strayed back to Reyes. It was difficult not to dwell on a man whose mere presence evoked images of the devil hell-bent on sinning.
“I love the name of your dad’s bar,” Elizabeth said as we trod downstairs.
I forced myself back to the present. Elizabeth’s attitude toward me had changed since I’d almost had sex with an incorporeal being in her presence. But I didn’t think she was angry. Or offended. Maybe it was something about Garrett. Maybe she felt as though I were cheating on him, since he seemed to have feelings for me. He had feelings for me, all right, but they weren’t the warm and fuzzy kind.
“Thanks,” I said. “He named it after me, to the utter chagrin of my sister,” I added with a snort.
Sussman chuckled. “He named it after you? I thought it was called Calamity’s.”
“Yeah. Uncle Bob called me Calamity for years, as in Calamity Jane? And when my dad bought the bar, he just figured it fit.”
“I like it,” Elizabeth said. “I had a dog named after me once.”
I tried not to laugh. “What kind?”
“A pit bull.” A mischievous grin spread across her mouth.
“I can totally see that,” I said with a chuckle.
We took a secluded table in a dark corner so I could hopefully talk to my clients without anyone staring. After a quick intro—and an abbreviated version of my night with domestic-abuse husband in the bar to explain the state of my face—I asked my dad if I had any messages.
“Here?” he asked. “Are you expecting one?”
“Well, yes and no.” Rosie Herschel, my first assisted-disappearing case, was supposed to call only if she ran into trouble, so no news was good news. We didn’t want to risk any communication otherwise, any connection to me and my job, thus spilling the fact that she’d hightailed it out of her asshole husband’s pathetic life, not that the man lived anywhere near close enough to the town of Intelligence to figure out what had really happened.
“ ‘Yes and no’ doesn’t answer my question,” Dad said, waiting for me to elaborate.
“Sure it does.”
“Ah,” he said, understanding my point. “Official business. Got it. I’ll let you know if anything comes in.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
He smiled, held it for a moment, then leaned down to whisper in my ear. “But if you ever come into my bar with a bruised and swollen face again, we’re going to have a serious talk about your official business and everything it entails.”
Damn. I thought I’d gotten away with it. I thought I’d convinced him that my ass-kicking was more of an educational experience than a scarred-for-life one.
My shoulders deflated. “Fine,” I said, adding a slight whine to my normally nonalcoholic voice.
He kissed my cheek and took off to cover the bar. Apparently, Donnie hadn’t come in yet. Donnie was a quiet Native American with long black hair and killer pecs. He didn’t care enough about me to give me the time of day, but I pretty much had the time-of-day thing covered anyway. And Donnie was nice to look at.
Uncle Bob closed his cell phone and placed his full attention on me. It was unsettling. “So,” he said, “you want to tell me what was happening when I walked into your office this morning?”
Oh, that. I shifted in my chair uncomfortably. Making out with air must look ridiculous to the ordinary passerby.
“How bad was it?” I asked him.
“Not bad, I guess. I thought you were having a panic attack or something. But then I realized Cookie and Swopes were just staring at you, so I figured whatever it was couldn’t have been life-threatening.”
“Right, because Swopes would have been right there, giving me mouth-to-mouth or something else heroic.”
Uncle Bob tilted his head as he thought back. “Actually, it was more the look of utter longing on Cookie’s face.”
A bubble of laughter rose from my throat. I could totally see the euphoria in Cookie’s expression. Uncle Bob sat patiently, his furry brows raised in question as he
“I love the name of your dad’s bar,” Elizabeth said as we trod downstairs.
I forced myself back to the present. Elizabeth’s attitude toward me had changed since I’d almost had sex with an incorporeal being in her presence. But I didn’t think she was angry. Or offended. Maybe it was something about Garrett. Maybe she felt as though I were cheating on him, since he seemed to have feelings for me. He had feelings for me, all right, but they weren’t the warm and fuzzy kind.
“Thanks,” I said. “He named it after me, to the utter chagrin of my sister,” I added with a snort.
Sussman chuckled. “He named it after you? I thought it was called Calamity’s.”
“Yeah. Uncle Bob called me Calamity for years, as in Calamity Jane? And when my dad bought the bar, he just figured it fit.”
“I like it,” Elizabeth said. “I had a dog named after me once.”
I tried not to laugh. “What kind?”
“A pit bull.” A mischievous grin spread across her mouth.
“I can totally see that,” I said with a chuckle.
We took a secluded table in a dark corner so I could hopefully talk to my clients without anyone staring. After a quick intro—and an abbreviated version of my night with domestic-abuse husband in the bar to explain the state of my face—I asked my dad if I had any messages.
“Here?” he asked. “Are you expecting one?”
“Well, yes and no.” Rosie Herschel, my first assisted-disappearing case, was supposed to call only if she ran into trouble, so no news was good news. We didn’t want to risk any communication otherwise, any connection to me and my job, thus spilling the fact that she’d hightailed it out of her asshole husband’s pathetic life, not that the man lived anywhere near close enough to the town of Intelligence to figure out what had really happened.
“ ‘Yes and no’ doesn’t answer my question,” Dad said, waiting for me to elaborate.
“Sure it does.”
“Ah,” he said, understanding my point. “Official business. Got it. I’ll let you know if anything comes in.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
He smiled, held it for a moment, then leaned down to whisper in my ear. “But if you ever come into my bar with a bruised and swollen face again, we’re going to have a serious talk about your official business and everything it entails.”
Damn. I thought I’d gotten away with it. I thought I’d convinced him that my ass-kicking was more of an educational experience than a scarred-for-life one.
My shoulders deflated. “Fine,” I said, adding a slight whine to my normally nonalcoholic voice.
He kissed my cheek and took off to cover the bar. Apparently, Donnie hadn’t come in yet. Donnie was a quiet Native American with long black hair and killer pecs. He didn’t care enough about me to give me the time of day, but I pretty much had the time-of-day thing covered anyway. And Donnie was nice to look at.
Uncle Bob closed his cell phone and placed his full attention on me. It was unsettling. “So,” he said, “you want to tell me what was happening when I walked into your office this morning?”
Oh, that. I shifted in my chair uncomfortably. Making out with air must look ridiculous to the ordinary passerby.
“How bad was it?” I asked him.
“Not bad, I guess. I thought you were having a panic attack or something. But then I realized Cookie and Swopes were just staring at you, so I figured whatever it was couldn’t have been life-threatening.”
“Right, because Swopes would have been right there, giving me mouth-to-mouth or something else heroic.”
Uncle Bob tilted his head as he thought back. “Actually, it was more the look of utter longing on Cookie’s face.”
A bubble of laughter rose from my throat. I could totally see the euphoria in Cookie’s expression. Uncle Bob sat patiently, his furry brows raised in question as he
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