Chapter 17
Theo
It was a good thing school and coaching kept me so busy. Otherwise I would have been in trouble. What sort of trouble? The guy-who-hugged-his-roommate-and-probably-shouldn’t-have sort.
A week after hugging Pen in my kitchen, I still thought about it. I didn’t want to admit how often. But damn it, she’d felt amazing. The way she’d melted against me had been better than scoring a game-winning touchdown.
It had been tempting to hold her again after telling her about the job, but I’d held back. I hadn’t trusted myself to touch her like that without doing something stupid. Like kissing her.
I couldn’t go there. She was still recovering from a breakup. What she needed was a good friend, not a make-out session in the kitchen.
But I was going to have to live with the knowledge of how good she felt, and that I was never going to feel her like that again.
So I threw myself into work, which, to be fair, wasn’t hard. I had classes to teach, tests to grade, and lesson plans to tweak. Parent meetings and a staff lunch. Not to mention football, which was almost a full-time job in itself.
After a busy week at school, and another Timberwolves win, I got up Saturday morning with one thing on my mind.
Okay, two.
One was Penelope. Her bedroom door was open, but the door to her art studio was closed. That probably meant she was in there painting. Despite the strange pull I felt urging me to go see her, I resisted the temptation and went to the kitchen to make coffee.
The second thing—and the one I was determined to focus on—was the question of whether Edwin Morris had been murdered.
Pen and I had already talked about the possibility that there were notes in other paintings, but with everything else we had going on, we hadn’t figured out how to find them.
She’d mentioned the painting at her grandma’s assisted living facility, and the possibility we could find a way to snoop around and check it.
But that was only one painting. Ideally, we wanted to check more.
The gallery seemed like the best place. But how could we check there for secret notes without getting caught? It wasn’t as if we could waltz in and ask permission to remove the frames.
And unless we could really narrow it down, anyone could be a suspect. Amanda and Michael had possible motives, but there was too much we didn’t know. We couldn’t let anyone find out that we’d found a note in the painting or that we were investigating Morris’s death.
Leaning against the counter, I sipped my coffee. The idea hit me like a bolt of lightning and I almost dropped my mug.
Disguises.
I was either completely nuts or freaking brilliant. It remained to be seen. I found my phone and grabbed my laptop, taking them to the dining table. Sucking down my coffee like it was the elixir of life, I set about figuring out how to make my plan work.
About half an hour and another cup of coffee later, I rushed down the hallway and knocked on Pen’s art studio door.
“Hey, Pennifer?” I called.
“Come in.”
I opened the door and found Penelope looking like a hot mess.
She held a paintbrush in one hand and a palette in the other.
Her oversized T-shirt was paint-splattered, and her leggings had a hole in the knee.
Her bun drooped to one side, and, to top it all off, she had a big stroke of blue paint across her cheek.
She was adorable.
“Morning,” she said.
“Do you have a minute?”
“I have lots of minutes. I’m just working on a painting.”
“Good. You know how we were talking about the note, and that we should see if we can find more?”
She nodded, her eyes brightening with interest.
“I have an idea. But we need to get moving. Marigold has time between clients, but we need to get to her salon soon.”
She blinked at me in confusion. “Marigold?”
“My sister-in-law. She owns Timeless Beauty.”
“I know who she is. I’ve seen her at the football games. But what does she have to do with finding out whether Morris left more notes?”
I checked the time on my phone. “I’ll explain in a little bit. For now, you have paint on your face.”
“Oops.” She seemed to have forgotten she had a paintbrush in her hand and swiped another streak of blue across her cheek. “Did I just make it worse?”
My mouth turned up in a grin. Damn, she was cute. “Little bit.”
“Shoot.”
“It’s okay. But do you mind getting cleaned up? And put on something nice, like a dress. It’s all part of the plan.”
She shrugged. “Okay. Just give me a few.”
While Pen got ready, I went to my room to change clothes. My plan called for a certain look. Thankfully, I had a nice suit. That was one good thing about half my brothers getting married recently.
