Book Read Free

How to Leash a Thief

Page 28

by Cat Clayton


  The strange pictures of the anonymous woman. With all the excitement these past two weeks, I’d nearly forgotten about them.

  “Yes, keep me informed. And if you pursue this, which I’m guessing you will, please be careful.” I squeezed him, taking in the woodsy scent of his aftershave. I pulled away, knowing I couldn’t remain in my father’s safe arms forever. “Okay, we’re outta here, everyone.”

  It somewhat surprised me they didn’t insist on following me to the apartment, and I didn’t want to sound needy and ask. Apparently, I still needed to work on my pride issues. I high-fived Gertie, and Cuff and I hit the road.

  We got this, Chiquita.

  “We sure do, little buddy.”

  Chapter 25

  I parked behind the shop and saw Jackson pull in behind us on his motorcycle. He shut the engine off, gave me a little wave, and dismounted.

  Cuff jumped up to peek out the passenger window.

  Taffy was riding in a front papoose pouch on Jackson’s chest. Oh my... be still my beating heart, I thought at the sight of them.

  Mine, too, Chiquita.

  The guy continued to surprise and confuse me.

  Jackson lifted Taffy up and out and set her on the ground. I opened the driver’s door, and Cuff leaped over my lap, landing on the pavement. I popped the trunk, got out, and unlocked the back door of the shop. Cuff and Taffy made a mad dash up the stairs to the apartment.

  Jackson removed his helmet. “S’up, buttercup?” His dark eyes twinkled, his once obnoxious nickname sent shivers down my spine.

  I didn’t have to ask him how he’d heard. It had to be Pop; no wonder he hadn’t insisted on helping me.

  “We’re moving in,” I said. My hand fumbled with the silver heart locket, as I tried to channel some of Mama’s inner strength, grace, and wisdom. Something told me to let my heart’s guard down. I didn’t know specifics from his past, but I had a hunch he’d also suffered loss. “So, are y’all out for a ride?”

  His usual hard facial features softened. “Not exactly. I called your house this morning to check on you, and your father told me you were planning on moving this evening. I offered to help. He called me as soon as you left his house. I think he kinda likes me.” He took a step toward me and reached for the box in my arms.

  “I see. Well, don’t let it go to your head,” I said and handed him a box from the back seat. “Well, if you really want to help, here.”

  “I really do,” he said his fingers grazing mine. The corners of his mouth twitched.

  My pulse ticked up a few notches when our skin touched and I quickly withdrew my hands. I went around to the trunk. Even though his signals confused me, and they played tug-of-war with my heartstrings, I enjoyed having Jackson around. Sometimes, you have to take a leap of faith.

  “Okay then,” I said, picking up another box. “Let’s get this car unpacked.”

  AFTER THE FIRST TRIP, he insisted on hauling everything up the stairs on his own. I started unpacking and directed where to put the boxes. When he’d emptied the car and made the last trip up, I offered him a beer.

  “Do you think that’s a wise idea?” he asked, a lazy, sexy smile forming. “You know, is now a good time?”

  It took me a few seconds to register that he was referring to the other night at the city park, when I’d turned down his invitation.

  “I guess I deserve that. But yes, I think now is as good a time as ever,” I said, shrugging my shoulders. I attempted to keep my tone light and playful. “As far as it being a wise idea, well, that remains to be seen.”

  If you ask me, I think it’s a wise idea, Chiquita.

  I glanced down at Cuff and Taffy snuggled on the sofa. Of course, you do.

  I retrieved two beers from the fridge and motioned for Jackson to join me out on the balcony overlooking Main Street. We sat on two folding lawn chairs in silence for a minute as we sipped our cold brews.

  “They found two partial prints on the cast-iron skillet, both were Mr. Schirmack’s. There were also traces of blood we tested against the samples we’d taken from the floor and Samson’s body,” he said, his expression deadpan.

  “And?” I asked.

  “It was a match,” he said.

  “Am I in trouble?”

  “That depends,” he said.

  “On what?”

  He glanced over at me. “Did you learn anything?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. Don’t tamper with evidence.”

  He smirked. “Good. Then you’re not in trouble.”

  I sighed in relief.

  We settled in our chairs, enjoying the quiet evening. We sat like that for a bit, both of us lost in our own thoughts. My mind drifted to our kiss the other night, and I felt the heat rise in my cheeks.

  “So...” I said, unable to stand the dead quiet any longer. My heart fluttered, and I wanted to jump out of my skin. A trickle of sweat raced down my back. “Are we ever going to discuss what happened the other evening at the city park? You know, in front of my car?”

  “I’m not ready to talk about it,” he said.

  “Well, I want you to know. there’s nothing wrong with you doing it again. I mean, I’d be okay with you doing it. You know, in the future.” Despite my boldness, my face burned with embarrassment. And I was dying for his reply.

  From the corner of my eye, I saw his lower jaw shift, the left side of his mouth tugged into a slow grin. “I see,” he said, his head nodded. “Well, we can arrange it, you know, in the future.”

