A Hot Flash of Homicide: Flamingo Cove Book One

by Dawn Dugle

  Now, I was getting hangry.

  I went back into the kitchen and opened the fridge. There was just enough milk for tomorrow's latte, some moldy cheese and a pizza box.

  "When was the last time I had pizza?" I asked my house. But as we have already established, she doesn't like to answer me. She just sat in silent judgement as I opened the box and breathed in a smell similar to that of the day's dumpster diving adventure. The box and the cheese went into the trash. I grabbed my keys and headed out the door.

  ∞∞∞

  Chapter Four

  I pulled up to Bellissimo Italian Restaurant around seven o'clock. Normally, my budget-consciousness called for me to park in the free lot next door, but it was my birthday, damn it, so I decided to valet park my 12-year-old Ford Edge.

  Kirk purchased the car for me when he found out I was pregnant, saying it was a safe suitable car for a mom-to-be. But the Edge never saw a car seat added. Maybe that's why Kirk let me keep it in the divorce.

  A cacophony of ringing phones and loud conversations hit me like a brick wall when I opened the door. It was Thursday night at the hottest restaurant in town, and it was packed. I had to turn sideways to get to the hostess stand where she asked me if I had a reservation (I did not) and would I like to wait (I would not) and would I like to sit in the bar (I would).

  "They serve the full dinner menu in there, if you're interested in eating," the hostess added. I nodded and waded through the throng like a salmon swimming upstream.

  The side bar ran the length of the restaurant, and turned to a short "L" at the far end. There was enough space for two stools on the short part of the bar and I could see one seat was still open. I made my way through the bar crowd toward the empty seat.

  Loser. Party of One. I thought as I sat down.

  "Excuse me?" I heard a deep voice ask.

  I looked to my right, where the voice had come from. It's not often I'm rendered speechless. I am a natural-born smartass with the gift of gab and I never met a stranger, so when I say that I was speechless when the most beautiful man in the world turned toward me, that would be an understatement. I was gobsmacked.

  This God Among Men had salt and pepper hair that looked like it was always perfect, without any hair products. It was the perfect length for running your hands through. Where in the world did that come from?

  He was making a hard face at me, frowning. Even in his frown, I could see that his face was so symmetrical, they probably used it in art classes, especially with that strong jaw and masculine cheekbones. He had thick eyebrows, one of which had a tiny white scar where no hair grew. But it was the eyes beneath those eyebrows that stopped me cold. He had one brown eye and one blue eye. A flaw that made him even more gorgeous, if that was possible.

  And those eyes were boring holes right down into my soul.

  I shook my head to jumpstart my brain. "I'm sorry, what?"

  His frown got deeper. "Did you just call me a loser?"

  "Uh, no," I laughed nervously. "Did I say that out loud? I was actually calling myself a loser."

  "I find that hard to believe," he sniffed.

  "Do you now?" I arched an eyebrow as I sat on the bar stool.

  "You don't look like a loser to me," he stared at me. Then he smiled.

  That smile. Apparently my brain and my ability to speak weren't the only ones affected by this creature from the heavens, my stomach decided to stop complaining and start fluttering nervously, like a virgin on her wedding night. I started to giggle, and I wasn't sure if I would be able to stop.

  "What if I told you today was my birthday and I haven't even had any chocolate yet?"

  "I'd say we need to remedy this right away," the God Among Men signaled the bartender. "A bottle of Perrier Jouet, two glasses and a chocolate flourless torte for the birthday lady here."

  "It's your birthday?" The bartender asked. "Happy Birthday!"

  "Thank you," I smiled as the bartender took off to put in the order. I turned to look at my new friend. "I am so sorry, I should have asked if this seat was taken."

  I started to stand, but the God Among Men grabbed my wrist and pulled me back down onto the stool. "You're fine. I was here alone. But now I'm not."

  Did they just turn up the heat in here?

  I was at a loss of what to say again, but was saved by the bartender who returned with the Champagne, a silver bucket of ice and two crystal flutes. He popped the cork, drawing the attention of everyone in the bar, then poured the golden deliciousness into the glasses.