Decked out in my slate gray suit with a dark blue tie, I combed my hair off my face and added a bit of pomade. Checking my reflection in the bathroom mirror, I nodded. It should work.
“Theo, is this too fancy?” Pen called.
I stepped out of my room and my jaw dropped.
Pen stood in the living room, a knockout in a curve-hugging dark red dress. She was busy messing with her hair and didn’t quite look at me as she continued.
“I don’t know why I grabbed this dress when I was packing. Of all the dresses I could have chosen, this is the least likely to get worn. What was I think—”
Looking up, she stopped mid-sentence, and her jaw dropped. “Wow, Theo,” she said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a suit.”
Glancing down at myself, I tugged at the lapels of my jacket. “Not bad, right?”
“You look amazing.”
A flash of heat swept through me as I looked her up and down. I probably shouldn’t have been gazing at her like that, but I’d never seen her in something so sexy.
“So do you.”
Pressing her lips together, she ran her hands down her hips. That did not help the hard-on situation.
“Is this okay?” she asked.
“Oh, yeah.” I cleared my throat. “You look perfect.”
The blush that crept across her cheeks heightened the pressure in my groin. I needed to stop looking at her like she was on the menu. That was not happening.
“I just need to do something with my hair,” she said. “Or do I? Marigold?”
“Nope, you don’t need to do a thing. Mari will take care of it.”
“All right. I guess I’m ready.”
I had to resist the urge to guide her to my truck with a hand on the small of her back. And the temptation to watch her ass while she walked.
Eyes up, Theo. She’s your friend.
The fall air was chilly, but the sun was bright, and I slipped on a pair of sunglasses when we got in my truck.
“So why are we dressed like I’m your date for a wedding?” Pen asked.
I backed up and pulled out into the street. “Okay, check this out. We need access to the paintings in the gallery, but we don’t want anyone to know what we’re doing.”
“Because anyone could be a suspect.”
“Exactly.” I held out my fist and she bumped it. I loved it when we were on the same page. “Even people at the gallery. So we’re going in disguise.”
“This is a solid plan. Who are we?”
“I’m billionaire Shepherd Calloway, and you’re my wife, Everly. I think we look pretty good, except Everly is blond. Which is where Marigold comes in. I called her and she has a wig you can use.”
“How did you land on a billionaire and his wife?”
I shrugged. “Wealthy people collect art. I figured no one would raise an eyebrow if a billionaire and his wife come to the gallery.”
“True. They’re real people?”
“Yeah. I googled handsome billionaires and found Calloway. They live in Seattle, so it’s perfect.”
“Handsome?” She snort-laughed.
“Hey.” I pulled down my sunglasses and eyed her over the top of them. “I clean up good.”
“You’re okay. If you like that kind of thing.”
I chuckled.
Timeless Beauty wasn’t far—nothing was far in our town—and I found a parking spot right out front. We got out and I held the door to Mari’s salon so Penelope could go in first.
Stacey, Marigold’s front desk person, greeted us as we walked in. “Hi. Can I help you?”
“We’re here to see Marigold.”
“Sure. Do you have an appointment?”
I took off my sunglasses. “Sort of. I called her this morning. She knows we’re coming.”
Stacey blinked. “Oh, Theo. Sorry, I didn’t recognize you. I’ll let her know you’re here.”
I winked at Penelope. My plan was already working.
“Hi, Theo,” Marigold said, her voice friendly, as she came out to the lobby. Her long brown hair was pulled up off her face and she wore a navy blue dress.
“Hey, Mari. Thanks for squeezing us in.”
“Not a problem. My schedule is packed today, which is a good thing, but this won’t take long.”
“Do you know my friend, Penelope?” I gestured to her. “Pen, this is my sister-in-law, Marigold.”
“Hi,” Pen said with a shy wave. “I don’t think we’ve met, although I’ve seen you before. That sounded creepy. I just mean I’m usually at the football games and you are, too. You know, with your whole family. And I’m just there because I work there.”
“Pen’s the art teacher,” I said. “And…um…my roommate.”
Marigold’s eyebrows lifted. “Oh. That’s news.”
“Yeah, kind of a long story.”
