He gave me a full-blown French kiss. I didn’t complain one bit.
Belle coughed. “Ew. That might be a bit much on the first date.”
We laughed.
“Bo can get away with it.” I rubbed his ears. “Bo, yes. That’s your name little guy. You just look like a Bo.”
Belle kissed the top of his head. “I love that.”
Matt whispered in her ear.
“Oh, yes please. Thank you.”
“We’ve got a bunch of stuff for you in the car. We’ll get it out and put together for you since you’re one-legging it right now. In fact,” she starred at Dylan. “You might want to stick around for the night to help her take him out.” She winked at him.
I coughed. “Smooth move there, bestie.”
I filled Belle in on the lock boxes.
“So you’re saying there never was any money? That Boone Pickett made the whole thing up?”
“Based on the letter in the box, it would appear so.”
“You really think he wrote the letter?”
I nodded, and I showed her a file of letters from Myrtle’s house. “We picked these up on the way here. They were in the attic and are items that belonged to Boone. I’m not one hundred percent sure, but I can check other records, and I’m pretty sure I’ll find that it’s his handwriting. He must have thought the town would get a kick out of the joke.”
“Or he was just a mean-spirited old man.”
“Or that,” I agreed.
Bo showered my face with kisses again.
“Are you going to let the town know?”
“I’m emailing the county paper in a bit. With an image of the letter just in case.”
“Good idea.”
An hour later both Bo and I were sound asleep on the couch, my leg resting on Dylan’s lap, and Bo draped over my chest. My little bungalow never felt more like home. Bo snored in my ear and jolted me out of my slumber.
Dylan laughed. “That’s probably the sweetest picture I’ve seen since you drooled in your sleep in my dorm room my sophomore year at UGA.”
I wiped my mouth just in case. “I can’t believe you remember that.”
Bo stretched and fell off my chest onto the floor. It didn’t faze the little guy. He went on a sniffing mission across the room. I kept my eye on him just in case he needed to potty.
“I remember everything, Little Bean.” He moved my legs to the table in front of the couch so I could sit up. “And I’m hoping we can make more memories.”
He’d worn me down, and no matter how much I wanted to fight my feelings, I didn’t have the strength. Who was I kidding? I didn’t want to fight my feelings anymore. I wanted to melt into them, to drown in them. “I’d like that, too.”
He moved closer. “Really?”
I moved closer, too. “Really.” I leaned my head on his shoulder. “But I need to take it slow.”
He angled toward me, lifting my head in the process. “I can do that.” He tipped my chin forward and gently pressed his lips into mine.
I closed my eyes and let the kiss happen. It was quick and light, and fireworks exploded around us, though I wasn’t sure anyone felt or heard them but me.
“Wow. Some things never change,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“Your lips feel just like I remembered.”
I smiled. “So do yours.” I moved over and leaned my head back on his shoulder. “It’s kind of sad though.”
“What is?”
“Bo is a much better kisser than you.”
THE END
Keep Reading for more!
Read on for a Sneak Peek into
Decluttered and Dead
Book two of the
Lily Sprayberry Realtor Cozy Mystery Series
Decluttered and Dead
A Lily Sprayberry Realtor
Cozy mystery
CHAPTER 1
Secrets are never really secret, especially in a small town.
“Bo, heel.” I stood ramrod straight with the vibration controller in hand, ready to press the button on my Boxer mix puppy’s collar if he didn’t heel to my side. His crazy-legged gallop, the one where his big feet flopped all over the place from pure uncontrollable excitement, screeched to a halt, and he backed up, placing himself into the heeled position by my right side.
I beamed with pride. Bo was only four months old, but he’d already grown out of his puppy stage and into a clumsy forty-pound lump of drooling, rock-like muscle lap dog. The muscle that left a multi-colored bruise when it plowed into the side of my leg. I’d started the two of us in training, and so far, we’d done well. Actually, Bo did better than me. I was a softy, and I needed to toughen up so he didn’t get mixed signals. It wasn’t easy though, with those big puppy eyes staring at me as they did.
We stayed in heel position until we walked closer to the dog park entrance inside Castleberry Park. Bo’s tail wagged blissfully, and he stuck his little booty in the air with his front paws down, in what I called his puppy play mode, when he saw all of his friends rush to the fence to bark their hellos. “Bo, sit.”
He sat.
I completely understood how parents felt when their kids did something wonderful. Sure, Bo wasn’t a human kid, but he was my baby, and for me, the fact that he had four legs and a tail didn’t matter. His daily accomplishments were also mine, and they made me happy. I removed the leash and said okay, and he rushed off to the fence gate. Another dog owner opened it, greeted Bo with a cheerful hello and pat on the head, which he acknowledged with a tag wag, and then bolted off to play.
After thirty minutes of tumbling and rough-housing with the other dogs, I had to drag him out practically kicking and screaming like a toddler. We needed to practice our off-leash training on the park’s path before meeting the not-yet-labeled man in my life, Dylan Roberts.
