city!”
“It’s an area with a lot of good hard-working people—many of them trying very hard to make a silk purse out of sow’s ear.” They were toe to toe, Kate’s fists clenched. She wasn’t going to be the one who blinked.
“It’s Loserville.”
Kate took a deep breath. If she could keep her temper, maybe he wouldn’t completely lose his. She didn’t know him well enough to tell if he was the type to tear up the room. Herself along with it. “Lieutenant, some of us live alternative lifestyles. That often requires alternative living arrangements. Would we like something a bit bigger? Sure. But this is what we can afford. So shut up and sit down, okay?”
The entry door slammed back against the shed at the front of the carport. A hulking shadow loomed in the hallway. Kate gasped as Michael swung round, poised and ready, a very nasty-looking black gun gripped in both hands. “Michael, no!” she cried. “It’s okay, he’s a friend.” For a moment, Kate thought he hadn’t heard her; then the gun was gone, back to wherever it came from.
“You okay, Kate?” the hulk growled.
Michael’s heartbeat threatened to choke him. He’d nearly lost it. The last few days had gotten to him more than he’d thought. He was past exhaustion. Then again, the menace filling the entry hall was more than startling. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been intimidated by someone’s size, but there was a first for everything. The man’s head barely cleared the ceiling; his shoulders came close to brushing the narrow hallway on either side. His weight must be close to three hundred. None of it appeared to be flab.
“I’m fine, Bubba,” Kate assured the giant, “but thanks for checking.” She turned to Michael. “This is Clay Culpepper, known as Bubba. Bubba, this is Michael . . .” Kate broke off, Michael’s undercover name lost in the shock of the moment.
“Gibbs,” Michael supplied. The hand Bubba offered was the size of his mother’s Christmas ham, Michael thought as he accepted the hulk’s peace offering, wondering if he’d have a hand or nothing but crushed pulp left to show for it. But the giant’s grip was gentle, the face friendly to the point of ingenuous.
“Michael’s interested in LALOC, Bubba,” Kate explained. “He’s come to try on his costume.”
Bubba thought about it, nodded his pumpkin-sized head. “Uh – that’s okay then, Kate. Mona thought I ought to check. Said this guy looked awful mad about somethin.’”
“You tell Mona she was right,” Kate told the giant. “And you can check on me any time. I appreciate it. Having you next door, Bubba, always makes me feel safer.”
Bubba offered her an embarrassed grin. “Bye,” he muttered, then headed for the door. Kate walked him out, once again expressing her thanks.
When she returned, Michael was sitting in the lavender upholstered rocker. He raised one black shaggy eyebrow.
“Bubba and his girlfriend Mona are my next-door neighbors. Mona is Assistant Manager at Golden Beach Groves. Bubba . . . Bubba does odd jobs, helps out wherever an extra hand is needed. He’s–um–on permanent disability.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Why?”
Hell, yes, why would he want to hear another tragedy? And Michael was sure that’s what it was going to be. He shrugged. “Just tell me. If Bubba’s in LALOC, then I need to know.”
“Scotch or beer?”
“Huh?”
“You look like you could use a drink. Scotch or Guinness is all I’ve got.”
“Scotch. Sprinkle some water over the rocks.”
After Kate handed Michael his drink, she sat on the end of the sofa as far from his chair as she could get. She took a sip of her own scotch, felt the cool of it sliding down her throat. Keeping her gaze on the mound of ice in her glass, she said, “Bubba and Mona were high school sweethearts. They planned to get married as soon as they could afford it. Mona worked as a receptionist, took some night courses at the community
“It’s an area with a lot of good hard-working people—many of them trying very hard to make a silk purse out of sow’s ear.” They were toe to toe, Kate’s fists clenched. She wasn’t going to be the one who blinked.
“It’s Loserville.”
Kate took a deep breath. If she could keep her temper, maybe he wouldn’t completely lose his. She didn’t know him well enough to tell if he was the type to tear up the room. Herself along with it. “Lieutenant, some of us live alternative lifestyles. That often requires alternative living arrangements. Would we like something a bit bigger? Sure. But this is what we can afford. So shut up and sit down, okay?”
The entry door slammed back against the shed at the front of the carport. A hulking shadow loomed in the hallway. Kate gasped as Michael swung round, poised and ready, a very nasty-looking black gun gripped in both hands. “Michael, no!” she cried. “It’s okay, he’s a friend.” For a moment, Kate thought he hadn’t heard her; then the gun was gone, back to wherever it came from.
“You okay, Kate?” the hulk growled.
Michael’s heartbeat threatened to choke him. He’d nearly lost it. The last few days had gotten to him more than he’d thought. He was past exhaustion. Then again, the menace filling the entry hall was more than startling. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been intimidated by someone’s size, but there was a first for everything. The man’s head barely cleared the ceiling; his shoulders came close to brushing the narrow hallway on either side. His weight must be close to three hundred. None of it appeared to be flab.
“I’m fine, Bubba,” Kate assured the giant, “but thanks for checking.” She turned to Michael. “This is Clay Culpepper, known as Bubba. Bubba, this is Michael . . .” Kate broke off, Michael’s undercover name lost in the shock of the moment.
“Gibbs,” Michael supplied. The hand Bubba offered was the size of his mother’s Christmas ham, Michael thought as he accepted the hulk’s peace offering, wondering if he’d have a hand or nothing but crushed pulp left to show for it. But the giant’s grip was gentle, the face friendly to the point of ingenuous.
“Michael’s interested in LALOC, Bubba,” Kate explained. “He’s come to try on his costume.”
Bubba thought about it, nodded his pumpkin-sized head. “Uh – that’s okay then, Kate. Mona thought I ought to check. Said this guy looked awful mad about somethin.’”
“You tell Mona she was right,” Kate told the giant. “And you can check on me any time. I appreciate it. Having you next door, Bubba, always makes me feel safer.”
Bubba offered her an embarrassed grin. “Bye,” he muttered, then headed for the door. Kate walked him out, once again expressing her thanks.
When she returned, Michael was sitting in the lavender upholstered rocker. He raised one black shaggy eyebrow.
“Bubba and his girlfriend Mona are my next-door neighbors. Mona is Assistant Manager at Golden Beach Groves. Bubba . . . Bubba does odd jobs, helps out wherever an extra hand is needed. He’s–um–on permanent disability.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Why?”
Hell, yes, why would he want to hear another tragedy? And Michael was sure that’s what it was going to be. He shrugged. “Just tell me. If Bubba’s in LALOC, then I need to know.”
“Scotch or beer?”
“Huh?”
“You look like you could use a drink. Scotch or Guinness is all I’ve got.”
“Scotch. Sprinkle some water over the rocks.”
After Kate handed Michael his drink, she sat on the end of the sofa as far from his chair as she could get. She took a sip of her own scotch, felt the cool of it sliding down her throat. Keeping her gaze on the mound of ice in her glass, she said, “Bubba and Mona were high school sweethearts. They planned to get married as soon as they could afford it. Mona worked as a receptionist, took some night courses at the community
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