by B. T. Alive
“When you say destroy,” I said, “do you think Deanna really felt capable of murder?”
“I don’t know!” she said, more snippy than usual for Tina. “It’s not like I’d have a standard to judge that.”
“Then guess,” I pressed.
She hesitated. “I’m not sure. It’s… possible. But why would she kill Nyle?”
“Good point,” I said. “Maybe she thought Nyle was the real insult. Like, it was his brother, he should have known better than to chase the guy’s ex.”
“Yeah, that makes sense!” Tina said. Her eyes were bright with excitement, like we were already snapping on the handcuffs. “And Mercedes, who cared about her? She was just some bimbo.”
“Exactly,” I said. “And I love that you just said bimbo.”
“What?” she said, confused. “Is that like, not a thing?”
“It’s precious,” I said. “This whole place is like a time warp.”
“I know I’ve heard people say bimbo—”
“Forget it,” I said.
She darted me an anxious glance, and took a step away from me as we walked.
“Hey!” I said. “Come on! I promised!”
“Did you?” She smirked. “I don’t… remember.”
“Oh gosh. Fine, I promise,” I said. “You happy? And just so you know, I wouldn’t zap anyone for something like that.”
“Sorry,” she said. But she smiled with relief, and stepped back toward me.
“What I was going to say,” I said, as we approached the end of the hall, “was that we’ve got to go talk to Mercedes. See what you read with her.”
“It’s really not reading—” she said.
Abruptly, she halted, and clapped her hand to her mouth.
“What? What is it?” I said.
“Keegan!”
It took me a second to get her meaning. “Wait. We’re already hassling these people out of nowhere to pry about their dead relative. You want to show up with a parrot?”
“People love Keegan!”
“I thought you said you had to keep him in the tower.”
She flicked her bangs, impatient. “There was this one time, and honestly, I think Grandma overreacted.”
“To what?” I said. “What happened with the parrot?”
Tina frowned. “He has a name, you know.”
I rolled my eyes, but she went on. “Seriously, Keegan is very intelligent. And sensitive. I mean, there’s other telepathic African Greys—”
“Wait, what?” I said. “Telepathic parrots are a thing?”
“Of course,” she said. “They’ve done experiments; you can do a search and see the videos. African Grey parrots are the smartest, and they have to be highly trained. But even among African Greys, Keegan’s in a class of his own. I think Grandma’s partly afraid, deep down, that if word got out about him, some scientist would whisk him away.”
“Right. Plus this incident you’re not going to tell me about.”
“It’ll be fine,” she insisted. “We’ve got your zap, right? And the doctor’s on speed dial.”
“Speed dial?”
“It’s just an expression!” she said, flustered. “I bet lots of people still use speed dial.”
“Sure,” I said. “So they can call each other up and go to a sock hop.”
“Quit it!” Tina said. “Besides, a sock hop would be super fun.”
“Would it, though?” I said. “This town’s cute and all, but it doesn’t exactly seem oversupplied with eligible dudes.”
“Oh, you’d be surprised,” Tina said, with a mischievous look. “But let me get Keegan so we can wrap this up, okay? You just got here, there are so many better things to do in Wonder Springs besides this murder stuff! Especially when the weather’s so nice!”
I sighed. “Fine. But you’ve got to keep him under control.”
“Totally!” she said. “Stay right here, I’ll be right back.” And she sprinted off down the hall.
Call me overcautious, but I still had reservations about introducing myself to grieving relatives in tandem with a talking parrot.
But there was no point in worrying, so I strolled a few steps into the strange room at the hall’s end. To my surprise, the space opened around me into a wide, high, warm half-circle that was full of light and flowering plants. It was a solarium—a gorgeous sun room with cozy benches. A stream bubbled into a mini-pond, and a wall made entirely of glass offered a sweeping view of the main street.
The place was soothing… magical… simply steeped in peace.
And then he had to walk in.
The man who’d healed me. With the kind eyes and the scruffy handsome ache.