  "May I propose a toast," the God Among Men said, raising his glass. "Here's to wisdom, may it come with age."

  He tipped his glass toward mine and I threw my head back and let out a very unladylike barking laugh. He looked confused and sat down his glass. I laughed so hard, I was blinking away tears.

  "Something I said?" He asked.

  "No. No..." I gasped and tried to stop laughing. "But my name is Wysdom."

  "No shit!" This God Among Men started laughing along with me. It took a good two minutes for the laughter to die down. I looked at him and he was smiling at me, that intense gaze making my stomach flutter again. There was a palpable heat in the air that permeated every pore of my body, straight down into my lady parts. I was guessing this heat couldn't be tamed by some stupid anti-depressants.

  "Wysdom with a 'y'. My mom thought it would bring me good fortune."

  "Pleased to meet you Wysdom with a Y. My name is..."

  I stopped him by putting a finger over his lips. "Nope. Don't tell me your name."

  An electric shock ran right through me as he grabbed my hand, and kissed the inside of my wrist, right on my pulse which was hammering a million miles an hour.

  Holy Hotness, Batman.

  "Why not?"

  Because I'm going to drink all of this Champagne and then make out with you in the bathroom. Or the parking lot. I thought.

  He looked at me and burst out laughing.

  "Crap on a cracker, did I say that out loud?" My face probably turned the same color as my hair.

  "So you decided to get drunk and make out with me," The God Among Men looked amused.

  "Umm yeah...."

  "Any particular reason why?"

  I'm grabbing life by the balls? "You're my birthday gift to myself.”

  ∞∞∞

  Champagne flowed along with the conversation as the God Among Men and I talked about just about everything, but the real shit in our lives.

  "If you don't know my name, what will you call me?" He teased after the second glass.

  Since I didn't think he would like God Among Men, I said: "I'm going to call you Bébé Guy."

  "Baby Guy?"

  "Bébé, with the French pronunciation."

  He frowned. "That still means baby in French."

  "Bébé Guy stands for Brown-eyed, blue-eyed guy."

  "Ah," he laughed. "You're as observant as you are beautiful."

  I shifted on my stool and changed the subject. "So, What's your favorite movie?"

  "It's a toss up between Die Hard and Princess Bride."

  "Hello! My name is Inigo Montoya, you killed my father, prepare to die," I said in my best Mandy Patinkin impression, which made Bébé Guy laugh. God, that sound was like foreplay.

  "How about you?" He asked.

  "Well, I'm partial to Fargo, Training Day and Hot Fuzz,."

  "All cop movies?"

  I shrugged. "I also love Steel Magnolias if I need a good cry."

  "What's a 'good' cry?"

  "You know, where you have some built-up angst and you want to cry about it, but the tears aren't coming. Like you're blocked or something. I can turn on Steel Magnolias and no matter where we are in the movie, there's going to be a good laugh and a good cry coming. You've got a six-pack of amazing women who are equally funny and kick ass in their own scenes: Dolly Parton, Julia Roberts, Olivia Dukakis, Daryl Hannah, the very hilarious Shirley MacLaine. And anyone who makes it out of that graveyard scene with Sall
y Field, without shedding a tear, is a freaking robot in my book."

  "I'll take your word for it," he laughed and looked down at my shoe. "What is that?"

  I followed his multi-colored gaze and nearly died from embarrassment right there. On the bottom of my shoe was a piece of lettuce, covered with barbecue sauce. How long had I been toting that shit around on my shoe like an errant piece of toilet paper from the ladies' room?

  "Ummm... looks like lettuce?" I shrugged and then scraped my shoe on the bar stool to get the offender off. Fucker wouldn't come of like it was on there with glue. I ended up taking a couple of bar napkins to pluck it off. Gross with a capital G. "I'll just head to the restroom and wash my hands. I have no idea where that came from!"

  Yes. I did know where it came from, but damn it! I was in the middle of potential Sexy Time here, and I didn't need to talk about dumpster diving.

