Off the Record (An Avery Shaw Mystery Book 10)

by Amanda M. Lee

  “Let’s check out the carnival,” I said. “I’m not ready to head back to see if we can reenact a scene from Cabin in the Woods. I need to rest first. When it comes time, you can be Chris Hemsworth and I’ll be Sigourney Weaver, by the way.”

  Eliot made a face as he linked his fingers with mine. “If you’re not careful, I’ll start monitoring your television time. You won’t like it if I ban certain movies.”

  “If you ban certain movies I’ll stop wearing the She-Hulk Underoos. Then you’ll cry like a little girl.”

  “Good point.” Eliot was in a good mood as we reached the carnival grounds. I wasn’t sure why. The carnival was small, kind of pathetic in its kitschy nature. It reminded me of the carnival that annually hit the small town where I grew up … and that was hardly a good thing. “Where do you want to start? I was thinking we could take a ride on the Ferris wheel.”

  I cocked an eyebrow. “Why?”

  “Because I’ve always wanted to make out with someone on the Ferris wheel,” Eliot replied, not missing a beat. “I pictured Carmen Electra when I was younger, but I guess you’ll do.”

  “Oh, you’re trying to hurt my feelings.” I pressed a hand to my chest above my heart as I mocked him. “If you’re picturing Carmen Electra, can I picture Ricky Whittle?”

  “Who is Ricky Whittle?”

  The hot dude from that American Gods show.”

  “The bald one who is constantly taking off his shirt? Do you want me to shave my head?”

  “You have a lumpy head,” I answered. “You wouldn’t look good bald. You’ve got that sexy, dirty biker dude thing going for you. You’re good as you are.”

  “Ah, well, good to know.”

  “That was a compliment.”

  “It totally sounded like one, too.”

  I grinned as I rested my head against his shoulder. “Did you really want to make out on a Ferris wheel when you were a kid?”

  Eliot bobbed his head. “I have no idea why, but yeah.”

  “Well, I’m willing, but I need my dinner to settle first. How about we hit the games for a bit and then discuss rides?”

  Eliot angled his head so he could study my face. “I can live with that.” He squeezed my hand as he led me through the busy midway, seemingly happy despite the loud screeches from children and teenagers. I’m not a big fan of kids – no matter the age – so I would’ve been happier with a kid-free carnival, but I’m fairly certain those don’t exist.

  “Here we are,” Eliot said after a few minutes. “It looks like they have about twenty games. That’s good. What do you want me to win for you?”

  I ran my tongue over my teeth as I tried to remind myself that he probably didn’t mean for the statement to be insulting. “Why do you need to win me something?”

  “Because that’s what boyfriends do.”

  “Well, what happens if I want to win you something?”

  Eliot’s lips curved. “You want to win me something?”

  I nodded. “I’m going to win you a stuffed animal to sleep with.”

  Eliot poked my stomach. “I sleep with you. I’m not looking for that to change.”

  “You always said you wanted a threesome.”

  “I never said that,” Eliot countered. “I can’t keep up with you. Why would I possibly want to add another woman?”

  “Because men are pigs.”

  “You just ate your weight in crab legs and you’re calling me a pig?”

  I ignored the insult. “Who said the third corner of our triangle would be a woman? I might want a man. I think I could handle two men.”

  Eliot narrowed his eyes. “If you tell me you want a slumber party with you, me and Jake I’ll bury you in the backyard. It won’t be at the new house, either. I wouldn’t sully the property in that manner. It will be at the old house.”

  “Oh, puh-leez,” I scoffed. Jake Farrell, my former high school boyfriend, is Macomb County’s sheriff. He and Eliot have a tortured past of their own, but they’d managed to put it behind them. The three of us are now friendly. “I wouldn’t want the third person to be Jake. I’ve seen the way you two look at each other. I’d be the one left out in the cold in that scenario. Nobody wants that.”

  Eliot wagged a warning finger in my face. “Keep it up, Trouble. You’ll be sleeping alone if you’re not careful.”

