An Ex to Grind in Deadwood (Deadwood Humorous Mystery Book 5) Paperback – September 4, 2014 (11 page)

“I thought you were makin’ small talk about the weather.”

“When have I ever made small talk with you?”

“When we first met.”

“No, I made small talk with Bessie, your shotgun, until you removed her double barrels from my kisser.”

“What’ll you have, hun?” the waitress interrupted our tennis match.

When we finished ordering, Doc let go of my hand and lowered his palm onto my thigh. His body heat zapped through my dress like it was made of copper. “Tell me about what happened at Cooper’s,” he said, squeezing my leg as encouragement.

For the next ten minutes, I took turns with Harvey catching Doc up on our morning fun. We bounced from the speculation about Cooper’s meeting this afternoon to what we had seen in each picture and why he had shown them to us. Neither of us believed he happened to have a few photos of the crime scene on him and felt like sharing them over tea and biscuits.

Emptying his drink, Harvey excused himself to go see a man about a mule. Finally I sat alone with Doc.

“Are you okay, Violet?”

“Mostly.”

He rubbed my leg reassuringly. “There’s probably some easy explanation for Ms. Wolff having Layne’s picture.”

I puffed my cheeks and blew out a sigh, trying to smile around my anxieties. “I hope you’re right.”

He removed his hand from my thigh, reaching out to snag one of the longer curls twirling down from my temple. “You wore your hair loose.”

“Harvey always tells me that men like women better with their hair down.” The same thing had been said by Doc’s ex-girlfriend, Tiffany, the Jessica Rabbit look-alike who happened to be the inspiration for my boss’s billboard marketing madness. Her sexy ads for a competing real estate company in Spearfish had increased their walk-in traffic by thirty percent according to Jerry’s insider information.

“So,” Doc wound the curl around his finger, “you’re letting Harvey advise you on what to wear now?”

“Only when it comes to dressing to impress.”

One of his dark eyebrows inched up. “Were you out to impress Detective Cooper this morning?”

“I have two recurring goals when in Cooper’s company—to refrain from poking him in the eye with a sharp stick and to stay out of jail.” I shrugged out of my blazer, partly to cool down the furnace growing inside of me thanks to Doc’s nearness, partly with the hope of heating Doc up. “I had someone else in mind while showering this morning.”

“Oh, yeah?” His gaze lowered, eyes darkening as he openly admired the flower garden stretching across my chest. “Nice dress. Pretty daisies.”

“This old thing? I found it in the back of my closet. I’m surprised it still fits after all of these years.” The top gaped more than it used to thanks to gravity sucking some of the air out of my balloons, but push-up bras worked miracles these days.

“I wonder what it looks like when you cross your legs in it.” His hand returned to my thigh, his fingers pulling up the hem until he found bare skin. “Who was on your mind while you were getting all warm and wet?”

The fire I’d been playing with burned in all sorts of interesting places. “Some guy I know.”

“Some guy, huh?” His gaze dipped to my neckline and lower. “You’re wearing a red bra.”

I pulled open the front and peeked down, as if I hadn’t spent too many minutes this morning with him in mind, debating on which bra and underwear to choose. “I guess I am. Are you always so observant?”

Under the table, his hand slid up my thigh. “Matching panties, I’m guessing.”

“What panties?” I lied.

I was too chicken to go commando. I even had added a short satin slip. I’d had bad luck with wrap dresses in the past on windy days. The last thing I needed was a wardrobe malfunction in front of Cooper or my boss. Jerry would want to record it and use it for an online marketing ad.

Doc’s fingers stilled. “You wouldn’t happen to have any free time this afternoon would you?”

“What for?”

“I could use your help.”

“With what?”

“Reminding you who you should be thinking about while you’re in the shower.”

I chuckled. Noticing Harvey weaving his way between the tables, I leaned closer and whispered, “I’d rather go to your place and have a hands-on demonstration with that new soap you bought. What flavor is it?”

Doc sucked a breath in through his teeth. “Peach.”

“Where in the hell’s our food?” Harvey asked, then looked at me, his eyes drifting down to my neckline. He grinned at Doc. “What do you think about that daisy dress of hers?”

Rubbing the fabric on my sleeve between his finger and thumb, he smiled at me, sort of wicked and sexy at the same time. I should practice that in the mirror to see if it had the same heart-sputtering effect on him.

