Blue Skies by Robyn Carr Page A

him. The garage door was open, and his car sat next to Robert’s inside. There was a nice little BMW parked on the street, and the lights were on in the house.
    Dixie parked and got out of the car, then walked up the sidewalk to the steps. Hands on hips, she looked down at him. “Hey, you. You goin’ to work?”
    â€œI just got home,” he said, standing up. He tossed a look over his shoulder at his house and there was no mistaking his sad expression. “My trip was cancelled. I came home unexpectedly and I found Robert…entertaining.”
    â€œOh, damn, Carlisle. That’s awful.”
    He shrugged, his hands shoved into his pockets. “I could’ve called. But I didn’t.”
    Smarter than me, Dixie thought. I never had a clue. “What are you gonna do?”
    â€œI’ve been trying to decide. Yell and break things? No. That’s unlike me. Too messy. Get drunk? Exact revenge of some kind? I could dip his toothbrush in the toilet every morning.”
    â€œVery passive-aggressive,” she observed. “You could hit him in the head with somethin’.”
    Carlisle stretched his back. “I doubt he’d hold still for that.”
    She chuckled in spite of herself. “Carlisle, the idea is to do it real fast, surprise the critter, get off one good shot like that whack-a-mole game, before—” She stopped talking as the front door slowly opened.
    A pudgy young man around twenty-five poked his head outside, checking for danger. He paused as though listening for the cocking of a rifle. Dixie and Carlisle both glared. The young man sheepishly came out the door, down the steps past Carlisle, and, head down, made his way cautiously along the sidewalk to his BMW.
    â€œI’ll be hanged,” Dixie said as the man got into his car. “He’s a baby! Not exactly what I’d call fetchin’. And he’s all swishy.”
    â€œAnd a little squishy, too,” Carlisle said.
    By contrast, Carlisle was quite handsome and solid. Thirty-eight, a real blond, he had classically handsome features—high cheekbones, strong chin, great smile. They always were the cute ones.
    â€œAll right, Carlisle,” Robert said from inside the house. “He’s gone. Come inside.”
    Robert stood in the doorway, very much at ease and unembarrassed. As if he’d been caught picking his nose, not screwing around on his partner. Even knowing he was gay, a woman could be stirred by the Latino’s strong good looks. While Carlisle sometimes exhibited that telltale effeminate affectation, Robert—or Roberto—was what they liked to teasingly call “a man’s man.”
    Carlisle’s going to do what he says, Dixie thought in near despair.
    â€œI don’t think so, Robert. I’m going to help myself to some ‘think time.’”
    Yay!
    â€œLet’s not drag this out,” Robert said. “That’ll only make it worse.”
    Carlisle grabbed his overnight bag and began to pull it down the sidewalk toward the street. Dixie happily trotted along behind him.
    â€œIf you leave now, you might not be welcomed back!”
    Without turning around, Carlisle lifted his hand in the air and gave him the middle-finger salute. Behind him the door slammed shut.
    He didn’t look back. After stowing his suitcase in Dixie’s back seat, he climbed in front.
    Dixie got in beside him. “I know that was hard for you, buddy. I’m proud of you.”
    He shrugged. “Now what?”
    â€œMy house,” she said. “We’ll have a couple of drinks, something to eat and maybe a little bonfire in the backyard grill. I have some pilot clothes I’m thinkin’ of lightin’ up.”
    Â 
    It wasn’t until the very last leg of Nikki’s three-day trip that the work started to get interesting, and not just the flying part. It was Chicago to Phoenix, the sky was a crystal, unmoving blue, and