by Amy Reece
“Chrissy?” He was staring at her, eyebrows raised.
Crap. She’d been so busy obsessing about him she missed his question. She felt herself flushing as she ducked her head. “Sorry. What was the question?”
His crooked smile caused her stomach to twist. “Dance with me? They’re playing another slow one.”
She answered with a crooked smile of her own and nodded. It might be stupid, but she’d take what he offered.
They didn’t speak during the dance, the final one of the evening. Mel and Finn had slipped away sometime earlier and the guests now began drifting away. She would spend tonight at her own apartment and move to their house the next morning, once they left for Kauai.
“Let me walk you to your car.”
“That’s not necessary, Hugh, but thanks. I am a cop, you know. I can take care of myself.”
“I know you can.” He followed her to the table where she’d left her purse. “But I’d be surprised if you have your gun stashed in that tiny purse. Besides, maybe I’m the one who needs your protection.”
She grinned at him and realized she’d enjoyed the last hour. When she managed to let go of her nerves, she was pleased to remember she had a personality buried not too far under the surface. He was fun to talk to and had a great sense of humor. She’d laughed more with him in the last hour or so than she had in quite a while. Crap. I’m in so much trouble.
Chapter Two
Hugh
Three days. That’s how long he managed to stay away from her. Pathetic. Yet here he was, parking his truck in front of his brother’s house after a long day at work. He didn’t even know if she was home. He grabbed the six-pack he’d stopped to pick up and called to his dog. “Let’s go, Bob. Maybe she’ll think you’re cute enough to let us in.”
She wasn’t home. He could hear Fluff barking as the doorbell rang, but she didn’t answer. A quick check of the garage showed him her car was there, parked alongside Finn’s Jeep. He knew Izzy had driven Finn and Mel to the airport in Mel’s new Honda CR-V, and then had taken it back to her place to make room for Chrissy’s car. A slight twinge of worry hit, but he told himself she was probably out for a walk or something. He made himself at home on the front porch and twisted the top off one of the beers. He was halfway through it when he realized she was most likely out on a date, and the guy had picked her up. Fine. Maybe I’ll just sit here until she gets home so I can check this guy out. There won’t be any goodnight kisses on the front porch if I’m here. He felt extremely satisfied with his plan as he took another long pull from his beer. But the thought of her out with some other guy ruined the taste.
Fifteen minutes later he saw her round the far corner at a run, then slow down to a walk, hands on her hips, breathing heavily. She didn’t see him until she turned up the walk to the house. His heart soared as he realized she wasn’t out with someone else.
“Hey, Chrissy.” He lost the battle to keep his eyes off her long legs. He could see even more of them in her tiny running shorts than he had in the dress the other night.
“Uh, hey, Hugh. Don’t you have a key?” She removed her earbuds and flopped down on the front step, leaning back on her elbows.
He watched the sweat trickle down the side of her face. Sweat shouldn’t be sexy, but it was on her. He imagined licking it off, then firmly shut that line of thought down. “Of course, but only for emergencies. I would never disrespect your privacy by using it while you’re here.”
“But you bust in on Finn and Mel whenever you please?”
“God, no. More than half the time I’d probably catch them doing stuff I don’t want to see. I’ll leave that to Cara.” He twisted the top off a beer and handed it to her.
“Thanks.” She tilted her head back and chugged. “Mmm. Why have I been bothering with water after a run? Beer is so much better.” She grinned at him. “And who is this?”
“That’s Bob.” The Golden Retriever had cozied up next to her and took a swipe with his long tongue at her salty neck. Hugh desperately wanted to take his place.
“Bob?” She laughed and playfully pushed the dog away. He came back for more and she soon had him on his back while she rubbed his belly.
“Yeah. I guess I’m not very creative when it comes to naming pets.” He stared as she played with his dog, unsure what to say or even why he was there.
“Do you want to come in? He won’t eat Fluff, will he?”