“It’s pretty and soft,” Doc said, his fingers drifting down the skin on my arm. “But I’m more partial to violets.”

Harvey snickered. “Partial to Violet’s what?”

“Order up,” I heard come through the window leading to the kitchen. Thank God.

“Here comes our food,” I said, changing the subject.

The waitress brought our lunch over, distracting Harvey with a bacon cheeseburger and a wag of her hips.

We spent the next fifteen minutes speculating about Ms. Wolff, Layne, and Cooper. The ten minutes after that were filled with Harvey picking Doc’s brain on some investment opportunities. I took that opportunity to zone out and aimlessly chew on cold French fries, battling a handful of ‘why me’s’ when it came to ghosts, albinos, and retired professional basketball players.

As the waitress collected our plates in exchange for the bill, my cell phone rang. It was Mona.

“Hello?” I said into my phone, nodding at the waitress who wanted to take my plate of half-eaten French fry corpses.

“Violet, where are you?” Mona asked.

“Bighorn Billy’s eating lunch. Why?”

“There’s a gentleman here looking for you. He says he saw your billboard and is interested in talking to you.”

“Great.” I grimaced, imagining what kind of client that billboard would lure. “Is he legit you think?”

“Ah, sure.”

“Is he standing in front of you right now?”

“Yes.”

“Is Ray trying to steal him already?”

“Yes.”

“That asshole! Stall for me. I’ll be there in two shakes.”

Doc left money on the table to cover the bill and then some.

“I owe you,” I said as he helped me out of the booth and handed me my blazer.

“You can find a creative way to repay me, Boots.” His eyes twinkled with a mixture of mirth and lust.

Outside the diner, Doc offered to take Harvey back to Aunt Zoe’s where we’d left his pickup this morning. Then he walked me over to the Picklemobile.

“I was serious about coming over this afternoon.” His eyes admired me from head to toe, then he buttoned up my blazer. “I would like a chance to unwrap that dress and see for myself what’s underneath.”

“What’s in it for me?” I flirted, looking up at him from under my lashes.

He caught my hands and pulled me closer. “More of this.”

He tipped my chin and covered my lips with his, coaxing a moan from me. I pressed into his heat, needing his warmth, his touch, and whatever else he was willing to give to me. When he finished lighting wildfires, he stepped back, his gaze as molten as my insides. “You interested?”

Hell, yes!
I licked my lips, trying not to let it be obvious how twisted up and over the moon he had me. “Let me see what this client wants and then I’ll be over.”

A horn honked.

I stepped back from Doc and glared over at Harvey, who sat waiting in Doc’s Camaro. The old codger needed to give us a moment. It’s the least he could do after so many nights of sitting at the other end of the couch, keeping me from jumping Doc’s bones after the kids went to bed.

Harvey pointed out the driver’s side window.

I followed his finger. Standing in front of Bighorn Billy’s front doors watching Doc and me with her jaw unhinged, her cheeks bright red, and flames shooting from her eyes, stood Tiffany Sugarbell.

Doc’s ex-girlfriend.

My competitor in real estate marketing ads.

The selling agent for the hotel I was helping Cornelius buy.

The woman Doc once told me was obsessed with winning, competitive on every playing field, including the bedroom.

“Oh, shit,” I whispered, stepping back into Doc, who wrapped his arm around me.

“What’s wrong?”

“We have a problem.”

Judging from the snarl now scrunching Tiffany’s face into what looked like an ancient Maya mask, she did, too—with me locking lips with her ex-boyfriend.

Chapter Six

There were five different ways that Tiffany Sugarbell could turn my world into a living hell, and probably several more that I hadn’t thought of yet.

One, she could try to seduce Doc back between her sheets. The green jealousy monster and I made ugly bedfellows, especially when we spooned.

Two, she could partner with Ray, forming some evil alliance with the aim of ruling over my universe and screwing me out of sales and a job.

Three, she could sleep with Cooper and whisper sweet nothings in his ear all night about how I was guilty of every single thing he had suspected all along. I could see them locking me in jail and then dancing a jig together before Cooper ground the key between his molars and swallowed the metal shards.