  “Because you’ll be sleeping with Jake?”

  “Because you’ll be sleeping in the doghouse.”

  “We’re not getting a dog.”

  “That doesn’t mean I won’t get a doghouse just for you.”

  I couldn’t hide my smile as I turned my attention back to the game. “I still want to win you a stuffed animal. I think that octopus up in the corner there is quite charming. It reminds me of you.”

  “How?”

  “Because sometimes I think you have eight arms.”

  “You’re a funny girl.” Eliot heaved a sigh. “Fine. If you want to win me a stuffed animal, that’s certainly your prerogative. I’m still going to cuddle with you at night.”

  “You can win me a stuffed animal, too,” I offered. “Then we’ll cuddle and the stuffed animals can cuddle. That way no one will be lonely.”

  Eliot snorted, genuinely amused. “You’re a lot of work. Has anyone ever told you that?”

  “Pretty much everyone I’ve ever met. You’ve told me that a good eight times this week alone.”

  “That’s because it’s true.” Eliot rolled his neck and shook his head. “Just out of curiosity, why do you want to win me a stuffed animal?”

  I held my hand palms up. “Because I like to play the games. When I was in high school, all of the girls wanted the boys to win them something. That didn’t happen with me.”

  “Jake never won you a stuffed animal?”

  “Oh, he did, but the animal wasn’t important to me,” I answered. “It was a bear, if you’re curious. I wanted to play the games with him, beside him. Watching him win something for me didn’t have the same appeal.”

  Eliot’s expression was thoughtful as he rubbed his chin. “That actually seems to fit your personality fairly well,” he finally said. “You never wanted to be one of the girls, did you? You were far more interested in being one of the guys. That’s why you always insist on being Han Solo when we play Star Wars late at night.”

  “You make a fabulous Leia.”

  Eliot scowled. “I told you to stop bringing that up. I did it twice, but I’m not doing it a third time.”

  I had every confidence I could con him into doing it a third time, but admitting that now seemed counterproductive. “So, are we agreed? I’ll win you a stuffed animal and you’ll win me one?”

  “And then they’ll live together in the back of our closet?”

  I nodded. “Or they can sit on top of our bed. You never know. We might become attached to them.”

  “I have my doubts, but who am I to argue with Han Solo?”

  I grinned. “That sounds like a plan.”

  “Yes, it sounds like my childhood dreams coming to fruition,” Eliot deadpanned, shaking his head. “What stuffed animal do you want?”

  I tapped my bottom lip as I regarded the choices. “I want that shark.” I pointed. “It looks like an apex predator, like me. Plus, it will match well with your octopus.”

  Eliot merely rolled his eyes. “You’ve got it.” He dug in his wallet for money and arched a challenging eyebrow as I extended my hand. “What’s that for?”

  “I want money,” I replied. “If I’m going to win that octopus for you I need to play the game. You have to pay to play.”

  “Oh, no.” Eliot shook his head. “I’m not paying for you to win a stuffed animal for me. This is your thing. I’m paying to win a stuffed animal for you. If you want to win something for me, you need to pay.”

  “I paid for this entire trip,” I reminded him.

  “I paid for dinner.”

  “I … .” He had a point. Crap. I hate it when that happens. “Fine.” I exhale
d heavily enough to ruffle my bangs and dug in the small cross-body bag I carried. It had a Munsters design. “You’re going to cherish this stuffed animal once I win it. You know that, right?”

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  I left Eliot to head toward his game – which had something to do with tossing basketballs in too-small baskets. I knew the game was rigged and steered clear of it as I headed toward the booth next door. I knew a little something about throwing darts at balloons … and by that I mean I saw a television show that gave specific instructions on how to beat the game. No, that’s not cheating. It’s playing better odds, which is totally allowed.

