“Yes, it will, and why ask when the sauce is already cooking? I can smell it.”
“I needed an excuse to come see what you’re doing.”
She smiled against his shoulder. “Daina called you ‘Hot Stuff.’ She also said you look at me like you could eat me up.”
“Yeah? How about that. Seems to me I already have.” His voice dropped a couple of notes and memory sent a frisson of pure sensual pleasure up her spine. “I plan on doing it again too.”
He was seducing her before she’d even had the promised spaghetti. Bo tried to remember if she’d ever been seduced before; she didn’t think she had. Two days ago she’d have said she didn’t want to be seduced, but that was two days ago.
She was happy, she thought with a little shock. Happy. She’d have said before that she was happy, certainly that she was content, but the fizz of euphoria in her veins showed her the difference.
Happy. It would take some getting used to.
Going back to work the next day, and taking Tricks with her, was more difficult than Bo had anticipated. As the clock ticked toward time to head to town, her sense of dread grew. She started to ask Morgan to keep Tricks at home for her, but when it was time to leave, he joined her. “I’m not ready to let you out of my sight,” he said flatly, scowling. “It’ll take me a while to get over seeing that son of a bitch pull his weapon and knowing I couldn’t take a shot.”
She’d felt much the same way, knowing there was nothing she could do to save Tricks. She looked at the dog, who was bouncing at the door in anticipation. “I’ve always felt she was better off with me, but being with me may put her in danger.”
“Only from Kyle Gooding, and the bastard won’t be poking his head out of a jail for quite a while.”
“He’ll get bail.”
“He could. But he won’t. He knows better.”
That was all Morgan said, but Bo got a clearer picture of why Kyle was going to plead guilty-and now she had no doubt that he would. Morgan was waiting for him if he got out of jail.
The citizens of Hamrickville had become accustomed enough to Morgan’s black Tahoe that any time they saw it, they expected Bo and Tricks to be inside. Morgan let down the windows so the people could see Tricks, and Tricks could collect her accolades. There seemed to be more people in town today than usual, so there were more calls of “Tricks!” and more waves. Tricks, of course, acted as if it were a continuation of the parade and began woofing happily, turning her head from side to side to include all her subjects.
Seeing that, seeing Tricks’s enjoyment and happiness, helped soothe Bo’s heart. She smiled back at Tricks, grateful that the dog was untouched by the terror that had so devastated her. She wanted Tricks to be happy and confident every day of her life.
Morgan parked behind the police station as he always did, and they went in the back. Bo was in front; she skidded to a stop when she saw what was at her desk, and Morgan bumped into her from behind, sending her lurching off balance. His arm immediately locked around her to support her, holding her against him until she was steady again.
A huge bouquet of balloons was anchored to her office chair, gently swaying and bobbing in the office air currents. Tricks froze, staring at the balloons for a moment before darting forward, her tail wagging madly as she planted herself under them, looking upward with such intensity Bo thought she might be plotting the trajectory needed to get to them. There had to be at least thirty of the things, in all colors, and they were definitely within Tricks’s leaping range.
“Those balloons are about to be toast,” Morgan said as he eased himself between Tricks and her target. He untied the strings from Bo’s chair and re-anchored the balloons to the handle on the top drawer of a tall filing cabinet. Tricks followed him, her dark gaze still locked on the tantalizing arrangement, then she turned her head and stared at the chair positioned beside the cabinet.
Bo said urgently, “Move the chair!” and Morgan whisked it away just as Tricks was gathering herself to leap into it, and from there to the balloons. Thwarted, Tricks gave a disgruntled huff and trotted to Bo’s desk, where she raised her nose to the edge and sniffed at a mystery box perched in the middle.
“Mayor Buddy brought the balloons,” Loretta announced, a disembodied voice rising from her cubicle across the office. “Daina brought the cookies.”
“Cookies,” Morgan said. He was fast; he reached the desk before Bo did and opened the box to examine the contents. “Chocolate chip for sure, probably sugar cookies, and what looks like sugar cookies with something reddish in them.”
“Snickerdoodles,” replied Loretta, still out of sight. “Don’t you know cookies?”
“I know Oreos. That’s all a man needs.” He offered the box to Bo. “They’re for you, so I’ll let you have first choice.”
“Gosh, that’s so big of you,” she said and took one of each variety. Tricks began bouncing up and down at the sight and smell; because it was evidently a day for treats, Bo broke off a bite of a sugar cookie and held it down for her.
Looking at the pile of paperwork on her desk, Bo sighed. That was what taking a day off work got her: double the paper. There was nothing to do but get started, so she did, with her chosen cookies lying on a napkin to the side. Morgan brought a cup of coffee and set it next to the cookies, then took himself over to have a chat with Loretta.
Then the parade started.
There was never a crowd, usually just one visitor at a time, but the police station door might as well have been a revolving one. Miss Doris came bustling in with several boxes, which Morgan immediately took control of so he could investigate. “Cupcakes,” he announced, and slanted a fierce blue-fire glance at Bo. “Don’t lick the icing,” he growled, pointing a finger at her for emphasis.
What? She stared at him in bewilderment. “I always lick the icing.”
“Don’t.”
Miss Doris giggled, and Bo looked over to see the older woman blushing. She looked back at Morgan, and his expression spelled it out for her. She felt her own face getting warm. “Okay,” she said, forcing out the word because her throat was suddenly tight from the heat wave sweeping up from her toes. She felt like a high schooler-or what she imagined a high schooler would feel like because her own high-school years hadn’t involved any relationships other than friends on her swim team.
Morgan returned to the box. “We also have dog-shaped cookies. Just to be on the safe side, Miss Doris, are these people cookies or-”
“Oh no, they’re for Tricks,” she said before he could try them out himself. “I made up my own dog-safe and healthy recipe for her, you know.”
“I’ll know for sure you love me when you make man-shaped cookies,” he said and winked at her, which left Miss Doris in a blushing, giggling mess.
A little while after Miss Doris left, Patrick brought in a dozen doughnuts, a mixture of chocolate-filled and lemon-filled. “Hey, Chief,” he said, setting the box on her desk. “I figured you could use some sugar therapy. Are those Miss Doris’s cupcakes?”
“They are. Help yourself,” Bo invited. Holy hell, she was going to die of sugar shock, but she felt obligated to try one of everything that had been brought. “Those are for Tricks,” she added, when Patrick began nosing around in the box of dog treats too. They wouldn’t hurt him, but Tricks might hold a grudge if she noticed someone else eating her treats.
Jesse and Kalie came in with a fruit basket; at least that sugar came with some vitamins. Bo began to wonder if the whole town thought she had collapsed from the trauma, then realized she damn near had. If she’d been the one Kyle had tried to kill, she’d have been frightened, but not devastated. Not only that… it dawned on her that even though they weren’t saying a word, evidently they all knew Kyle had been aiming at Tricks and not her. Christa, who had been beside Tricks on the float, knew the truth; Bo assumed she’d been interviewed, and she would have told them the truth. It didn’t matter. Kyle was pleading guilty to trying to kill the police chief, and that’s how it was going to stand.