Four, she might woo Cornelius … somehow. If that were even possible. Crazy Caly had managed it without trying, but I strongly suspected she wasn’t normal, and that had played a role in his attraction to her. Maybe Tiffany could wrap herself in a boa of raven feathers and convince him to back out of the hotel sale before the paperwork was finalized.

Five, she could blab to everyone in the hills that I wore a pushup bra.
Droopy Boobs Parker
would be my new nickname. Oh, the fun Cooper’s crew would have with me every time they dragged me into the station.

During the drive back to Calamity Jane Realty, I tried to come up with a plan on how to handle each possibility. All the while, I kept an eye out for her Jeep in my rearview mirror. I half expected her to chase after me and try to run me off the road for kissing her ex-boyfriend.

Doc might believe I was overreacting about how bad this could turn, but Doc’s XY chromosome mix made it hard for him to understand how a pair of X chromosomes plotted and schemed. His reminder back at Bighorn Billy’s that Tiffany had moved on and was fully involved with a new man had inspired my scornful laugh in return.

I still vividly remembered the day Tiffany had slapped him across the cheek for walking out on her, leaving her high and dry without an explanation. Only later had I found out it had to do with her mentioning the idea of marriage to him.

Tiffany’s rage that day had surfaced with a
ka-boom
at the mere sight of Doc, her usual professional veneer buried under smoking debris. I could have sworn in that heated moment her eyes had flashed fire and her red hair had flamed at the tips. But my memory could be partly skewed due to my envy for her perky breasts and incredible sales numbers.

Either way, one thing was clear today from the pinched expression on Tiffany’s face—she didn’t like to share with others. Contrary to what Doc might believe about his ex, I had a target on my back now. I sure hoped her aim was as rotten as mine.

I parked the Picklemobile behind Calamity Jane Realty, checking my reflection in the rearview mirror. My lips needed fixing thanks to lunch and Doc; my hair needed corralling so I didn’t scare away my potential new client. After powdering my nose back into a matte finish, I was ready to impress.

Whiffs of Mona’s jasmine perfume drifted down the office’s back hallway. As I passed the bathroom, a heavy dose of green apple air freshener made me grimace—Ray! I was going to superglue his ass to the toilet seat if he didn’t stop trying to steal my clients. That would keep him out of the way when new customers came calling.

I pasted on a smile, all set to meet and greet, and stepped out into the front office.

“Too late,” Ray called out. His sneer made me want to reach for a sledgehammer.

“Where did he go?” I asked Mona.

“He got tired of waiting for you to finish getting all girly’d up for him,” Ray answered.

“I didn’t yank your chain,” I said without looking at the horse’s ass.

Mona smiled at me, warm and reassuring. If Jerry was truly the brilliant marketer he thought he was, he’d figure out how to clone Mona. “He got a phone call and had to leave.”

“Dang.” I dropped my purse on my desk.

“But he made an appointment to come back tomorrow morning at nine. I wrote it on your desk calendar. You don’t have anything going on then, do you?”

Only a walk-through of a dead woman’s apartment with Detective Cooper. But meeting my potential client rated higher on my priority list than hanging out with the detective. Coop would have to wait until I was finished playing Realtor. I needed to keep my job as much as he did. “I’ll be here by eight-thirty.”

“That’ll be a first,” Ray said.

I didn’t bite on his hook. “Where’s Ben?” I asked Mona, heading for the coffee pot.

“Jerry took him to meet an old friend he used to play ball with.”

Great. Now Ben would have yet another thing in common with our boss besides a set of testicles. I poured a cup of black coffee, debating on sugar or not. Black might be better, adding a sprinkling of hair on my chest so I could compete with Ben on the be-like-Jerry game. Nah. Sugar won.

The rest of the day passed slowly, especially after Doc called and told me he had to run down to Rapid City to help one of his clients and wouldn’t be home until tomorrow. I phoned Cooper and left him a message about pushing our meeting back an hour. Then I watched the clock tick one minute at a time, feeling like a mosquito trapped in sap, wanting to go home and hug my son since Cooper wouldn’t let me badger the kid with questions. Finally it was time to call it a day.

I spent the evening following Layne around like a puppy. When Aunt Zoe asked me if I were feeling okay, I joked that I was having early separation anxiety.

Doc called my cell phone long after I’d left the kids’ bedroom and crawled under my sheets.