  I made my trip to the ladies' room quick, and when I returned to the bar, I could see all of the women were openly staring at him with their mouths hanging open, lust written all over their faces. When I looked at him, he was frowning down at his phone. Completely oblivious to the panties that were dropping all around him. When I pulled out the stool to sit back down, he quickly put his phone away and turned to me with that piercing stare.

  "You were fast. That's good," he smiled at me. Only at me.

  Panty dropping indeed.

  We sipped our Champagne and nibbled on appetizers, looking at each other. It was a comfortable silence, which was rare for me. Usually, I tried to fill in the silence by babbling, but I didn't feel like I needed to with him, and I hardly knew him.

  I cleared my throat. "Favorite singer?"

  "Oh - Dolly. For sure," he answered.

  "Me too! She's a national treasure."

  "I'm also a big fan of her philanthropy. Do you know she's given out more than 152 million books with her Imagination Library?"

  "I didn't realize the number was so high, but I knew it was up there," I sipped my drink. "I've donated to the cause."

  He nodded approvingly. "Favorite book?"

  "Wow. Asking me to choose my favorite book is like asking me to pick my favorite child!" I clucked my tongue at him.

  "You have kids?"

  "Not that we're sharing real shit, but no. You?"

  "Not yet, but someday, maybe. I come from a large family."

  "Mine's medium-sized," I smiled.

  "I bet your parents are really proud of you."

  "I see what you're doing there," I lightly punched him in the shoulder. Sweet Oprah his shoulder was solid muscle. I was going to need to check that I didn't break my hand.

  "What am I doing?"

  Was he being coy with me? Must be a hot guy thing. "You're trying to get me to tell you about my real life, and I won't do it."

  "Why not?"

  I pointed at him. "Because that will break the spell surrounding my birthday fun, you being my birthday present and all."

  "Okay then. I'm not asking you to tell me what you do for a living, but I am going to ask you if you love it."

  I thought for a moment. Did I love it? I had never stopped to ask myself that question. It had always been a foregone conclusion that I would become a cop and follow in the family footsteps. That also meant I would become the first woman in the family to do so.

  My dad had been so proud of me when I announced that intention at the age of eight. I had wanted so desperately to make him happy after my mom died, I thought becoming a cop would do that. But then he married Denise and my two brothers came along. The burden no longer fell on my shoulders to continue the family tradition.

  "Earth to Wysdom," God Among Men nudged me.

  "What?"

  He stared into my eyes. "You were a million miles away."

  "Oh. I was just thinking about your question."

  He looked at me with those warm, different-colored eyes. "I didn't mean to cause a glitch in the Matrix, I just wondered if you loved what you did for a living. You don't have to answer if it's too hard."

  I shook my head and smiled at him. "It's okay. No one's ever asked me that before, so you threw me for a loop. I work in the family business and for a long time, I was the only kid. So if the family business would continue, it would have to be me that carried on the legacy. When my dad remarried, and had two more kids, it never dawned on me to rethink my career path. I just went along. It's something I'm good at, but there are political things that get in the way and I sometimes wonder if it's worth it, you know?"

  He nodded and a shadow fell across his face. It told me he did know what I was talking about.

  "There are days when I feel like I'm stuck. I've been doing this for twenty years, and in addition to no one else ever asking me that question - do I love what I do - I've never even asked myself," I shook my head. "Sounds pathetic, right?"

  "Not at all. It sounds like your heart was in the right place and you didn't want to disappoint your family. But isn't twenty years long enough to do what you think others expect?"

  I paused and looked at him. "Some days it feels like it."

  "I understand that feeling."

  "You have similar angst in your life?" I laughed. "I find that hard to believe. You seem to be pretty well put together. I mean you aren't walking around with lettuce stuck on the bottom of your shoes."

  He laughed. "True, but I've actually walked through worse things."

  "Worse things than lettuce? No. Say it ain't so," I clutched my chest in mock disbelief.

  The smile left his face as he reached toward me and grabbed my hand in both of his, rubbing his thumb slowly in circles on my right wrist. "Let's just say I trusted someone I shouldn't have and it changed the direction of my life. Not exactly for the worst, but if I could do it all over again, I'd do things differently."

