Лори Касс - Wrong Side Of The Paw

Sighing, she leaned over and tossed the scrapbook to the coffee table, slightly dislodging Eddie in the process. Though he gave a mild murmur of protest, he didn’t do anything dramatic, like relocate.

“Distract me,” she said. “I need to think about something else.”

I put my feet up on the table. “Leese stopped by the bookmobile today. We got talking about her and her half siblings.”

“Brad and Mia.” Aunt Frances nodded. “In spite of their parents, they’ve grown into fine young adults. Who would have guessed?”

“Yeah, about that.” I slid down into a comfortable slouch and tried not to be jealous that Eddie preferred my aunt’s lap to mine. “Leese was telling us about a car accident from a long time ago. Leese was about thirteen, and Dale was driving. They crossed the centerline and hit a small convertible head-on.”

Aunt Frances gave Eddie a long pet. “I remember. A lot of people turned against Dale after that. He tried to blame his children’s argument for the accident.” She snorted. “He should have pulled off the road, not tried to discipline them at fifty miles an hour.”

“Leese says the accident was the last time she and her half siblings had a real argument.”

“At least something good came out of it,” Aunt Frances muttered. “The man driving the other car certainly suffered enough.”

Eddie’s head bounced up. “Mrr!” he said.

I patted my fuzzy pal, a little puzzled at her turn of phrase. “I suppose death is the worst kind of suffering.”

“What?” Aunt Frances frowned at me. “He didn’t die. Who told you that? He was hurt very badly, though. And didn’t deal with it well, from what people said.”

“Mrr.”

My aunt looked at Eddie. “What did I do this time?”

“Mrr!”

“You breathed?” I suggested.

“Ah. That’s it.”

Eddie jumped to the back of the couch and glared at Aunt Frances. “Mrr!” He turned and gave me a hostile look. “Mrr!” Then he jumped to the floor and thumped his way up the wooden stairs.

Aunt Frances and I looked at each other.

“So,” she said. “What are you up to tonight?”

I laughed, then remembered what was on the agenda for the evening.

And sighed.

• • •

After giving Eddie—who had crawled into the back of my closet and made a nest of my summer flip-flops—an air kiss, I hurried down the stairs and out the front door. Aunt Frances and Otto were already on their way out for dinner with friends, and if I didn’t hurry, I was going to be late to meet Ash.

Late would be bad, but even worse was I still didn’t have the right words to start the conversation we needed to have. I’d stopped by the Three Seasons the night before to talk to Kristen about it and she’d rolled her eyes at my attempts. “It’s not a speech,” she’d said disgustedly. “You can’t rehearse this kind of thing. Just open your mouth and start talking.”

“If I do that,” I said, “I’ll start talking about something that’s easier to talk about. Say, the best way to achieve peace in the Middle East.”

“Don’t be stupid. All you have to do is focus.”

In spite of the dire danger of receiving another eye roll, I asked, “Should I ease into it or do I start right in?”

“Focus,” she’d repeated, and now that I was on my way to meet Ash, I was doing my best to keep her advice foremost in my mind.

The only problem was, my brain was filled with things to think about. There was Leese’s dad, her brother and sister, her stepmom, and Leese’s business. There was my new boss, the outrageously expensive software program she wanted to purchase, and Mitchell’s refusal to enter the library until she was gone. There was the question of what Eddie might be doing to my flip-flops, my aunt’s upcoming marriage, and the possible dissolution of the boardinghouse.

And there was the big question of who killed Dale Lacombe? Did I need to consider Carmen as a suspect, or would Ash and Detective Inwood be taking care of that possibility? Plus, there was the guy from the car accident, if I believed that an accident-based grievance could explode into murder decades later. And what about Rob Driskell? And Daphne Raab? And the Boggses?

When I showed up at the location where I’d arranged to meet Ash, I climbed a few concrete steps, opened the door, and for the second time that day my ears were assaulted. This time, however, instead of construction noises, it was the thunderous crash of falling bowling pins that made the tiny bones in my ears work overtime.

Chilson’s bowling alley had a grand total of eight lanes, but the amount of activity going on inside made it feel like sixty. Everywhere, people were milling about, talking and shouting and laughing. It was a gregarious scene of constant movement and Ash spotted me before I saw him.

He detached himself from a group of what I belatedly realized were fellow deputies—they looked much different out of uniform—and came over. “Just started to wonder where you were.” Ash gave me a kiss on the cheek. “Hey, you’re cold. You’re not sick, are you?”

“No, I walked, is all. The temperature is dropping. I think it’s going to freeze tonight.” An inane comment, but I still hadn’t figured out how I was going to get Ash away from his bowling team for a quiet talk and was hoping for inspiration to strike. Any moment would be good. Right that second would be even better. “Ash, we need to—”

But he was talking at the same time. “Minnie, we need to—”

We both stopped. In spite of the noise surrounding us, there was a short and uncomfortable silence. “You go first,” he said, nodding.

I glanced toward his team, where a pitcher of beer had just arrived. “What about bowling?”

“The league before us is running late,” he said over another crash of tumbling pins. “We won’t start for another twenty minutes.”

“Is there somewhere quiet?”

“In a bowling alley?” He grinned and for a moment I lost my focus completely. Ash Wolverson was the best-looking man I’d ever dated. He was smart. He was fun. He was active. He was interesting. Why on earth didn’t I love him?

“Come on.” Ash escorted me through the open doorway that led to an adjacent restaurant. He took us to a small table in the back corner, where he held out a chair for me and, once I was in it, slid the chair forward just the right amount.

“Would you like anything?” He sat across from me. “Food? Drink?”

Their largest glass of wine , I almost asked, but instead said, “No, thanks.” And since I still didn’t have the right words to start this conversation, I put my hands on the table and stared at them. Small hands with short fingers. Fingernails that needed trimming. Cuticles in need of maintenance. Some hangnails, too, and—

No. I had to say something. And I had to say it now. Still focused on my hands, I opened my mouth and the words started to spill out. “Ash, I’m so sorry, but—”

My voice combined with his, and I was pretty sure he said, “Minnie, I’m really sorry, but—”

I lifted my head to stare at Ash and found that he was staring at me. My mouth was hanging open the slightest bit, as was his, and I was starting to suspect that I didn’t have to be too worried about breaking his heart.

“The last few months,” I said, testing the waters, “have been a lot of fun.”

“Absolutely.” He nodded vigorously. “I can’t think of a time when I’ve had such a good time with a girlfriend.”

“But for some reason, there are no sparks when we kiss.”

“No sizzle,” he agreed. “I don’t understand it.”

I started to smile. “Me either. You’re smart, you’re good looking, you’re funny, and we have so much in common. Why isn’t this working out?”