“Nah. Bob and Fluff are great friends. CJ doesn’t love him, but she ignores him, for the most part. I’d love to come in.” He gathered the beer and followed her inside. Fluff met them and pranced crazily around their feet. When he saw Bob, however, the humans were forgotten. The dogs trotted off, Bob squeezing himself through the smallish dog door to follow Fluff outside.
Chrissy grabbed a glass from the cabinet, treating Hugh to a tiny glimpse of her stomach as she reached. “You want some water?”
He shook his head. “Have you eaten yet?”
She smiled and shook her head while she drank the water. “I don’t think I have much here.”
“You want to order a pizza?” He held his breath as he waited for her answer.
“Hmm. How do you feel about Thai food?”
“Passionately.”
She chuckled. “Is that passionately positive or negative?”
“Definitely positive. The spicier the better. We could bring it back here. The backyard is gorgeous. I should know since I drew up the plans for it.”
“I’ll call in our order. Any chance you’d go pick it up while I grab a quick shower?”
He readily agreed, grateful she seemed to want to spend more time with him. The thought of her in the shower made him grab another beer while she phoned in their order. Forty minutes later, he let himself back in, juggling the bag of food and the bottle of chilled white wine he’d stopped for. Yes, he was trying to impress her. He didn’t want to stop to examine the reasons too closely, however.
She was on the back patio, setting out plates and napkins on the glass-topped wrought iron table. She’d changed into a short, sleeveless dress and her hair was still damp. “Ooh, wine. I’ll grab some glasses. Did you get chopsticks?”
“Of course. You look pretty.” God, had that sounded as clumsy as it felt?
She paused, her hand on the back door. “Thanks.”
He shook his head at his own stupidity as he plated the food. She returned with the wine glasses and a corkscrew and set about opening the wine and pouring them each a glass.
“Cheers.” She raised her glass.
“Sláinte.” He raised his own glass and touched it to hers.
“What does that mean? I’ve heard you say it before. Finn says it too.”
“It’s Irish for ‘good health.’ Our mother’s influence.” He took a sip of the Sauvignon Blanc he’d chosen to go with the Thai food.
“You have such an interesting family.” She sipped her own wine, then picked up her chopsticks and expertly used them to lift a chunk of green curry tofu to her mouth.
He was momentarily distracted by her pink tongue sneaking out to lick a stray bit of sauce from her lips. He cleared his throat and took a bite of his own red curry chicken. “You mean the whole Irish/Italian nightmare?” His mother had grown up in Belfast and met his father, a second-generation Italian immigrant, when she came to the United States for an exchange program. They’d taken turns naming their children, which explained why they had Hugh, Isabella, Finn, Cara, Seamus, and Antonio.
“Oh, I don’t know about ‘nightmare.’ It seems like you all get along pretty well.”
“We do, for the most part. I’m closest with Finn and Izzy. I’m so much older than the others I don’t always understand what they’re into.”
“You’re only thirty-four, Hugh. Hardly an old man.”
So, she had gone to the trouble of finding out his age? Interesting. “Sometimes it feels like it. Are you a vegetarian?” He waved his chopsticks at her tofu.
“No. I just lik
e tofu.”
“Really? I thought it was something vegetarians only put up with since they can’t have meat. I’ve heard it’s disgusting.”
“How have you reached the ripe old age of thirty-four and never tasted tofu? Here.” She picked up a chunk with her chopsticks and held it out toward him.
He raised his eyebrows, but leaned forward and took the bite from her.
“So? What do you think?”
“It’s chewy.”
She gave him an unimpressed look.
“But not terrible. It’s pretty innocuous, actually. It really soaks up the sauce, which is delicious. I’ve never tried the green curry. I always order red.”
She smiled. “Yeah. That’s why I like it. Do you mind?” She motioned with her chopsticks toward his plate.
He loved the idea of sharing food with her. It seemed so intimate, something a couple would do. “Help yourself.”