Marigold turned to Pen. “It’s so nice to meet you. Can I give you a hug? I’m a hugger.”
Penelope adjusted her glasses. “I love hugs.”
Marigold hugged her, then gestured to the back of the salon. “Let’s get you all ready. I have a gorgeous wig for you.”
We followed Mari back to her station and Penelope sat in the chair.
Marigold ran her fingers through Pen’s hair, brushing it out. “Penelope, your hair is gorgeous. Is this your natural color?”
She nodded. “I’ve never been brave enough to dye it.”
“You certainly don’t need to. It’s beautiful. But let’s have some fun making you blond for the day.”
“I’ve never worn a wig before.”
“Don’t worry. They’re easier than they seem.”
Penelope took her glasses off, and I blinked a few times at her reflection in the mirror.
“Wow, Pen. You look so different without your glasses.”
“Do I?” Her cheeks flushed a slight shade of pink, and she slipped them back on.
“Yeah. Take them off again.”
She did, and it was like watching her turn into a different person. “I guess I’m just not used to it,” I said.
“I probably look better with them off, but I’ve never been able to wear contacts. They dry my eyes out.”
“No, you look great with them on. Just different. I never understood how Clark Kent could just put on glasses and no one knew he was Superman. But now I kinda get it.”
Her smile and soft laugh made my chest feel tight. I really liked making her laugh.
Marigold got to work, and if Penelope had looked different without glasses, she was completely unrecognizable once Marigold put the wig on her. Instead of long, dark brown hair, she had thick blond waves that cascaded around her shoulders.
To be fair, brown hair looked better on her—probably because it was her natural color. Marigold would have explained it better than I could.
But the blond wig was kinda hot.
Marigold fluffed the wig and smoothed down the hair around her face. “What do you think?”
“I don’t even look like me,” Penelope murmured, gazing with wonder at her reflection.
“It’s perfect,” I confirmed. “Nice job, Mari.”
“Thank you,” she said with a smile.
I tried to pay Marigold for her time, and for the use of her wig, but she refused.
She hugged Penelope again on our way out, and there was something about it that tugged at my chest again.
I knew Pen was a little shy, and Mari was the type of person to make friends with just about everybody—and mean it.
So when Mari asked for Pen’s number so they could have coffee sometime, it was touching.
Holding the door open, I let Penelope go through, then put my sunglasses back on.
“All right, remind me who I am again?” Pen asked.
“My wife,” I said and tried to ignore the way it felt to say those words to her. “Everly Calloway. And I’m your husband, Shepherd.”
“What if the gallery assistant knows who they are?”
He shrugged. “I’m not worried about it. If we’re questioned too closely, we can just act offended and leave.”
“That’s true. All right, Shepherd. How do I look?”
She fluffed her blond wig and turned in a little circle. I stifled a groan. Dangerous. That was how she looked.
“Hot,” I said, then coughed as if I could cover up the word. “Perfect. You look perfect. Except…”
“Except what?”
“I’m pretty sure Everly Calloway doesn’t wear glasses, so…” I reached out and gently slipped them off her face. “There. Disguise complete.”
“You realize I’m almost blind without them.”
I held them up to my face and peered through the lenses. The world was a distorted mess. “Geez, Pen. You really are blind.”
“I told you. How am I going to look for secret notes if I can’t see?”
“Once we’re inside, take them out of your purse and put them on. Like they’re reading glasses, something you don’t wear all the time.”
She smiled. “Good plan. I can do that. But seriously, I’m going to need to hold your arm so I don’t trip over things.”
“Don’t worry, Penlock Holmes. I’ve got you.”
“It’s Everly Calloway, thank you very much.”
“Oh, of course. Sorry, my lovely wife.”
Her nervous giggle sent a rush of heat to my groin. Damn it, I was trying really hard not to get turned on by her in that dress. But I hadn’t been kidding—she was hot as hell. It wasn’t the wig, it was the whole package.
And my package was paying attention.
She put her glasses in her purse, and when I held out my arm, she tucked her hand in the crook of my elbow, and we started up the sidewalk.