Lee Mckenzie - To Catch A Wife

“Plan to.”

“Your dad was in for a trim last week.” Fred tucked a towel around the neckline of the cape. “Haven’t seen your mother in a while, though. How’s she doing?”

“Oh, you know, she’s the same as always.”

Jack didn’t actually know that, although it’s what he assumed. Norma Evans would always do the things she’d always done. Keeping the house where he and his sister had been raised, which was far too big for her and his father, as neat as a pin. Reminding his father that salads were good for him and pipe smoking was not. Volunteering at church bazaars and literacy book drives, organizing care packages for troops in Afghanistan and Iraq.

Walter Evans was retired from his lifelong career as maintenance supervisor for the Town of Riverton. It used to be his job to keep the fire trucks, police cars and snowplows running and on the road. Now he spent most of his time in his workshop at the back of the garage next to the house, tinkering with his twenty-year-old Ford F-250, fixing bicycles and repairing broken appliances and old lawn mowers for everyone in the neighborhood. The shop was the only place where Walt could listen to NPR uninterrupted and puff on his pipe without censure.

Jack stared up at the tin-tiled ceiling as Fred applied pre-shave cream to his face. The question about his parents was a harsh reminder that Jack had been doing a lousy job of staying in touch with them. He needed to figure a way around the tunnel vision he developed every time he worked a major case.

“And now for the towel,” Fred said.

Jack heard the steamer open, then gave an inward sigh as Fred placed the hot towel on his face. The heat seeped along his jaw, up his cheeks and across his brows.

“There we go. Give that a few minutes, and then we’ll get started.”

Jack’s thoughts drifted from his family to the interview he needed to do this afternoon and then to Emily, to seeing her again, to holding her, to...

The clang of the bell on the barbershop door cut into his thoughts.

* * *

EMILY WAS BREATHLESS by the time she returned to the barbershop. Fred met her at the door and shushed her with a quick finger to the lips as he escorted her across the floor and sat her in an empty chair. The other chair, she noted, was occupied. Fred unceremoniously returned his customer to an upright position, peeled back the towel and swung him to face Emily.

“Jack?”

He blinked, clearly as startled to see her as she was to see him. “Emily.”

She blinked back.

“You two need to talk,” Fred said. And then he walked out and locked the door behind him.

CHAPTER FIVE

JACK HADN’T REALIZED how much he’d been looking forward to seeing Emily until he opened his eyes, and there she was. Glossy dark hair, intelligent brown eyes behind the black, square-framed glasses she sometimes wore instead of contacts, a perfectly shaped nose with a dusting of freckles, luscious lips that appeared to be calling out for a kiss.

Or maybe not. She did not look happy to see him, not even a little bit. He had meant to have the element of surprise work to his advantage. Instead he found himself at a distinct disadvantage, and he hated that. He snatched the towel from around his neck and used it to swipe the pre-shave off his face, then cast it aside along with the cape.

He had planned to show up at her place later that day, unannounced. He knew she’d be surprised and most likely a little—or a lot—ticked off that he hadn’t called. He had a knack for picking up on a person’s emotions, for reading their body language, and right now, Emily was both surprised and irritated. He hadn’t expected this third emotion, though, something akin to fear.

“How did you know I was here?” he asked, sitting up straighter. It was a dumb question, a question he wouldn’t have asked, and in a tone he wouldn’t have used if he felt more in control.

“I had no idea you were here.” She narrowed her gaze. “Why are you here?”

Wasn’t it obvious? “A shave, a haircut.”

She rolled her eyes. “Here in Riverton.”

“Oh. I have to interview a witness at the police station this afternoon.”

“Okay.” She looked as though she didn’t believe him.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I live here.”

His turn for an eye roll. “Here, in the barbershop, not here in Riverton.”

“Oh...I...um...”

But he already knew the answer. “Fred texted you I was here, didn’t he?”

Emily shook her head. “He didn’t say anything about you. He just said I needed to get over here.”

Jack did not like the sound of that, not one bit. “Why would he do that?”

She started to say something, seemed to think better of it and closed her mouth.

“Why did he say the two of us need to talk? Did you tell him about us?”

She was blushing furiously and looking guilty as all get-out. He could understand that she’d maybe talk to a girlfriend or her sisters about their night together. He knew women shared those kinds of details, but would she talk to another guy about them?

Unless...for a few seconds, his doubts got the better of him. Were she and Fred more than friends? Or was Fred more of a girlfriend type of friend? Not that Fred’s relationships were any of his business, but there was obviously something going on here that involved Jack, and that was his business. There had to be a reason the guy had been so jumpy when Jack had walked into the shop. He planned to find out what it was.

Jack stabbed his fingers through hair that was evidently not going to get cut after all. “Why would you do that? And how many other people know about us?”

“Us? There’s an us? Huh. You could have fooled me.” Her tone was defensive, and he could hardly fault her for it.

Not only had he started out on the wrong foot, now he’d made her mad. Who was he kidding? She had probably been mad for weeks. Now there was every chance he’d messed up a good thing, possibly the best thing that had happened in a long time. To make matters worse, if she had talked to Fred about their night, she would have told her sisters, too, and possibly any number of other people. This might be all over Riverton by now. No. It couldn’t be. If it was, his mother would have heard about it, and then he really would have heard about it.

At this point, it didn’t matter who knew and who didn’t. He needed to come clean with Emily, make her understand how intense this triple homicide investigation was and explain he was an idiot who wanted a second chance. Maybe grovel a little.

“Look, I’m sorry,” he said. “Not calling you was a stupid move. Or maybe lack of a move is a better way to describe it. I meant to call, wanted to see you again. I never meant to take this long to get around to it.”

“Technically, you still haven’t.”

Ouch. She was more composed now. She wasn’t going to make this easy for him, and he could hardly blame her.

“That’s true, but I was going to.” To prove his point, he jumped up and crossed the shop to where his jacket hung and then returned to the chair with her business card in his hand. “I was planning to call this afternoon, as soon as I finished my interview.”

He glanced at the wall clock. He was going to have one antsy witness on his hands by the time he finally made it to the station, but this thing with Emily couldn’t be rushed.

“You were?”

“I was. I...” He considered his options before he continued. Pour on the charm? Shoot from the hip? Knowing she would see right through the first option, he decided on the second. “Look, the truth is, I’m not very good at being in a relationship when I’m working a case.”

Her eyes widened at his use of the R word. Confident he was on the right path, he continued.