Shake Your Green Thing: Supernatural Witch Cozy Mystery (Harper “Foxxy” Beck Series Book 2) by Raven Snow Page A
Authors: Raven Snow
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again."
To that, he only laughed— laughed so hard, he almost toppled to the ground. A few of his police buddies had to steady him as tears ran down his face and his body shook. The whole scene was rather indelicate, and I sniffed and put myself in the nearest ambulance.
They took us to the local hospital separately. The long couple of minutes I was apart from Wyatt made me panic as the reality of what had just happened came crashing down on me. My heart sped up, and my head started pounding.
I'd almost died. Again. I'd never considered my life very dangerous, even though I was frequently scantily clad at night and had a penchant for trouble. But this was the second time in a few weeks that I'd confronted a killer. Both times, Wyatt had been there to save me, but what about next time?
I was a good detective, but I wasn't so sure I was as good at keeping myself out of harm's way.
A few minutes after the sassy ER nurse told me she didn't want to see me around again, I was put back in the same room I'd occupied off and on for the past few days. It was good to get back to basics.
I hadn't noticed before, but the room was so clinical and white. There was hardly any color or dirt anywhere— the two items that primarily made up the Funky Wheel. A wave of homesickness surged through me, and I wished more than anything that I was on skates and grooving to the sounds.
It was at that moment, when I needed him most, that Wyatt waddled in. He was in a hospital gown like me, and he was rolling a metal thing that looked like a coat rack that housed his fluids.
I raised an eyebrow at him. "Do they know you've escaped?"
He pressed a finger to his lips, shooting me a cheeky smile that made my heart do funny things. Scooting over with great difficulty, I made space for him. He collapsed onto the vacant side of the bed with a large exhale.
With his lips right next to my ear, it was hard to concentrate on what he was saying. After a few moments, I realized it didn't matter—not as much as sleep did, anyway.
The doctor came in and gave us an exasperated look. “You two—“
I was asleep before he finished the sentence.
Chapter Eight
The hospital personnel released us on the same day as the closing ceremony, which I felt was awfully inconvenient. As in all small towns, the news of our deeds and release had been spread before we'd even signed the discharge papers. That meant that, as Wyatt and I were walking out of the large, automatic doors, my phone rang.
"No," I answered. "Whatever it is, the answer is no."
Melanie's prim and annoyed voice came through the line. "Again, that is no way to greet someone."
Why did it always have to be her? Couldn't it once be a billionaire, wanting to give me a little of his excess pocket change?
"The answer's still no."
Wyatt took the phone from me then. His eyes were bruised and tired. Looking at him sent a surge of desire and guilt through me. I'd really put him through the wringer this past week, and he was still standing right beside me. The same couldn't be said of really anyone else in my life— not even my mom when she was still alive.
He listened to Melanie for a moment, grunting when appropriate. I couldn't hear anything she was saying, as my phone was old, crappy, and had horrible reception. Luckily, I didn't have to wonder for long, because Wyatt hung up a minute later and handed the phone back to me.
I waved it in his face before pocketing it. "Gee, thanks."
"Melanie wants you to attend the ceremony since she's already down three girls, thanks to you." At my narrow eyes, he added, "Her words, not mine."
"But, being the perfect boyfriend that you are, you talked her out of it, and we can just go home and fall into bed?"
"Nope," he said, popping the "p." "You have to go, or I'll have to arrest you for breaking into her house."
"She's gonna hang that over my head forever, isn't she?"
"Probably." Leaning in closer, he whispered in my ear, "But after, if that falling into bed
To that, he only laughed— laughed so hard, he almost toppled to the ground. A few of his police buddies had to steady him as tears ran down his face and his body shook. The whole scene was rather indelicate, and I sniffed and put myself in the nearest ambulance.
They took us to the local hospital separately. The long couple of minutes I was apart from Wyatt made me panic as the reality of what had just happened came crashing down on me. My heart sped up, and my head started pounding.
I'd almost died. Again. I'd never considered my life very dangerous, even though I was frequently scantily clad at night and had a penchant for trouble. But this was the second time in a few weeks that I'd confronted a killer. Both times, Wyatt had been there to save me, but what about next time?
I was a good detective, but I wasn't so sure I was as good at keeping myself out of harm's way.
A few minutes after the sassy ER nurse told me she didn't want to see me around again, I was put back in the same room I'd occupied off and on for the past few days. It was good to get back to basics.
I hadn't noticed before, but the room was so clinical and white. There was hardly any color or dirt anywhere— the two items that primarily made up the Funky Wheel. A wave of homesickness surged through me, and I wished more than anything that I was on skates and grooving to the sounds.
It was at that moment, when I needed him most, that Wyatt waddled in. He was in a hospital gown like me, and he was rolling a metal thing that looked like a coat rack that housed his fluids.
I raised an eyebrow at him. "Do they know you've escaped?"
He pressed a finger to his lips, shooting me a cheeky smile that made my heart do funny things. Scooting over with great difficulty, I made space for him. He collapsed onto the vacant side of the bed with a large exhale.
With his lips right next to my ear, it was hard to concentrate on what he was saying. After a few moments, I realized it didn't matter—not as much as sleep did, anyway.
The doctor came in and gave us an exasperated look. “You two—“
I was asleep before he finished the sentence.
Chapter Eight
The hospital personnel released us on the same day as the closing ceremony, which I felt was awfully inconvenient. As in all small towns, the news of our deeds and release had been spread before we'd even signed the discharge papers. That meant that, as Wyatt and I were walking out of the large, automatic doors, my phone rang.
"No," I answered. "Whatever it is, the answer is no."
Melanie's prim and annoyed voice came through the line. "Again, that is no way to greet someone."
Why did it always have to be her? Couldn't it once be a billionaire, wanting to give me a little of his excess pocket change?
"The answer's still no."
Wyatt took the phone from me then. His eyes were bruised and tired. Looking at him sent a surge of desire and guilt through me. I'd really put him through the wringer this past week, and he was still standing right beside me. The same couldn't be said of really anyone else in my life— not even my mom when she was still alive.
He listened to Melanie for a moment, grunting when appropriate. I couldn't hear anything she was saying, as my phone was old, crappy, and had horrible reception. Luckily, I didn't have to wonder for long, because Wyatt hung up a minute later and handed the phone back to me.
I waved it in his face before pocketing it. "Gee, thanks."
"Melanie wants you to attend the ceremony since she's already down three girls, thanks to you." At my narrow eyes, he added, "Her words, not mine."
"But, being the perfect boyfriend that you are, you talked her out of it, and we can just go home and fall into bed?"
"Nope," he said, popping the "p." "You have to go, or I'll have to arrest you for breaking into her house."
"She's gonna hang that over my head forever, isn't she?"
"Probably." Leaning in closer, he whispered in my ear, "But after, if that falling into bed
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