large gulp, the room-temperature liquid warming my insides. Mr. Beanless Bag would have been a whole lot less embarrassing than Mr. Limp Winkie.
“Have a seat. Dinner will be ready in a minute,” Dylan called out from the kitchen.
“Humph. Easier said than done,” I mumbled, and took another sip of my merlot.
I eyed a large wicker chair. It looked hard and uncomfortable. Next to that was a black marble chair in the shape of a hand. I’d had enough of marble, thank you very much. Besides, it looked as though you sat on the palm and the fingers supported your back. No way was I going to sit with someone’s hand cradling my insecurity.
My gaze darted to the kitchen just as Dylan bent over to check the oven. Wow, what that man did to a pair of Levi’s was sinful. The man had the most amazing set of buns I’d ever seen. Don’t go there, Cal . I shook my head. Must be the wine .
Glancing around once more, I sighed. What had he been thinking when he picked these things out? I tipped back my glass and finished my drink, then set it on an end table in the shape of a barrel. The only other place to sit was a hammock. I’d used a hammock plenty of times back home. This should be a piece of cake.
I sat on the edge, flopped on my back, then whipped my feet up, but the hammock tilted sharply to the left. I overcorrected by surging to the right.
And the race was on.
Left, right, twist, turn, grunt, groan, wrestle, wrestle, wrestle. I felt like I was competing in Cutesville’s annual rodeo, racing against the clock, wrestling a steer. Or in this case a crazed hammock.
“Dinner’s ready,” Hot Britches called from the dining room.
Of course it was. Then the hammock decided to pitch and roll three times, wrapping me tightly in its net.
“Callie? Everything’s ready. Care to join me in...” Dylan’s voice trailed off, and he came to a stop at my head. All I could see were his snakeskin boots, since I lay face down about a foot off the floor.
“Comfy?” he croaked.
My lips poked out of one of the hammock’s holes. “Wewy, wunny.”
“I didn’t quite catch that, Elmer Fudd.” He knelt down and dipped his head to the side so he could see my face. A loud laugh burst out of him, and he fell off his haunches onto his hind end.
“If you’we done waughing, get me out of hewe!”
“Sure thing, it’s just... sorry, Mac, I can’t resist.” He sprang to his feet and ran away.
Where was he going? I didn’t have to wonder long.
He returned and slid beneath me. “Sorry, Elmer, but this is too priceless to pass up.” He gave me a devilish grin and bit the insides of his cheeks, puckering his own lips, then pressed them briefly to mine. When my eyes sprang wide, he whipped out a camera and snapped off a shot quick as lightning. “Kissing a fish was worth that expression.”
I blinked, seeing white spots from the flash. Fish kiss? If I could feel my lips, I’d have bitten his pucker off. What a rotten sneaky trick to pull. “You’we dead meat, mistew.”
He winked at me, rolled to his feet, and then proceeded to untangle me from the hammock’s relentless hold. When my boots hit the floor, I shook my hands, stomped my feet, and twisted my lips until the circulation returned.
“One of the supports is loose, and I haven’t had a chance to fix it yet. It can be a bit tricky.”
“Ya think?” I smirked.
“Sorry.” He grinned. “Follow me.”
“Dinner had better be worth it after all this.”
“No one’s complained about my cooking before. My furniture, maybe, but my cooking, no way. Come on. I’ll get you another glass of wine.”
“Better bring the bottle,” I muttered and followed him to the dining room. Something told me even the whole bottle wouldn’t be enough to get me through this evening.
CHAPTER FOUR
Detective Cabrizzi pulled out my chair and then scooted it in as I sat. “So, what’s up with that statue, anyway?” I asked, needing to start up a conversation.
He laughed,
“Have a seat. Dinner will be ready in a minute,” Dylan called out from the kitchen.
“Humph. Easier said than done,” I mumbled, and took another sip of my merlot.
I eyed a large wicker chair. It looked hard and uncomfortable. Next to that was a black marble chair in the shape of a hand. I’d had enough of marble, thank you very much. Besides, it looked as though you sat on the palm and the fingers supported your back. No way was I going to sit with someone’s hand cradling my insecurity.
My gaze darted to the kitchen just as Dylan bent over to check the oven. Wow, what that man did to a pair of Levi’s was sinful. The man had the most amazing set of buns I’d ever seen. Don’t go there, Cal . I shook my head. Must be the wine .
Glancing around once more, I sighed. What had he been thinking when he picked these things out? I tipped back my glass and finished my drink, then set it on an end table in the shape of a barrel. The only other place to sit was a hammock. I’d used a hammock plenty of times back home. This should be a piece of cake.
I sat on the edge, flopped on my back, then whipped my feet up, but the hammock tilted sharply to the left. I overcorrected by surging to the right.
And the race was on.
Left, right, twist, turn, grunt, groan, wrestle, wrestle, wrestle. I felt like I was competing in Cutesville’s annual rodeo, racing against the clock, wrestling a steer. Or in this case a crazed hammock.
“Dinner’s ready,” Hot Britches called from the dining room.
Of course it was. Then the hammock decided to pitch and roll three times, wrapping me tightly in its net.
“Callie? Everything’s ready. Care to join me in...” Dylan’s voice trailed off, and he came to a stop at my head. All I could see were his snakeskin boots, since I lay face down about a foot off the floor.
“Comfy?” he croaked.
My lips poked out of one of the hammock’s holes. “Wewy, wunny.”
“I didn’t quite catch that, Elmer Fudd.” He knelt down and dipped his head to the side so he could see my face. A loud laugh burst out of him, and he fell off his haunches onto his hind end.
“If you’we done waughing, get me out of hewe!”
“Sure thing, it’s just... sorry, Mac, I can’t resist.” He sprang to his feet and ran away.
Where was he going? I didn’t have to wonder long.
He returned and slid beneath me. “Sorry, Elmer, but this is too priceless to pass up.” He gave me a devilish grin and bit the insides of his cheeks, puckering his own lips, then pressed them briefly to mine. When my eyes sprang wide, he whipped out a camera and snapped off a shot quick as lightning. “Kissing a fish was worth that expression.”
I blinked, seeing white spots from the flash. Fish kiss? If I could feel my lips, I’d have bitten his pucker off. What a rotten sneaky trick to pull. “You’we dead meat, mistew.”
He winked at me, rolled to his feet, and then proceeded to untangle me from the hammock’s relentless hold. When my boots hit the floor, I shook my hands, stomped my feet, and twisted my lips until the circulation returned.
“One of the supports is loose, and I haven’t had a chance to fix it yet. It can be a bit tricky.”
“Ya think?” I smirked.
“Sorry.” He grinned. “Follow me.”
“Dinner had better be worth it after all this.”
“No one’s complained about my cooking before. My furniture, maybe, but my cooking, no way. Come on. I’ll get you another glass of wine.”
“Better bring the bottle,” I muttered and followed him to the dining room. Something told me even the whole bottle wouldn’t be enough to get me through this evening.
CHAPTER FOUR
Detective Cabrizzi pulled out my chair and then scooted it in as I sat. “So, what’s up with that statue, anyway?” I asked, needing to start up a conversation.
He laughed,
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