One Hot Mess Part 22

"Out loud?"

"She was a big influence on me."

"How so?"

He smiled again. "I thought we were talking about Kathy."

I was appalled at myself. I wasn't interested in this guy! Yes, he was good-looking and intelligent and funny, but he was liable to wind up in jail soon for s.e.xual misconduct, and I wanted no part of that. "Of course. Thank you." I smoothed my jacket. "Why was everyone smitten?"

He glanced toward the bar. The stools had long wooden legs and brown fringed cus.h.i.+ons. None was unoccupied.

"Seven months ago Arty Netz thought it'd be a good idea to run his crotch rocket into Mrs. Parker's retaining wall. Town had a spaghetti dinner and silent auction to help pay hospital bills. Kathy donated a dining-room set. Solid oak with matching chairs. All handmade."

"Furniture? That's what it takes to smite a whole town?"

"We're easy in Edmond Park."

"Something I noticed upon our first meeting."

He grinned and raised his drink. "Every school bake sale, she'd donate one of those tier cakes. She used to decorate for some fancy restaurant in L.A."

"Do you know which one?"

"I didn't think that was going to be part of the foreplay."

I gave him a look. "We agreed there wouldn't be any foreplay."

"I thought you'd change your mind when you saw my manly arms."

He did have manly arms, but I didn't say as much. "What else do you know about her?"

"She made regular donations to the church."

"Which church?"

"All of them."

"A good Christian woman, then."

He tilted his head and said nothing.

"No?"

"If she was affiliated with any religion, I didn't know about it."

I thought about that for a minute. "Did she ever say anything about the time she spent campaigning for Senator Rivera?"

"Not to me."

"To whom, then?"

He shrugged. "Sometimes folks would visit her from out of town."

"Any names that you can remember?"

"Did I mention my IQ?"

I made a face. "Names."

"There was a guy named Cal Bentley who came a couple times a year."

"Anyone else?"

"Believe it or not, I have a few other things to do than to catalog the comings and goings of Edmond Park's citizenry."

"Yeah?" Our meals arrived. I refrained from inhaling mine like a hippo on an alligator and instead made a decisive yet ladylike incision into the meat. "Like what?"

He tasted a bite of his saffron rice. "Sometimes Miss Mable's cat gets caught in her cottonwood tree."

"I thought that was a job for the fire department."

"We draw straws."

Okay so he was good-looking, tall, and self-effacing, but I didn't care about that sort of thing. I tasted the prime rib and felt my salivary glands light up like Roman candles. "Why'd you choose the police force?" I asked.

He smiled. "Mom said women liked men in uniform. Why psychology?"

I considered lying. "There are a lot of nut-jobs. I thought it would be a lucrative field."

He laughed. "Not enough crazies in Schaumburg?"

I stopped eating long enough to really look at him. He had laughing eyes, but there was something solid and hard behind them. "You must be short of cats," I said.

He gave me a look.

"You've got an awful lot of time to check up on innocent people."

"Like you?"

"That is who I was referring to."

"I never considered that your previous place of residence might be a secret."

I let it go with some difficulty. "How did your mother influence you, besides the penchant for using antiquated words and flas.h.i.+ng badges?"

He shrugged. "I got her eyes."

"What'd you get from your dad?"

"Not much," he said, but something sparked in his aforementioned eyes. "How about you?"

"How about me what?" I wanted to follow up about his dad but reminded myself I wasn't there to learn about him.

"You left your family two thousand miles behind. What's that all about?"

I tasted my salad. It needed more dressing, but I refrained from dumping the remainder of the little pitcher onto the lettuce. Go, me. "I couldn't help them."

He stared at me a moment, then laughed. The sound was soothing somehow. "Too crazy?" he asked.

"The prognosis was grim."

"Well..." He glanced toward the hostess. She was rather attractive, if you like the tall, blond, so-pretty-it-makes-your-eyes-water type, but he didn't quite seem to notice. "It's not uncommon."

"Anyone specific in your family?" I asked.

He brought his gaze back to mine, smiled a little. "How do you feel about multiple partners?" he asked.

I gave him a look that should have withered any possibility of future offspring. "I believe we had an agreement."

"Temporary insanity. How's the beef?"

I dabbed my mouth primly with the napkin. "Very nice."

He'd eaten all his salad but was neglecting his salmon. "Are you gay?" he asked.

"What?"

He watched me, but if he was mocking me I couldn't feel it. In fact, it almost seemed that there was admiration in his eyes. "You're either uninterested or d.a.m.n unlucky."

"What are you talking about?"

"You would have been married years ago if you wanted to be," he said. "Not all men are a.s.sholes, Chrissy."

I blinked at him, considered disagreeing, and decided against it. "Anyone you know?"

He glanced away for a second. Maybe there was a moment of tension on his face. "You'd probably do well to avoid police officers."

"Meaning you?"

"Actually, I was talking about Lieutenant Rivera, but now that I say it, I see how you could have misunderstood my meaning."

The waitress had delivered the check in its little plastic notebook. He stuck a credit card in it and handed it back.

"It was a reach," I said.

"I'm pretty straightforward," he said. "I like s.e.x-if I remember correctly I like it quite a bit. I mean... I like women in general, but... I'm not looking for a relations.h.i.+p."

"Why not?"

He paused for a second before answering. "My ex liked s.e.x, too. Only not so much with me as with others."

"Oh." I watched him. Something flittered through his eyes. "I'm sorry."

His lips twitched up. "Sorry enough to sleep with me?"

I ignored the question. "How long were you married?"

"Five years. I thought they were pretty good years. I mean, we weren't dancing on rooftops or anything but..." He shrugged. "We weren't crying in the cellar, either. At least not enough for her to cheat on me."

"With whom?"

He thought about that for a second, face solemn. "I don't think there were any goats involved."

"Always a relief."

He looked at me and laughed. "This Rivera-is he blind or just d.a.m.n stupid?" he asked, and there was something in his voice that made me feel a little soupy.

"Could be a little of both." I stood up. He stood up beside me. I'm tall. He was taller. Despite everything I've learned about men and women and life in general, I can't help but think that taller's better.

"There's a lot of stupid going around," he said, and looked down into my eyes.

He was standing pretty close. Not touching, but close enough so I could feel the heat of his arm. We had enough celibacy between us to commit a felony.

"I brought that affidavit if you've changed your mind," he said.

"Affidavit?" I sounded a little breathless, a little disoriented, a whole lot crazy.

"The one that says you'd like to have s.e.x with me."

I was staring at him. His arms were handsomely muscled and lightly tanned. His chest was broad and his chin dimpled. He was a Ken doll with audio.

"Say you want to have s.e.x with me," he urged.

"I-" I began, but then I felt something. A spark so fierce it jerked at something deep inside me. I turned like a broken puppet, only to find that Lieutenant Jack Rivera was standing not five feet away.

19.

When blondes have more fun, do they know it?

-Brainy Laney b.u.t.terfield,