Wow.
Chapter 17
Let’s be clear: I am not usually the type to go all gaga over a dude just at sight.
I’ve been to meetings where some A-level exec struts in flexing his abs through his work shirt, and I’m thinking, dude, did the orthodontics for that stunning smile cost more than a year of college for your baby daughter? If a man clearly spends more time on his hair than I do, I’m swiping left.
Sure, if some Italian model feels the need to mow his lawn shirtless, I might get a few tingles. I’m human too. But what the hell would we ever talk about?
I’ve spent my whole career duking it out with males who expected my breathless feminine submission at the size of their bank account, or their title, or their astounding ability to tell people what to do. I’m really not into giving some random stranger my instant obsession because he knows how to grow a bicep.
So why was I now staring like an eighth-grader, with a shimmer buzzing from the back of my calves to the top of my head, feeling so light that I might float away?
He just seemed… real.
Too real, like the first red tulips in gray spring. I almost can’t look straight at them; it’s like they’ve cut through from a brighter world, too strong for my eyes.
It wasn’t that he enthralled you with his lean good looks; sure, I suppose he could grace a magazine cover, or at least a second-tier catalog for sweaters or something, but I don’t think he’d catch my eye. Not on paper.
What you first felt about this man was presence.
Even with the long solarium between us, he radiated a strength and calm at a level I’d never experienced, not with men running companies worth billions.
And he wasn’t even looking at me. A huge bright flower had caught his eye, some tropical bloom that would die outside, and he’d drawn near to study it with intense focus. I studied him, though with quick fitful glances, both yearning he’d look up to catch my eye and also terrified.
His skin was tanned deep, almost brown, with that rich, varied tone you can only get from working in the sun. His shortish haircut looked like it was meant to be low-maintenance, but his tight curls were spurting a bit shaggy. He wore brown work corduroys and a loose linen shirt with patterns stitched in the sleeves and collar.
What was it with embroidery in this town? The shirts Tina had lent me had a similar vibe… oh yeah, I was wearing one now. Somehow this made me absurdly self-conscious, a feeling which only spiked when I remembered that Tina had also tried to lend me sandals, but my feet were at least two sizes too big. So here I was about to make my first impression, with a calf-length skirt and… castoff sneakers.
I’ve heard that men barely notice shoes, but this has to be an urban legend.
As I ransacked my mind for solutions to my footwear crisis (I may or may not have considered kneeling) the outside door opened, and a woman walked in, a mousy blond.
Kitty Carter. Crud.
Considering how our “interview” had bombed, I had zero interest in Kitty bawling me out here in my sneakers, with this guy looking on.
Turned out, I shouldn’t have worried. Mr. Plant-Enthusiast-Healer-Dude took up all Kitty’s interest.
As she passed him, the mousy little woman couldn’t tear her gaze away, trying to catch his look with open hunger. She passed him a lot
closer than she needed to, but he still could have pretended to ignore her. Like, say, some jerk barista.
Instead, he glanced up, and his face transfigured in a warm smile.
“Afternoon,” he said, with a nod, and his voice sent an absurd thrill through my whole chest. I wondered if there was some way to keep him smiling longer, like, forever. If he were smiling on that sweater catalog, I might buy the whole store.
“Hi,” Kitty squeaked. She flushed, gave him a tight wave, and scurried away.
Which meant, she scurried toward me, but I bent to pretend to tie my shoes, and she rushed past. I was pretty sure she hadn’t even seen me.
While I was down there, I took a moment to reflect. Now that I’d broken visual contact, my helpful neocortex was getting her chance to ream me out.
What are you THINKING? You’re trying to catch a KILLER here, Summer! This is NO TIME to SUCCUMB to some HUMILIATING COUNTRY CRUSH!
(My neocortex can be emphatic.)
It was true. I don’t fall hard very often, especially on sight, but the few times I had, it hadn’t ended well. For various reasons.
