stalling. He’d been around enough to know when a few words could make a woman steaming mad.
“You were going really fast. ” He sighed, probably realizing I’d wheedle it out of him anyway. “He wasn’t even working. He started his vacation last night.”
“He wasn’t even working?” I repeated. Loudly.
“Who wasn’t working?” Aunt Velma asked.
I looked at Aunt Velma, my eyes narrowed. She’d gotten a diet soda from the fridge. “Get me one of those. And guess what? That detective wasn’t even on shift when he pulled me over.”
Aunt Velma’s mouth fell open, then pinched into a thin line. “Well, I never.” She shook her head back and forth, earrings swinging, as she went back into the kitchen. I heard the fridge door open, slam shut.
“He had his gun and his badge on his belt,” I remembered. She handed me a soda and I braced the phone between my cheek and shoulder as I popped the top.
“He was making a stop and didn’t know what to expect.”
“That’s for sure,” I mumbled.
“When you went all crazy on him, he didn’t want to shoot you, that’s why he used the Taser. Even though you punched him in the nose.”
I took a big swig of my soda to cool down and to keep my mouth shut for a few extra seconds.
“I didn’t go all…listen, Carl, never mind. It’s over. I don’t have to see that guy again so let’s just forget about it.”
Another pause. “Really?”
I wasn’t so sure what would happen if I saw Detective McHottie again but it wasn’t Carl’s problem. Besides, I had to listen to the guy have sex with my aunt—Carl, not McHottie—so I needed to save something in reserve for when I needed to really yell at him. Say, later tonight.
“Really.” I sighed.
“Well, all right then.” He sounded relieved. “I’m going to have a patrol car drop me off and get your Rabbit and I’ll bring it by later. It’s the least I can do, considering.”
Aunt Velma had bought the red Rabbit for me when I’d come home from boarding school the summer after I turned sixteen. It had been old and a clunker then, but I’d loved it right from the start. It was my little piece of independence and it still was. Even though I wasn’t in town often, Aunt Velma kept up with the maintenance and had it waiting for me.
“Thanks, Carl.”
I glanced at Aunt Velma who was leaning against the doorway listening to the one-sided conversation. “Do you want to talk to him?’
“Just tell him not to forget the whipped cream. I’ve got the cherries.”
That, I doubted. She hadn’t had her cherry since 1964.
“Did you hear that, Carl, because I’m not repeating it.”
“Gotcha.” He hung up.
I untangled myself from the cord and hung the phone back up.
“What are you going to do now?” Aunt Velma asked, finished with her soda and now sifting through the mail. “Hey, I might have won a million dollars!” She held up the envelope with a sarcastic twist to her mouth, then tossed the lot into the recycling bin in the corner of the kitchen.
I sighed. “I missed the candle festival, so I’ve got to figure out what I’m going to do for the next assignment.”
Aunt Velma perked up. “Hey. You don’t have to go all the way to Thailand for candles. We can just go to the candle store at the mall. I love that pumpkin spice one, but that’s seasonal and they don’t always carry it.”
Yeah, no. “This isn’t exactly the same thing.”
“Well, it was worth a try,” she said, forlorn. “Don’t you have another assignment lined up?”
I took another sip of soda. “Not until the end of August.”
“Hmm.”
That little sound was fairly innocuous coming from most people, but when Aunt Velma hmm’d, I got worried. I had good reason. The list of things that happened to me after a hmm included getting our legs waxed because of a two-for-one coupon that came in those coupon packs in the mail, getting matching cornrows in our hair for the fifth grade International Day festival at school and building an outdoor chicken coop so we could have our own eggs. The worst was when she’d set me up on a blind double date with Hank Gilwater…and his father. When Hank and I had to watch his dad and Aunt Velma make out at the movies, then get kicked out for it, I decided boarding school would be a good place for me.
Aunt Velma and I always got along, but she was a free spirit and raised me to be independent, just like she was. She’d been married back in the sixties long enough to be saddled with the last name of Dinkweiler, and that had been that for legal unions. Since then, she’d had more non-legal unions than I could remember, including Mr. Gilwater. So when I said I wanted to go away to boarding school, Aunt Velma understood I needed to spread my wings—her words, not mine.
Since I was stuck in Bozeman for the next few weeks—LA was most definitely out—and Aunt Velma said hmm, I was petrified. The problem was, I was too tired and too frazzled, literally, to run for the hills. Besides, my car was still sitting on the side of the Frontage Road and the only way I was getting it back was by my aunt’s boyfriend who would also be bringing whipped cream and it wasn’t for dessert. So hours later, when Carl showed up with my car and a bag from Safeway, I grabbed the keys from him and left.