Castleberry Park is the largest of three Bramblett County recreational parks. The county built it two years ago to accommodate the increased popularity of lacrosse, and teams from all over the state flock to tournaments there every season except winter because it’s the only one in northern Georgia with eleven turf lacrosse fields. With the pressure of local dog owners, the county added the dog park to an unused, lightly wooded area about nine months ago. The paved multi-use path was perfect for practicing off leash training with Bo. Though technically the law stated all dogs must be on a leash no longer than six feet, it was early enough that the morning walkers didn’t complain, and since the not-yet-defined man in my life just happened to be the county Sheriff, I flat out broke that law. I figured I’d get off with a warning at least the first time I got caught.
In my defense, I wasn’t the only one that did it, though my momma would tell me that’s no excuse and question if I’d jump off a bridge because everyone did it, but technically speaking, the electronic collar was a leash, and I had more control over Bo with the controller than I did with an actual physical strap, so I would argue that point in court any day if I had to.
We’d spent twenty minutes walking part of the two-mile path and had made it to the section connecting to the path toward Gibson Bridge. Nose to the ground, Bo followed a scent to the right and onto that path. The bridge was about a half mile up, and it was his favorite place on earth. An ideal spot for local photographers and artists, the old covered wood walking bridge didn’t go anywhere anymore unless one wanted to cross the rocky stream to fish or swim. Bo liked to watch the fish jump out of the water. The covered section leaned just a bit to the left, and years of teenagers carving their true loves names into the old wood was considered damage by some, but I thought of it as a touch of history and nostalgia. Yes, Dylan and I had our names carved into it, too, which was why I thought of the carvings as nostalgic rather than damaging. Our long-term high school and college relationship had been intense and hadn’t ended well, but he wanted to give it another try, and considering I was still in love with him, I couldn’t deny the chance. I just had to take it slow because I didn’
t trust that he wouldn’t up and leave me again.
“You feel like going that way, big guy?” I checked my watch. We still had a good fifteen minutes before we had to meet Dylan, so I figured why not?
I sent Dylan a quick text telling him we’d veered off toward the bridge and might be a few minutes late.
“The nose goes where the nose goes,” he replied.
Up ahead I caught a glimpse of my high school friend and college sorority sister, Heather Barrington, and a man I thought looked like William Abernathy. William’s family owned the biggest and most popular corn maze and pumpkin patch in the surrounding area. Another high school and college friend, Caroline Abernathy, married William shortly after college. As I walked Bo toward them, the man turned off the path and cut through the wooded section.
Heather and Caroline were best friends then, and best friends still, and both were signed up to be in my Decluttering and Staging Your Home for Sale class starting later that morning.
Bo greeted Heather with a nose bump to a somewhat private place. He had no shame, but it embarrassed me. “Bo, heel.”
He backed up and stood by my side.
“Sorry about that. We’re still learning our manners.”
She waved it off. “Oh, honey, he’s a dog. That’s how they say hey.” She bent down and patted Bo’s head. “I’m looking forward to class today. Should be a lot of fun. Will Belle be there?”
Belle Pyott, my best friend and business partner, also went to school with Heather and me.
“She’ll come by, but she’s not staying for the entire class.”
She blew out a breath and puffed her bottom lip out into a pout. “That’s too bad. Funny, we all live in the same town and rarely see each other.”
“Caroline Abernathy will be there, too, but you probably already knew that. Hey, was that her husband I just saw with you?”
She twirled a strand of her long red hair around her finger. “William? Oh, heavens, no. That was a client. He’s looking for a painting of the bridge. Wanted to see if I was interested in doing one for him.”
I nodded even though it sure looked like William to me.
We caught up as we walked toward the main path. “Well, I have to meet someone, but I’ll see you an hour or so,” I said.
She smiled. “Yes, I hear you’re back together with Dylan. You sure latched onto that tall drink of water right quick when he got back to town.”
And that’s when I remembered why we’d stopped hanging out. My momma once said there were two types of women, one type a man brings home to his momma, and the other type a man brings home, but not to the house his momma lived in. She also said girls went to college for one of two types of degrees, either a degree from the university itself or an M-R-S degree. She believed Heather Barrington went to college thinking she was the kind of girl boys brought home to meet their momma and wanted that M-R-S degree, but when she realized that wasn’t in the cards, she flipped sides. Based on Heather’s comment, I couldn’t help but agree with my mother.
I didn’t want her to make a play for Dylan, not that I thought he’d fall for it, but I also didn’t feel right saying something that wasn’t entirely true. “We’re testing the waters.”
“Well, that boy’s got a mighty fine physique to go swimming with. He’s all grown up now, that’s for sure.” She giggled, but it was more of an evil laugh than one filled with humor. “Keep an eye on that one. Someone might just sneak up behind you and steal him out from under you if you don’t.”
Gee, I wondered who would try that?
“Ta ta,” she said, heading in the other direction. She turned around a second or two later. “Oh, Lily, I’d be tickled pink if you’d put one of my paintings up in your office. I’m into reds right now. They really add a pop of color.” She wiggled her head and flicked her hair back. “I mean, look at my hair. Men just adore it, and you know what they say about us gingers. I bet one of my paintings would bring in all kinds of business.”