  I sat there, trying to hold in the smile threatening to spread across my face. My fingertips tingled, and it wasn’t from the cold bottle in my grip.

  “I feel like we need to start over. We met over stressful conditions, and it’s not exactly the best way to begin a new relationship,” he said.

  Relationship? Is that what we’re calling this thing he and I had going?

  “You know, not everything between us has been all bad. I don’t think we need to erase it,” I said.

  “No, not all,” he said, smiling. “And I didn’t mean erase it, just start fresh.”

  “Okay. I can agree with that,” I said. I wanted to ask him what he thought we should do. What came next for us? Instead, I sat there with the words on the tip of my tongue.

  He scratched his five o’clock shadowed chin. “So, I was thinking I could come over and cook for you. Maybe give you some cooking lessons. I remember the first night we met, you mentioned you can’t cook.” He took a long swig of his beer and stared out over the town.

  The dogs padded out onto the patio and joined us. He cooks? I say he’s a keeper, Chiquita.

  “Sure, okay.” My heart did the Texas Two-Step across my chest’s dance floor. “So, like a date?”

  “Yes, a date,” he said, his voice low and husky. “I’ll bring the groceries and cook dinner. How’s tomorrow?”

  My pulse quickened. “Tomorrow...” I didn’t think my heart could pound any harder. I was wrong. I thought my lungs would literally explode any second. “I think I can work dinner into my schedule.”

  Taffy, tomorrow, I will let you share my kibble and my Milk Bones and we will watch the sunset together. Cuff nuzzled Taffy’s ear.

  “One more thing, buttercup,” Jackson said in a serious tone.

  “What’s that?” I asked, turning to him.

  His devil-dark eyes danced. “I promise to bring pie if you wear those camo boots.”

  My cheeks flushed, and I nodded. “Uh, huh.” My tongue twisted into a knot and I couldn’t utter another word.

  But me-oh-my... the guy had me at pie.

  The End

  Thank you for reading!

  If you enjoyed How to Leash a Thief, I would xoLOVExo an honest review. Did you know reviews help new readers discover books they may like? It’s true! And it only takes a few seconds to jot down a few things you appreciated. It doesn’t have to be a full book report. ☺ You can review it here. Thank you in advance! Find more ways to connect with me on the About Cat Cla
yton page.

  2019 will be a BIG year for Cat Clayton Mysteries! We are busy producing the audiobooks for How to Leash a Thief and How to Kennel a Killer. How to Fetch a Felon, Book 3 releases in September. Details will be posted on my website www.catclaytonmysteries.com.

  You can find How to Kennel a Killer, Book 2 here!

  How to Fetch a Felon, Book 3 releases Sept. 25th!

  Be on the lookout for How to Muzzle a Mobster, the 4th installment of the Steely & Cuff in 2020.

  Acknowledgements

  This book has been a long time coming. Five years to be exact. One crucial element remained throughout the many revisions. Steely's character. Her tenacious spirit and dogged determination kept my nose to the ground and pushed me through to THE END, and to her, I'm eternally grateful. Much love and appreciation to Jesse, oh wise husband of mine, for your support through this process, your expertise with writing about law enforcement and guns, and refusing to let me join the circus. But now, I’m ready for the long-awaited Ireland trip. To my two gorgeous daughters who taught me it's okay to "just do me" and "write my story". I love y'all to the moon and back. To my critiquers & beta readers, thank you. Laura, Nisha, Margie, Kathy, Pamela, Suzy, Kat, Nell, and Gwen, where would this story be without all of your input?! To Patty for your wonderful & insightful developmental edits. To W.O.S, for your unexpected hidden talents as an editor, and challenging my every "smoldering" description of Jackson's eyes. To my speed readers; Jesse, Keith, Shannon, Ruth, Margie, Leslie, and Ellie who gave me speedy error-check reads close to the finish line. To friends and family for putting up with years of my incessant book talk, I don't apologize for one word of it. To those of you who thought I’d never finish, never say never. Peace, love, and purrs, ~Cat

  About Cat Clayton

  Writing southern murder mysteries from somewhere in Texas, I love putting my amateur sleuths into precarious situations, forcing them to stumble upon dead bodies, and helping them solve the whodunits. *Think a mash-up of Legally Blonde & Murder, She Wrote. I write best with gallons of coffee, Goldfish, Raisinettes, and dill pickles (although usually not all at once).

  I confess; I’m Dory from Finding Nemo when it comes to handling guns. Thankfully, I’m married to a hunky police officer who patiently teaches me again and again when I write gun scenes. Our two beautiful sparrows have left the nest, and we’re relishing the empty nest life.

  Aside from writing mysteries, I’m an artist, a thrift store junky, and a furmama to a rescue Chihuahua mix (my very own “Cuff”), a neurotic German Shepherd, and two rescue kitties.

  I love to connect with my readers! Check out my website, www.catclaytonmysteries.com, where I post updates about future releases, news, and I randomly write a blog called The Purr Page. You can also find me on Facebook and Instagram as catclaytonmysteries. Feel free to write me an email at: catclaytonmysteries@gmail.com.

 

 

 


‹ Prev