The thing to do was to take action. Just go right up and introduce myself, like any normal adult. Nothing vaporizes an obsession like actual conversation.
Besides, my neocortex added, you two ALREADY “met”. You were passed out and probably drooling. Sleeping Beauty… with a skin condition and a long day’s worth of B.O.
Actually, I’m not quite sure that really was my neocortex. I might have just been channeling a dead malicious aunt. If I had one.
Anyway, I’d already decided. I stood, walked right up, and said, with friendly confidence, “Hey! I’m Summer. I never got the chance to touch you.”
He startled hard, and stared at me like I might pounce.
“Thank!” I gasped. “Never got the chance to thank you. For the other night.”
His eyebrows shot right up to his manly curls.
“The healing thing!” I said. I could feel my face flushing to the tips of my ears. “With my wrist?”
I held up the arm in question. The conversation had plunged to a level where we needed to rely on visual aids.
It worked. “Oh!” he said, in that unfairly gorgeous Southern lilt, and his face cleared. “Oh, that. No problem.” We had full-on eye contact for a few throbbing milliseconds, but then he flicked away to eye some fascinating spot on the wall. “Glad to help.”
“Well, I really appreciate it,” I insisted, with a banality that was almost surreal. It felt like I was thanking the guy for changing my tire, not magically healing some disgusting spreading skin blight cast by an assassin sorcerer. “I mean, you took time out of your evening… Friday night…”
“No no, it’s fine,” he said. “Anything for Grandma.”
“Right, of course… I didn’t mean—”
“Oh, ouch!” he said. He frowned, staring not quite in my eyes.
“What? What is it?” I said, bewildered. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, it’s you. That looks painful. Hold still.”
I had no idea what he was talking about, but he reached for my face, and I instinctively froze. His fingers hovered just below my eyes… we weren’t quite touching, but I could feel his warmth, smell the sun-drenched fragrance of earth and tree bark and life… and then right at the tip of my nose, a tiny tingle tickled.
“You’re healing my zit?” I cried.
“All done,” he said cheerfully, and withdrew his hand. “Small stuff is quick.”
“I don’t believe this!” I said. I felt exposed, humiliated… I couldn’t even see the damn thing. I had to stand there and rub my nose to confirm it was gone. The skin felt absolutely clear… like, nicer than since childhood. For the next half hour or so, I could probably be a nose model.
He looked confused. “Does it still hurt?”
“Is this your life purpose?” I said. “You go around leaving smooth female skin wherever you pass? You’re like a human moisturizer!”
His cheeks tinged, and he flicked his glance away again. “I’m not sure I should unpack that one.”
“I’m not sure you should mess with people’s bodies without asking!”
He raised an eyebrow. “I was removing a zit.”
“You should have asked,” I said. “Maybe I wanted that zit. Maybe I was maintaining it as a spiritual practice, to overcome ancient insecurity from high school.”
“You were?”
“No! That doesn’t matter! I can’t believe you’d just assume…”
Now he frowned. “We are talking about a zit?”
“You know, a normal person would have been like, ‘Hi! Nice to meet you! I’m going to politely ignore your tiny, temporary flaw, instead of acting like it’s some disfigurement so compelling that I have to instantly bust out my magic, and not even bother to check whether you care about how I think a woman should look!’”
His frown broke, twitching into a cheerful half-smile. “I suppose that’s fair.”
“Really?” I blurted, in a breathy, all-is-forgiven tone for which I instantly hated myself. A slight concession wasn’t the same as an apology, even if it did come with a mind-altering smile. Not that I could remember the last time I had made any concessions in the heat of an argument… no, don’t do that, I thought, don’t you try to justify him just so you can keep basking in his smile… wow, that smile…
Behind me, a voice chirped, “You are so crazy hot.”
Both he and I jolted, and I whipped around, my cheeks burning, to see who had read my mind.
But I already knew. Keegan the parrot was perched on Tina’s hand, working his beak in a silent cackle of glee.