  “I want to win that octopus,” I informed the guy behind the counter. He was fairly attractive for a carnie, long dark hair and smoldering brown eyes. He flashed a smile and I was relieved to see that he didn’t have some ridiculous grill in there to ruin the illusion. He was seriously hot enough to have me considering smiling, which should not be confused with flirting. Okay, it was kind of like flirting. “How many darts will I need?”

  “You need to hit seven out of ten,” the man replied. “It’s not easy.”

  I pursed my lips as I regarded him. “Life is never easy. I’ll do it.”

  “Son of a … .” Eliot’s face flushed with color as he dug in his wallet for more money. The guy running his booth bore a strange resemblance to a Rob Zombie movie character, but I wisely kept that to myself.

  “Not going well, Flash?” I challenged. It probably wasn’t right to taunt him, but since he refused to fund my games I couldn’t help but enjoy the perverse thrill I got watching him melt down.

  “Pay attention to your own game,” Eliot ordered. “I have this under control. You want the shark, I’ll get you the shark.”

  “Okay.” I handed the guy behind my counter five bucks and smiled as he handed me the darts, which I quickly studied. I returned five of them and demanded darts with different tips.

  “I … don’t believe that’s allowed,” the guy said, wary.

  He may be hot, but my need to win is greater than my urge to flirt with a hot guy – by a long shot. “Well, if it’s not allowed, that means you have something to hide,” I challenged. “I would hate to report that to local law enforcement. I’m sure they wouldn’t like fraud at a family carnival. I’m not big on being a tattletale, but the public’s safety comes first.”

  The guy narrowed his eyes to brown slits. “You listen here … .”

  “You give me five other darts or I’m going to cause a scene,” I shot back, lowering my voice. “You don’t want that.”

  “Are you threatening me?”

  I shook my head. “Merely leveling the playing field.”

  The man glowered at me, but did as instructed. After I studied the new darts and convinced myself that they were up to snuff I aimed the first one at the board.

  “When I win, I want that octopus in the corner.”

  The man sneered. “You’re not the first one to want that octopus. No one has ever won him.”

  “I’m not a normal person.”

  “Yes, she’s She-Hulk,” Eliot muttered, scowling as he dug into his wallet for more bills. “I blame you for this. I hope you know that.”

  “I’m well aware.” I smiled, one of those deranged grins that make people think I’m about to descend on Whoville and steal Christmas. “Move out of the way, Skippy. I need room to move.”

  “Knock yourself out,” the handsome game worker said, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the booth wall. “I can’t wait to see this.”

  That made two of us.

  3

  Three

  “Do you want me to win my own stuffed animal?”

  I held the octopus with both arms, resting it against my midriff as I watched Eliot swear and scuff his foot against the packed dirt on the other side of the game booth. It had become something of a passion project for him – and he was down at least a hundred and fifty bucks from what I could tell. The fact that I’d won his stuffed animal in less than five minutes didn’t sit well.

  It made me laugh – internally, of course – so I was having a good time. That’s all that really mattered to me.

  “Watch it,” Eliot ordered, extending a finger in my direction. “I said I was going to win you the stuffed animal. I meant it.”

  “Yes, but you’re going broke trying. Maybe you should pick a different game. They have the same shark over here at the darts game.”

  Eliot scowled. “Did I ask for your opinion?” He’s generally the calm one in our relationship – for the most part – and seeing him unhinged was amusing.

  “You don’t have to win me the shark. You bought me crab legs – which are digesting nicely now – and I think we can go on the Ferris wheel and fulfill that teenage dream of yours. Forget the game.”

  Eliot pursed his lips. “Are you insinuating that I can’t win that shark?”

  “I’m saying that you picked the wrong game to win that shark,” I clarified. “Those rims are purposely angled so it’s practically impossible to toss that basketball into them. The rims are big enough, but you have to arc up and have the ball drop in perfectly from above. It’s very difficult.”

  “How can you possibly know that?”

  “I saw it on a Dateline episode.”

  “And now you’re an expert?”

