Chapter 5
“And they put you where?” Deputy Bobby asked. He was too kind to laugh, but his whole face shone with amusement.
We were sitting on a bench, looking out at the beach, enjoying our ice cream cones. (Chaleena had given them to us gratis since we were now, officially, heroes. My choice of words.) The sun hung over the ocean, and the water shone like rumpled foil.
“You know where they put me,” I said. “I’m not saying it again just so you can—can get your jollies.”
The thing about Deputy Bobby is that his real smile, the best one, is this huge, goofy grin that looks totally out of place on his normally serious face. I caught a glimpse of it before he bent over his ice cream cone. (Suspicious timing, in my opinion.)
“In my defense,” I said, “they were holding me at gunpoint.”
“Glue gunpoint.”
(Yes, fine—it had been a glue gun from the craft fair.)
But I said, “What was that?”
Deputy Bobby cleared his throat, and it was several moments before he seemed able to speak. Finally he said, “And this was after the old ladies beat you up and took your wallet?”
“Okay, you know what? I don’t have to put up with this kind of abuse. I’m a hero.”
But when I tried to get to my feet, Deputy Bobby caught my arm, laughing.
And maybe I’m an idiot, but it was kind of nice, the way he pulled me back down onto the bench.
When his laughter had faded, Deputy Bobby considered me over the ice cream cone. He had a nice mouth: a full lower lip and sparkly white teeth. Big surprise—Deputy Bobby had a nice everything.
(Oh my God, that is not what I meant. Get your mind out of the gutter.)
“It’s always something new with you,” Deputy Bobby said.
“Trust me, I know.”
“It’s not a bad thing.”
“Oh, it’s definitely a bad thing. Who else gets sucked into investigating a smuggling ring run by the Golden Girls who also happen to be using a local craft fair as their cover?”
His real grin, the big, goofy one, flashed out again, but his tone was mock-serious as he said, “Well, you’re a hero.”
I snorted.
“You did a good thing today,” he said. “You helped a lot of people.” A hint of the goofy smile came back. “And you solved the case of the missing ice cream cone.”
“That was the only part I really cared about.”
I’d meant it as a joke, but it fell strangely flat.
He was still looking at me. He didn’t do anything.
Nothing happened. But somehow, suddenly, everything was different, and something about how he was looking at me made the bottom drop out of my stomach.
I scrambled to find something to say, and the best I could come up with was “We make a good team.”
Deputy Bobby arched his eyebrows.
“Fighting crime,” I said. “Stopping bad guys.”
He made a soft, small noise that could have meant anything.
And then I really had to say something because it felt like the conversation had turned into quicksand. I heard myself babbling, “You know, you’re like the brawn. Well, and the brains.”
He made that little noise again.
“And I’m—uh, I’m like the frosting.”
His mouth twitched. He leaned closer. I could smell the sweetness of his breath, the hint of chocolate from the ice cream. His hand cupped the side of my face, and his thumb brushed lightly across my cheekbone.
My lips parted. I leaned forward. I didn’t let myself think about it.
Listen: I’m a human being. And, at that, a very stupid one.
And then Deputy Bobby sat back, held up his hand, and displayed an eyelash on his thumb.
His expression was unreadable, and for a time, neither of us said anything.
I could still feel the way his hand had felt, cupping my face, and the pleasant friction of his touch.
The sound of the ocean rolled into the space between us, and a gull wheeled across the sky.
Then he smiled and said quietly, “Make a wish.”