“Cade!” Tina said, with bright eyes and a glowing smile. “What are you doing here?”
“Hey, Tina!” he said, straightening and smiling and generally lighting up into a beacon of masculine force. “I just came over to check on Summer.”
Oh really, I thought, with a sour twinge. It didn’t take an empath to see how this Cade guy was reacting to Tina. I bet he’d planned this… he was just using me as a pretext to see her! Damn it.
“That’s so nice of you!” Tina said, and she pounced on Cade with a lingering, very friendly hug. Somehow she managed this while still holding Keegan, who wound up giving Cade an affectionate peck on the ear.
One big happy family. Good for them.
I endured this vortex of mutual attraction for as long as I could, which was maybe five seconds (though it felt like five hundred), and then I cleared my throat. “Yeah, thanks, Cade,” I said, as politely as I could. “But now that you know my skin is perfectly clear… Tina and I do have to get to work.”
“Already?” he said, as they slowly disengaged. “It’s not the dinner rush yet, is it?”
“Shockingly, I didn’t mean work in the kitchen,” I said. “We’re actually working on—”
“Grandma stuff!” Tina cut in. “Summer’s right, Cade, we’ve got to go. Nice to see you! Don’t be a stranger!” She tapped his bare forearm for one last touch, then glanced my way and started walking down the hall.
“Thanks,” he said, beaming. “I’ll be around.”
Then his bright smile dimmed as he gave me a polite nod.
“Nice to meet you,” he said. “I’ll try to be less… intrusive.”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’m not staying long.”
Was that a flash of disappointment that crossed his face?
No. It was me deluding myself. Now I had one more reason to solve this stupid murder and get out of Wonder Springs.
The last thing I needed was to fall for some dude who was Tina’s pick. That would be a contest that could only end in pain.
Chapter 18
The first thing I noticed in Mercedes’ room was a pair of pretentious purple silk boxers. Crumpled on the carpet, clearly untouched since being dropped by Nyle.
I found this unexpected intimacy revolting… and I wondered what trash I’d leave behind one
day for the hands of strangers.
I suppose I’d expected Mercedes to have tidied everything up by now, but really, how fair was that? I’d never thought about the endless needling details after death, the widow having to strip the sheets and empty the bedpan one last time.
Mercedes seemed to be avoiding it all, gingerly picking her way among Nyle’s detritus as if she were afraid to leave her prints. She had a suitcase open on her side of the double bed, and she was jamming cosmetics into it with quick anxious jerks. Long strands of her dark hair were coming loose and dangling over the shaven pink sides, and the unkempt look made her seem even more… haunted.
She’d flicked us a glance when we’d first knocked and come in, but apparently she hadn’t noticed the parrot. Now she did.
“What the hell?” she cried. But then her surprise cleared to admiration. “What a beautiful animal!”
“Thank you,” chirped Keegan.
This kind of freaked me out… could he also converse? Then I noticed Tina’s pleased smile, and I wondered whether she’d thought what he said. Or maybe she’d just trained him to reply to standard compliments. Still, if you practiced, could you use this parrot as a sort of telepathic puppet?
And why was I even thinking that? This town was so strange.
But Mercedes just laughed, and a few of the worry lines faded from the corners of her mouth. “You are a cutie,” she told Keegan. She walked around the bed to where Tina and I were standing at the entrance, and she gently touched the long red feathers in his black tail. “I think I might take you home.”
“Home to Lionel,” chirped Keegan.
Mercedes startled and scowled at us, hard. “What did he say?”
Whoops. I guess if I was going to bring along a telepathic parrot, I had to be a lot more careful what I was thinking. Fabulous.
“I’m so sorry,” I said. “I can see where that would be startling. We were just up chatting with Lionel and Deanna, that’s all—”
“Oh, I see,” Mercedes said. “And they must have been thrilled to tell a couple of random hotel staff all about my thing with Lionel.”
“No, no, not really,” I said hastily. “They didn’t get into detail.”