  “I’m a quick learner. It’s the same reason I’m the better Jedi Knight. You have no problem with that when we mock lightsaber battle.”

  Even though he was clearly annoyed, Eliot couldn’t tamp down his smirk. “I want to win you a stuffed animal.”

  “Are you sure that’s it? I’m starting to think it’s because you don’t want to lose.” Off the record, and it was difficult to admit – even to myself – but something about that realization totally turned me on.

  “Maybe it’s both.”

  “Well, I can respect that.” I led Eliot toward the dart booth. “This is the easiest one to beat. You need to lob the darts up and let them get some momentum before arcing down to break the balloons. Don’t throw the darts directly at the balloons … and let me look at the darts to make sure they don’t have faulty tips. That’s another trick they use.”

  The guy running the dart booth scowled. “Don’t tell people that.”

  “Am I wrong?”

  “I … .” The hot carnie worked his jaw back and forth as he glared at me. We were starting to draw a crowd – which I often do – and I had a feeling that was the last thing he wanted.

  “Here!” The guy grabbed a plush shark from the top shelf and shoved it in my direction. “Just take it and go.”

  “We didn’t win it,” I argued, although I didn’t put much effort into the protest. There are different ways to win a battle. “We can’t take it if we didn’t win it. That’s not fair.”

  “Oh, you won it,” the guy spat. “Take it. I can’t listen to your voice one more second. You’re … unbelievable.”

  I angled my head as I considered the best way to handle things. “Okay, we’ll take it, but only because I want you to learn a valuable lesson.” I handed Eliot his octopus and grabbed the shark. “Thank you for making this such a pleasant evening.”

  “Yes.” The game barker bobbed his head as he glared fiery dagger bolts in my direction. If he were a Jedi knight he’d be shooting lightning from his fingers to torture me. I was sure of that. “We’ve all had a pleasant evening, haven’t we?”

  “I know I have.” I stroked the shark and smiled. “You hate me, don’t you?”

  “Just go.”

  I slipped my hand in Eliot’s. When I risked a glance in his direction I found him staring at me with an unreadable expression. “What?”

  “If you were a superhero, your power would be annoying people.”

  “Am I annoying you?”

  Eliot shook his head. “I’m oddly turned on.”

  Strangely enough, I felt the same way … even though I didn’t want to admit it
. “You’re a sick man.”

  “I am.” Eliot slipped his hand behind my neck and tugged me closer so he could kiss me. “I’m sorry I didn’t win you the shark.”

  “That’s okay. I’ll appreciate it more because I made the game dude concede defeat. That gives me power. You already have power.”

  Elliot didn’t look convinced. “How do I have power?”

  “I’ve seen you without a shirt.”

  Eliot snorted. “I feel emasculated. I should’ve been able to win that stupid thing for you.”

  “You bought me crab legs. That’s much more important in my book.”

  “Than winning? You know I’ve met you, right? Nothing is more important to you than winning.”

  He had a point, yet … . “I didn’t do this to make you feel bad about yourself. I did it because I like to win. You’re the manliest man I know, for the record.”

  Eliot’s expression softened as he ran his hands up and down my arms. “You don’t have to lay it on so thick.”

  “If you want to prove you’re really manly I saw that they’ve come out with some He-Man Underoos. Now, I know you’re not big on wearing pajamas – and I’m generally a fan of sleeping in our natural states – but I think we can play a lot of fun sword games if you’re willing to compromise.”

  “Does that mean I have the power?”

  I shrugged. “Don’t you always have the power?”

  “I’m pretty sure you have the power.” Eliot planted a soft kiss on my mouth before pulling back. “So … Ferris wheel?”

  “Yes! I’m ready to make out as if it’s 2007 and you’re wearing a letterman’s jacket.”

  “That sounds strangely alluring.” Eliot slipped his arm around my waist and kissed my temple. “I never wore a letterman’s jacket, though. I wasn’t much of a joiner.”

  “Me either.”

  “And here I was having cheerleading fantasies about you.”