She chewed thoughtfully. “That’s really spicy. I like it.”
So, they ended up sharing from each other’s plates. They finished and were drinking the last of the wine, watching the gorgeous New Mexico sunset. He liked that neither seemed to feel the need to fill the occasional silence with inane chatter. It felt comfortable sitting here with her, and he realized that while he desired her as a woman—definitely, and in a bad way—he enjoyed her as a friend. He knew it would be better for his heart and peace of mind if they remained the latter.
“What about your family, Chrissy? Did you grow up here?”
“No. I grew up in El Paso. My parents and my younger sister still live there. I came here for college and never left. I love Albuquerque. It’s not nearly as hot as El Paso.”
“True. Do you visit often?”
“Not often enough, according to my mother.” She flashed him a wry grin. “They’re planning a visit here soon. They usually come up for Balloon Fiesta.”
“Are they staying with you?”
“No, thank God. I only have a one bedroom apartment. They always stay at a bed and breakfast in the South Valley.”
They sat for another few minutes before her cell phone buzzed. “Aww, dammit. I knew this was too good to be true.” She grabbed it, checked the number, and answered. “Yeah. This is Hart.” She listened for a few moments. “Okay. Send me the address. I’ll be there in fifteen.” She clicked off and let the phone drop to her lap as she leaned her head against the back of her seat. “Fucking criminals,” she muttered. “They have no respect for my time off.”
“You have to go in to work?”
She nodded without looking at him. “Double homicide. Shit.” She heaved herself out of her chair and reached for their plates.
Hugh took the plates from her. “I’ll clear this up. You go on. I’ll lock up when I’m done.”
She put her hands on her hips and laughed ruefully. “That would actually be great. Thanks, Hugh. I need to change.”
When she reappeared a few minutes later, she had changed into jeans and a button-up shirt with her shoulder holster and service weapon. She grabbed a navy blazer, put one arm in, and struggled to find the other. He saw her badge hanging on a chain around her neck.
Hugh set the dish towel aside and stepped behind her to help. “Here.” He settled the jacket on her shoulders and turned her to face him. “Be careful, okay?” He gave her a long look that said much more than his words had. Be safe. I care, more than I have any right to, but there it is.
“I always am.” She looked into his eyes. Thank you for caring. It’s nice to have someone at home who does.
He cleared his throat and they awkwardly stepped away from each other, the momentary connection broken.
“I’ve got to go.”
“Yeah. I’ll lock up.” He finished cleaning up their dishes, then spent a few minutes checking the timers and bubblers in the yard and plants outside, the batteries in the smoke detectors, and the locks on the new windows. He gave Fluff and CJ fresh water and a small treat each. When he could find nothing else to check, he found a piece of note paper in a downstairs desk drawer and scrawled a note.
Chrissy,
Please send me a text when you get home, no matter what time.
Hugh
He propped it against the clock on the nightstand in the guest bedroom. “Come on, Bob. Time to go home.” He locked his brother’s house and followed the dog to his truck.
***
Chris
She pulled her car into an available spot and sighed. She’d been having such a nice time with Hugh and hated to leave so abruptly. You could have knocked her over with a feather when she started up the walkway and saw him sitting on the porch. She hadn’t heard a word from him since the wedding and thought she must have imagined the connection they’d shared. Dancing with him had been amazing; the feel of his strong arms around her was something she could become addicted to. They’d laughed together and found so much to talk about after she’d suggested he buy her a beer. He’d joked about her being a cheap date since it was an open bar. She smiled as she remembered. He was definitely more serious than his brother. She supposed an outsider would consider him not quite as handsome as Finn, either. His hair was not quite as dark and his eyes were a lighter blue—almost icy—than Finn’s startling cobalt eyes, but whereas she’d always realized Finn was extremely good-looking, she’d never been attracted to him, not even briefly. She could not say the same for Hugh. She’d been a blithering idiot from the second they met. Something about him woke feelings deep inside her, like a sucker punch to the gut. But she feared he didn’t feel the same. But then why was he waiting on her porch? His mixed signals were making here head spin. Maybe she’d work up the courage and simply ask him about it. Yeah, right.