  I nodded but didn't say anything. My arm felt like an old-fashioned thermometer. The more he caressed my wrist, the hotter I got... the mercury rising along my arm, to my shoulder and spreading out to the four corners of my body.

  "That feels so good, it's almost criminal," I tried to laugh but it came out more like a choking gasp.

  He leaned in and whispered in my ear: "There's nothing criminal about enjoying your birthday present."

  My eyes went wide as he kissed my neck, right behind my ear. I almost complained when he leaned back. Where was he taking those fabulous lips?

  Turns out, he was about to introduce them to my mouth. He leaned toward me, and lightly brushed his lips along mine and it felt like he had dragged a jalapeño across my mouth. I was on fire. A white-hot blazing inferno that ramped up as he pressed his mouth to mine, then ran his tongue along the seam, forcing my lips to open. He tasted like Champagne and chocolate and sin. Pure unadulterated sin.

  We playfully explored each other's tongues and mouths and he moved one of his hands around to the back of my neck and the other around to the small of my back. He maneuvered me so he could deepen the kiss to the point that I forgot where we were, what day it was, my name and my social security number.

  When the God Among Men finally pulled away, my eyes were half-closed. I felt like I had been drugged on his pheromones. I had never in my entire life been kissed like that. Kissed so thoroughly I forgot all about my surroundings. Time ceased to exist. Everything had come to a complete standstill as if nothing else existed in the universe but the two of us.

  I blinked a couple of times and the noise of the bar started filtering back into my awareness. He rubbed my back, ran his thumb along my jawline, then leaned in for a very quick, but still incredibly hot, peck on my mouth.

  He leaned back with a wicked grin on his face. "So, what will you do next?"

  I squinted my eyes and really looked at him. That generous mouth and soft eyes caused something to move inside of me and flare up from my core. This was no hot flash and I realized, he was way out of my league.

  "Next, I'm thinking we need more Champagne," I refilled his glass and pushed down the feeling that f
or the first time in my life, someone saw me. The real me. And it scared the ever-lovin' crap out of me.

  ∞∞∞

  Another bottle of Champagne later, we were the only ones left in the entire restaurant. I didn't wait until we were in the parking lot to make out again with the God Among Men. We were sitting so close, I was practically on his lap. His hands were all over me. My hands were all over him and eventually, I heard the bartender clear his throat. Loudly.

  "Okay, you don't have to go home, but you can't stay here," he said, grabbing the Champagne flutes and nearly empty bottle away from us.

  "Hey!" God Among Men slurred. "It's her birthday! I'm her present!"

  "That's wonderful," the bartender turned to me. "Now take your present and go home."

  "You didn't even say last call!" I smacked my hand down on the bar to emphasize my displeasure, but I didn't hit the bar. My hand landed on our dirty plates, sending silverware clattering to the floor.

  "I did, you didn't hear me with your tongue down his throat. Now, it's been swell, but it's time to go."

  "I got this... I'm a..." I started to say ‘police officer’ but God Among Men put his hand over my mouth.

  "Nope... no real shit, remember?"

  "Right. Right." I nodded and pulled up a ride share app. "Tell me your address."

  The God Among Men didn't live too far from there, and as soon as the driver pulled away from the restaurant, we were making out in the backseat, steaming up the back windows.

  Everything felt so good. I was feeling zero pain. His body was incredibly hard with thick muscles everywhere. His mouth lit me on fire to the point I could barely breathe.

  When we got to his house, he ran around and opened the car door for me.

  "Such a gentleman," I said, smacking him on the ass as I walked toward the front door. Grab life by the balls, or the ass. Or whatever is handy.

  In my drunken thought process, which I thought could rival that of Stephen Hawking, I had a whole seduction scene planned out. We would grab at each other's clothes and rip them off, without actually ripping or tearing anything or losing any buttons, just like they do in the movies. Then, wearing my perfectly matched underwear, which I wasn't presently wearing, I would beckon to him with one finger and lead him into the bedroom where we would swing from the chandeliers until dawn. Then we would wake up in post-coital bliss, without hangovers, my hair would be perfect and we'd do it all over again.