about your future with Calamity Jane Realty.”
I’d rather lick a doorknob. “I’m looking forward to it.”
* * *
Aunt Zoe met me at the door when I got home. Tonight she wore a long blue bohemian style skirt and a flowing white cotton top with blue diamonds embroidered on it. With her hair pulled back in a braid threaded with rhinestones and her cowboy boots polished, she had me whistling and cat-calling as I circled her.
“Another date with Mr. Wyoming?” I asked, catching a whiff of the exotic scent of her expensive perfume.
“We’re heading down to Rapid tonight. May even do some dancing.”
“You really like this guy, huh?”
“Yeah, I think I do.”
As fond as I’d grown of Reid, I wanted to see Aunt Zoe happy. However, I couldn’t resist testing to see if she really was done with the fire captain.
“I saw Reid today. He asked who your friend was at the lounge last night.”
Her eyes narrowed. “That’s none of his damned business.” She grabbed her purse off the side table. “And you can tell him I said that next time he tries to nose into my life.”
I guess she was done. “Okay.”
“I’m not going back down that road again.” She started out the door, came back and kissed me on the cheek. “Sorry, sweetheart. I want to hear about your open house at Cooper’s. Tell me tomorrow over breakfast?”
“Sure. Have a fun night.” I waited until she’d climbed into her pickup to close the door. “Sorry, Reid,” I said. I went to see what my children were into, and if I could get a piece of the action.
Hours later, after feeding the kids some pepperoni pizza for supper, I sneaked upstairs and tried calling Doc for the third time. It kicked to voicemail after several rings. I hung up without leaving a message, just as I had before, and tossed my cell phone onto the bed. I needed to talk to Doc, not his voicemail. Besides, what I wanted to say shouldn’t be recorded.
My phone buzzed, announcing a text message. I grabbed it, hoping it was Natalie replying to my message about the cookie disaster at Cooper’s open house.
Nope—it was Doc: Hi, Trouble.
I typed back: Where are you?
Cooper’s.
What? Why?
Playing poker.
For real? I frowned, not liking Doc carousing with the law. There must not be any ghosts hanging out in Cooper’s house. Hell, the gun lamp had probably scared them away.
Before I could reply, another text came in: Cooper says to tell you no texting during poker. Gotta go.
“Cooper can shove it,” I told my phone and stuffed it in my sweat jacket pocket. A glance at the clock got me moving. Both kids had homework to finish before bed.
After cracking the whip, we watched a little TV, then brushed teeth and climbed into bed—well, they did, not me. I waited another hour before pulling the bottle of aged tequila down from the cupboard above the fridge. I didn’t waste time with a glass, just leaned against the kitchen counter and sipped from the bottle. Staring at Aunt Zoe’s Betty Boop cookie jar, I drank the smooth tasting liquor.
“You’re lucky, Betty,” I told Miss Boop, pointing at her with the bottle. “You get to eat all of the cookies you want and you still look sexy.”
My phone buzzed in my pocket.
“I used to be able to pull off wearing a bustier like yours, but having kids really messed up my fun-bags.” I took another hit of tequila and then pulled my phone from my pocket.
Doc had texted again: I want to talk to you.
I replied: You still at Cooper’s?
No. I’m standing on your back porch watching you talk to the cookie jar.
Oh! I looked at the back door. On the other side of the glass, Doc beckoned me outside with his index finger.
I pocketed my phone, set the tequila on the counter, and opened the door, shutting it and the screen quietly behind me. “What are you doing back here?”
Doc stood in the deep shadows, nothing more than a dark silhouette. “Being quiet on a school night.”
“Where’s your car?”
“At home. I
I’d rather lick a doorknob. “I’m looking forward to it.”
* * *
Aunt Zoe met me at the door when I got home. Tonight she wore a long blue bohemian style skirt and a flowing white cotton top with blue diamonds embroidered on it. With her hair pulled back in a braid threaded with rhinestones and her cowboy boots polished, she had me whistling and cat-calling as I circled her.
“Another date with Mr. Wyoming?” I asked, catching a whiff of the exotic scent of her expensive perfume.
“We’re heading down to Rapid tonight. May even do some dancing.”
“You really like this guy, huh?”
“Yeah, I think I do.”
As fond as I’d grown of Reid, I wanted to see Aunt Zoe happy. However, I couldn’t resist testing to see if she really was done with the fire captain.
“I saw Reid today. He asked who your friend was at the lounge last night.”
Her eyes narrowed. “That’s none of his damned business.” She grabbed her purse off the side table. “And you can tell him I said that next time he tries to nose into my life.”
I guess she was done. “Okay.”
“I’m not going back down that road again.” She started out the door, came back and kissed me on the cheek. “Sorry, sweetheart. I want to hear about your open house at Cooper’s. Tell me tomorrow over breakfast?”
“Sure. Have a fun night.” I waited until she’d climbed into her pickup to close the door. “Sorry, Reid,” I said. I went to see what my children were into, and if I could get a piece of the action.
Hours later, after feeding the kids some pepperoni pizza for supper, I sneaked upstairs and tried calling Doc for the third time. It kicked to voicemail after several rings. I hung up without leaving a message, just as I had before, and tossed my cell phone onto the bed. I needed to talk to Doc, not his voicemail. Besides, what I wanted to say shouldn’t be recorded.
My phone buzzed, announcing a text message. I grabbed it, hoping it was Natalie replying to my message about the cookie disaster at Cooper’s open house.
Nope—it was Doc: Hi, Trouble.
I typed back: Where are you?
Cooper’s.
What? Why?
Playing poker.
For real? I frowned, not liking Doc carousing with the law. There must not be any ghosts hanging out in Cooper’s house. Hell, the gun lamp had probably scared them away.
Before I could reply, another text came in: Cooper says to tell you no texting during poker. Gotta go.
“Cooper can shove it,” I told my phone and stuffed it in my sweat jacket pocket. A glance at the clock got me moving. Both kids had homework to finish before bed.
After cracking the whip, we watched a little TV, then brushed teeth and climbed into bed—well, they did, not me. I waited another hour before pulling the bottle of aged tequila down from the cupboard above the fridge. I didn’t waste time with a glass, just leaned against the kitchen counter and sipped from the bottle. Staring at Aunt Zoe’s Betty Boop cookie jar, I drank the smooth tasting liquor.
“You’re lucky, Betty,” I told Miss Boop, pointing at her with the bottle. “You get to eat all of the cookies you want and you still look sexy.”
My phone buzzed in my pocket.
“I used to be able to pull off wearing a bustier like yours, but having kids really messed up my fun-bags.” I took another hit of tequila and then pulled my phone from my pocket.
Doc had texted again: I want to talk to you.
I replied: You still at Cooper’s?
No. I’m standing on your back porch watching you talk to the cookie jar.
Oh! I looked at the back door. On the other side of the glass, Doc beckoned me outside with his index finger.
I pocketed my phone, set the tequila on the counter, and opened the door, shutting it and the screen quietly behind me. “What are you doing back here?”
Doc stood in the deep shadows, nothing more than a dark silhouette. “Being quiet on a school night.”
“Where’s your car?”
“At home. I
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