tighter.
A jumble of conflicting emotions squeezed my heart as I looked up at Grey. “Thanks for getting her. I bet she was happy to see you.”
Ever the gentleman, he pulled out my chair, then bent down and kissed my cheek. “Missy planted a few slobbery kisses to prove it.”
I grabbed his face and planted a big fat kiss of my own on his lips. “Just the kind you like. You’re the best.”
“Only because I like your dog.”
There was thirty pounds of truth in his off-handed remark. Missy jumped up on my leg, her pink tongue lapping the air. She was crazy, but she was my crazy dog.
“Sit down, Mel. Missy has no idea what’s going on. The food will be ready any time.”
“What?”
Grey regarded me with his intense green eyes. “She’s picking up your stress.”
Overwhelmed with exhaustion, I plopped onto the chair. Missy waddled back to Grey’s side of the table and returned to her resting place. She stared at me, panting as if she’d just run a marathon. Grey was right. For Missy, the day was just like any other.
Alanis Morissette’s version of “Crazy” sang out around us.
“You have a new ring tone.” Grey took a drink of his bottled water.
I shook my head. “That’s not mine.”
“It’s coming from your purse.”
I reached into my tote, found my cell and held it up. “Not me.”
My purse continued to sing . . . “ We’re never gonna survive . . . ”
What the heck?
I rummaged around and found a second phone. I didn’t recognize it at first, but I was familiar with the name on the screen. Tricia.
“Holy crapola.” I had Mona’s phone. I looked across the table at Grey, and I saw the question ready on his lips.
Without thinking about the consequences, I answered. “Hello? Hello…?”
Silence answered on the other end.
“Did they hang up?” Grey asked.
I nodded. “I guess so.” I stared at the phone. How did I get Mona’s cell? Then I remembered calling her shortly after arriving at her house.
Well heck, I could have called Armando at anytime. I thumbed through the contacts and found his unlisted number. I pulled out a receipt from my purse and jotted down his information.
“Whose phone?” Grey asked calmly.
My head snapped up like a guilty criminal. I opened my mouth to answer, when Uncle Sal (he wasn’t really our uncle; that’s what everyone called him) yelled out our number.
“Food’s ready,” I said.
Grey slowly pushed his chair back; his rugged face looked tired and slightly worried. Missy lumbered to the other side of the table and under my chair.
I’m not sure why he was concerned. I didn’t steal the phone—I just accidently palmed it from Mona’s house. I’d give it back. But I wanted to snoop first. Didn’t everyone want to know who Mona had on speed dial?
I scrolled through Mona’s contact list, seeing the names and numbers of people I expected: Teri Essman (the mayor), Tricia Edwards, Armando.
“Holy cow,” I whispered. Darby Beckett’s number was programmed as “ICE,” In Case of Emergency. What was going on?
I looked around and saw Grey grabbing our food. I waved and blew him a kiss as my mind ran wild with questions. I leaned back, just out of his direct line of vision, then quickly did a little more snooping.
According to the phone history, Mona’s last outgoing call was to Jo at 4:00 pm, and the last incoming call before mine was from Darby at 4:45 pm. That was when I had called Mona.
I looked up and saw Grey with our food. I fumbled with the phone as I turned it off and dropped it into my bag. My heart raced. He’d ask about the phone again.
I tapped my purse nervously. Grey wasn’t a bend-the-rules-kinda-guy when it came to the law. He’d want me to turn the phone over to the police. Tonight. I didn’t want to disappoint him, but Darby was my best friend, and I had her back.
I had to talk to Darby first. Once the police had Mona’s cell, who knew what they’d think? Heck, I didn’t know what to
A jumble of conflicting emotions squeezed my heart as I looked up at Grey. “Thanks for getting her. I bet she was happy to see you.”
Ever the gentleman, he pulled out my chair, then bent down and kissed my cheek. “Missy planted a few slobbery kisses to prove it.”
I grabbed his face and planted a big fat kiss of my own on his lips. “Just the kind you like. You’re the best.”
“Only because I like your dog.”
There was thirty pounds of truth in his off-handed remark. Missy jumped up on my leg, her pink tongue lapping the air. She was crazy, but she was my crazy dog.
“Sit down, Mel. Missy has no idea what’s going on. The food will be ready any time.”
“What?”
Grey regarded me with his intense green eyes. “She’s picking up your stress.”
Overwhelmed with exhaustion, I plopped onto the chair. Missy waddled back to Grey’s side of the table and returned to her resting place. She stared at me, panting as if she’d just run a marathon. Grey was right. For Missy, the day was just like any other.
Alanis Morissette’s version of “Crazy” sang out around us.
“You have a new ring tone.” Grey took a drink of his bottled water.
I shook my head. “That’s not mine.”
“It’s coming from your purse.”
I reached into my tote, found my cell and held it up. “Not me.”
My purse continued to sing . . . “ We’re never gonna survive . . . ”
What the heck?
I rummaged around and found a second phone. I didn’t recognize it at first, but I was familiar with the name on the screen. Tricia.
“Holy crapola.” I had Mona’s phone. I looked across the table at Grey, and I saw the question ready on his lips.
Without thinking about the consequences, I answered. “Hello? Hello…?”
Silence answered on the other end.
“Did they hang up?” Grey asked.
I nodded. “I guess so.” I stared at the phone. How did I get Mona’s cell? Then I remembered calling her shortly after arriving at her house.
Well heck, I could have called Armando at anytime. I thumbed through the contacts and found his unlisted number. I pulled out a receipt from my purse and jotted down his information.
“Whose phone?” Grey asked calmly.
My head snapped up like a guilty criminal. I opened my mouth to answer, when Uncle Sal (he wasn’t really our uncle; that’s what everyone called him) yelled out our number.
“Food’s ready,” I said.
Grey slowly pushed his chair back; his rugged face looked tired and slightly worried. Missy lumbered to the other side of the table and under my chair.
I’m not sure why he was concerned. I didn’t steal the phone—I just accidently palmed it from Mona’s house. I’d give it back. But I wanted to snoop first. Didn’t everyone want to know who Mona had on speed dial?
I scrolled through Mona’s contact list, seeing the names and numbers of people I expected: Teri Essman (the mayor), Tricia Edwards, Armando.
“Holy cow,” I whispered. Darby Beckett’s number was programmed as “ICE,” In Case of Emergency. What was going on?
I looked around and saw Grey grabbing our food. I waved and blew him a kiss as my mind ran wild with questions. I leaned back, just out of his direct line of vision, then quickly did a little more snooping.
According to the phone history, Mona’s last outgoing call was to Jo at 4:00 pm, and the last incoming call before mine was from Darby at 4:45 pm. That was when I had called Mona.
I looked up and saw Grey with our food. I fumbled with the phone as I turned it off and dropped it into my bag. My heart raced. He’d ask about the phone again.
I tapped my purse nervously. Grey wasn’t a bend-the-rules-kinda-guy when it came to the law. He’d want me to turn the phone over to the police. Tonight. I didn’t want to disappoint him, but Darby was my best friend, and I had her back.
I had to talk to Darby first. Once the police had Mona’s cell, who knew what they’d think? Heck, I didn’t know what to
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