If I remembered correctly, the saying about gingers was something about them having no soul. I wondered if that’s the saying she meant? But bless her heart. She wanted to sell her work so bad she’d resorted to comparing it to her floosy ways. I had half a mind to tell her that sales technique wouldn’t work on women, but she might could give it a try on some of the older men in town. I would have bet good money on Old Man Goodson buying a self-portrait of her and hanging it right next to his pin up calendar in his shop.
I didn’t want one of her paintings, but I almost pitied her. Heather expected to marry rich and paint without worry of supporting herself. Instead, she still lived at home and worked at her parents store while trying to sell her paintings on the side. That had to be hard on the ego. “I’ll talk to Belle, see what we can do.” I smiled, knowing Belle thought a blind cow could paint better than our old friend. “See you in a bit.”
She waved and skipped off. “Ta ta, love.”
Bo and I met up with Dylan a few minutes later.
“Why the long face?” he asked.
“I just ran into Heather Barrington.”
“And?”
“I suggest you watch your back.”
He pressed his lips together. “Because?”
“Because she’ll probably leave claw marks in it if you don’t.”
He nodded slowly. “Noted.”
“Let’s just say I was quickly reminded of why we don’t really hang out anymore.”
He brushed the back of his hand across my face. “Did you tell her I only have eyes for you?”
“I didn’t think that would be appropriate.”
“Then I promise, if she tries to get her claws into me, I’ll make sure she knows.”
I had a feeling the sheriff’s office wouldn’t have any Heather Barrington original artwork hanging in it any time soon.
“So, you know that secret client I’ve been working with for the past two weeks?”
He nodded. “The one that’s taken you away from your favorite crime TV shows?”
“I have cable, you know. I can watch them on On Demand.”
“That’s too bad. You also have a real-life crime fighter right here.” He pointed to his chest, which, I had to admit, was quite sexy in the tight-fitting t-shirt stuck to him from the sweat of his run.
“You’re a small-town sheriff. The crime rate here is what, negative twenty?”
“It went up with the two murders you were involved in, remember?”
“I wasn’t actually involved in them.”
The corner of his mouth twitched, and I nearly melted right there. “So, go on.”
“Okay, so this client is an old friend.” I tapped the side of my leg, and Bo heeled to me. I wanted to do my happy dance, but per the trainer, I acted like it was no big deal. “And she’s back in town to help sell her parent’s house, so she’s decided to go ahead and take my decluttering class even though we’ve finished the job on her parents place already.”
“Who is it?”
“Someone that’s going to cause some a ton of conflict in the class.”
I could almost see his brain working. Dylan also grew up in Bramblett County, and he knew everyone I knew, so it took him less than a minute to figure it out. He laughed. “You’ve got to be kidding me? Savannah Emmerson?”
I nodded. “Belle set this up. I think she does this stuff to me on purpose.”
“I think she does. That’s hilarious.” He laughed again. “It’s going to be a train wreck. I can’t believe you’re going through with it.”
“What other option do I have?”
“You could tell her no.”
“That wouldn’t be very nice. Besides, she’s offered to use her parent’s house as an example for the class, and it looks great. Belle and I are even using it in our company portfolio. I can’t tell her she’s not welcome in the class now.”
Savannah, Caroline, Heather, Belle, and I all hung out in the same social circle in high school, and in college, the five of us j
oined the same sorority at the University of Georgia. Things were great for a short time, but Savannah ripped the group to shreds when she slept with Heather’s boyfriend, Austin Emmerson, our sophomore year at UGA. Rumor had it she also slept with Caroline’s, but that was never confirmed. Savannah eventually married Austin and moved to Atlanta. In the process of a divorce, she came back to Bramblett County under the guise of helping her parents get their house organized and sold while they headed north to their retirement home in Maine. That’s when she hired me and when Belle decided to sign her up for the decluttering class.
“Do you want me to send a deputy to make sure no fights break out?” The mouth twitch thing happened again.
“Don’t joke. I might seriously need that.”
We walked with Bo between us. “Makes sense now.”
“What?”
“I ran into Austin Emmerson last night at Willy’s.”
“Really? Did he say anything?”
“About what?”
“The divorce.”
“Sort of. He said something about a fight they’d had, how she’d screwed him out of a lot of money, but that’s about it. I figured he was just blowing off steam.”
“She hasn’t really said much to me. You know how rumors spread around here, she probably wants to keep it on the downlow.”
“Especially about her.”
We made it back to the parking lot where he’d parked his black, four-door sheriff’s car next to my car. “My poor car.”
“What? Your car is great,” he said.
“Next to your monstrosity it looks like one of those little Matchbox cars.” I rubbed the roof. “I feel bad for it.”
“I’m the sheriff. I need a big, manly car. Image is everything.”
I laughed. “If that’s true, then I’m a dainty little southern gal.”
He kissed my forehead. “And that’s what I love best about you.”
Deal Gone Dead Page 15