had been trumped. “Just got some loose ends to tie up first. Speaking of which, you baking tomorrow?”
“Of course,” she smiled again, glad to be back on safer ground.
“You might need a double batch. Pay-off for Billy leaving Blondie alone til tomorrow.”
She laced her fingers delicately and lowered her voice. “What happens tomorrow?”
“It actually happens tonight. But I can’t tell. You’re the Mayor. You need deniability.”
“Okay,” she conceded. “So I’m making a double batch of brownies.”
Like a segue in a crappy dinner theatre farce, there was a knock and when I opened the door, the original Cookie Monster himself was standing there grinning from ear to ear. All big, dark six-foot-six of him. Like a pirate crossed with a very hot cowboy. I smiled into eyes the color of Swiss chocolate; the only soft point in a face that could have been carved by an Italian sculptor hundreds of years ago. If the nose hadn’t been broken so many times.
That nose sliced into an overdose of puritan beauty and lent him a rakish thrill.
And then there was the chin dimple…
It was good to have moments like this, with him lounging in my doorway like sex on legs, to remind me just what a fine piece of booty he was, and that I wasn’t so crazy to have messed with the easiest friendship I ever had by sleeping with him. But it sure was crazy that I was mentally comparing him with some guy I’d only met two hours ago.
Some strange, wet guy. Some very off-limits guy.
“Hi Doug,” I sighed. “Anyone ever tell you it’s rude to come calling at three am?”
“Yeah, Sheriff, but I shot him,” he offered, still grinning and in one swift move stepping over the threshold, picking me up and squeezing me in an almost terrifying bear-hug, surprisingly agile for such a muscly guy.
“Okay. Anyone ever tell you it’s poor form to keep dropping in on a girl you dumped?”
“Nah,” he sighed, depositing his tidy ass on the couch next to Mom, sweeping her along a little with one hip and helping himself to some coconut bread as he did. “And we’ve been through that. Interpretation error.” I sniffed and he scowled. “Anyway, I’m on a mission.”
It was only then that I noticed the parrot on Doug’s broad shoulder. I shook my head in case I was just having a misplaced pirate fantasy. Then I remembered it wasn’t the first time this had happened. The bird thing, I mean, not the pirate fantasy. Let’s not even go there.
“Just spent two hours getting Bridie here out of that old tree in Memorial Park again.”
Mom sighed this time and held her hand out to the brilliantly-colored bird, which hopped on her finger happily. “Doug dear, you are a soft touch.” Then, to the bird, “Come sweetheart, I’ll walk you next door to Mrs Murphy. She’ll be fretting and we can’t let Doug take you back again. He scared the daylights out of her last time he came knocking in the wee small hours.”
I’m pretty sure Doug is not Doug’s real name. It just doesn’t sit well. The thing is, I never bothered to ask about it when he moved to Dirtwater shortly after I moved back home two years ago. Kindred spirits, we’d hang out down at the range, or shoot pool at The End of Days. He made me laugh. And he made me forget. It was an easy friendship. And then, once the inevitable happened, it was kinda hard to ask “‘Scuse me, but what’s your real name...?”
As Doug watched Mom leave with clear affection in his eyes, he whispered to me from the corner of his mouth. “You know it wasn’t like that. I did not dump you.”
A lie. I raised my brow.
“You left town,” I reminded him. “Without telling me. For. Six. Months.”
He wriggled uncomfortably in his seat and ran one enormous paw over his stubble-dark jaw. He opened his mouth to speak but I beat him to it, speaking real slow and nasty. “It was my birthday. You said you had a surprise. I just didn’t know the surprise was standing me up.”
He opened his mouth again but I wasn’t done.
“Janice Dean was waiting table. I had to crawl out the potty window.”
Doug guffawed loudly, wiping away tears with that big hand. “Oh Sheriff, you know I feel real bad, but I sure do love that part of the story,” he grinned. “Especially how you tell it.”
I managed a tight smile. “That makes one