She forced herself out of the car and ducked under the yellow crime scene tape barring the path to the picnic area in the Foothills Open Space area. The Sandia mountains towered above the park, which was nestled at the foot of the range. One of the best things about living in Albuquerque was the proximity of this majestic mountain range. Chris often spent her weekends hiking the trails. This particular open space had been developed into a lovely park with paved paths and scenic stops, some containing stone picnic enclosures with tables and smooth concrete floors. The sun had set a half-hour or so before, but the nearly full moon provided enough light to navigate the narrow paved path. The rattlesnakes would all be sleeping at this time of night, so she had no worries about inadvertently stepping on one. She wrenched her gaze away from the rustic beauty of the surroundings and stepped into the stone enclosure. Portable lights had been set up to illuminate the scene. A photographer was clicking photos of the two bodies, one slumped across the picnic table, the other sprawled on the ground. Uniformed officers, a mixture of state and county, stood around talking and taking notes. “Hey, Dean. What have we got?” The coppery tang of blood mixed with the stench of vomit and shit filled the air. Not many people realized bodies often defecated shortly after death and at least one of these two had.
The photographer lowered his camera and stood straight. “Oh, hey, Chris. These two geniuses shot each other, judging by the look of things. Witness barfed in the corner.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake! And they couldn’t shoot each other in a city park so the local police would have to deal with it? They had to pick state land. I was on a date.” It was a bit of an exaggeration, but it had felt like a date.
“Oh, really? Who’s the lucky guy?” Dean was suddenly all ears.
Shit. Why couldn’t I keep my mouth shut? She didn’t want it spread around that she was lusting after her partner’s brother, especially since her partner knew nothing about it. “Oh, just a guy. No one special.” She leaned in for a closer look at the two victims, noting the head wound on the one slumped across the table. He’d been shot in the forehead and the back of his head was a bloody mess of hair, brain matter, and bone. Her green curry churned slightly in her stomach. She’d seen similar things on a regular basis over the last decade, but you never got totally im
mune to it. “Well, this guy died as soon as he was shot, so I’m guessing he fired first, unless there was someone else involved.” She moved to examine the other victim. He was sprawled across the dusty floor of the picnic enclosure, a large pool of blood beneath him. She noted animal prints tracking through the blood, but it didn’t appear as if the body had been chewed anywhere. Both victims were dressed in baggy blue jeans and t-shirts and had a plethora of visible tattoos. “This one is gut-shot. Looks like he bled out before he could get very far. I’m guessing this was a drug deal gone bad. Check their pockets for cash and drugs. Where’s the witness who called it in?”
“Next enclosure over.” Dean waved vaguely to the left and continued to snap photos.
“Holler when the coroner gets here.” Chris turned and trudged the fifty or so yards across an unpaved side path to the next enclosed picnic area. She could see how this out-of-the way nature trail would hold a lot of attraction for a sleazy drug deal; it was fairly remote, yet not far from the city, and the stone enclosures around the picnic tables offered privacy as well as a wind break. In the next one, a fifty-ish woman sat on the picnic bench facing outward, a leash clasped loosely in her hand. Her face under a short mop of salt-and-pepper hair was pale and chalky. The black and brown terrier at the end of the leash stood, tail wagging, as Chris approached. She squatted to pet the small dog. “Hello, ma’am.” She stood and held out her hand to the woman. “I’m Detective Hart with the New Mexico State Police. Can I get your name, address, and telephone number?” She retrieved a small notebook and pen from her pocket and began jotting down the woman’s information. Her name was Marilyn Davis and she lived about a mile away. “Can you tell me what happened here?”
