have an audience.”
“Unless you want one,” Randy suggested, the humorous leer in his voice making up for the one missing on his face. “Then we’ll bring along some popcorn and sit ourselves down in the front row.”
“If you jokers don’t mind, I’d like to get some sleep,” Sax said. “Because, in case you were too busy staring at Conway’s widow’s ass to pay attention, in just a few hours I’m going to have cops crawling all over this place.”
“Hey, man,” Cowboy said. “You only had to ask.”
And with that they were gone. Like morning mist over the beach.
Two hours later, the sky outside the window had gone from oh-dark-thirty black to the pearly pink of predawn.
Hell .
His ability to sleep eroded by his night visitors, Sax lay on his back and stared up at the ceiling as Velcro’s soft snoring provided a rumbling accompaniment to the roar of the tide beating away at the basalt cliff, as it had for aeons.
And strangely, instead of reliving that deadly mission, as he’d always done in the past after the guys had come calling, he found himself wondering what, exactly, Sheriff Kara Conway had been wearing under that shit-ugly khaki uniform.
6
“Mom!” The sound of sneakers thudded on the stairs. “I can’t find my library book. And if I’m late, sour- faced Mrs. Bernard is going to freak. Again.”
“It’s not polite to speak insultingly of your teacher,” Faith said.
“She’s not my teacher. She’s the school librarian. And not even the real librarian, because she only started substituting when Mrs. Roberts, who was really cool, had to take time off to have her baby.
“Besides, it wasn’t an insult, Gram. It’s an adjective.” He’d been learning parts of speech. “She really does look like she sucks lemons all day. Doesn’t she, Mom?”
“What have we discussed about not judging a book by its cover?” Kara asked.
“She’s not a book.” With total disregard for both his body and his grandmother’s furniture, Trey Conway threw himself into the heavy scrolled iron chair.
“But the same holds true for people.” She placed a bowl of cinnamon-spiced oatmeal topped with granola and a sliced banana along with a glass of milk in front of her son. “That’s exactly how prejudices get started.”
“I know.” He blew out a long-suffering sigh, then frowned down at the breakfast. “Jimmy Brown’s mother gives him Froot Loops and Pop- Tarts for breakfast. And they have this entire great big, huge pantry where they keep all their snack foods.”
“Sounds as if Mrs. Brown needs a few lessons in nutrition,” Faith observed.
“Strawberry Pop- Tarts are the best. I had some the morning after our sleepover.”
“Maybe because it was a special occasion,” Kara suggested, attempting to placate her physician mother.
“Nah.” Despite claiming to prefer more sugary cereal, he dug into the oatmeal. Trey had been born with a huge appetite, causing Jared to claim he had a hollow leg. “Jimmy says he gets good stuff like that all the time.”
“Mrs. Brown’s family dentist must love her,” Faith murmured.
“Different families do things in different ways.” Kara poured coffee into a thermal cup to take with her out to the beach. Having spent a restless night chasing sleep, being troubled by those damn dreams of Sax, she was in desperate need of caffeine. “And in this family we believe that breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”
“So when Jimmy stays over tonight, he’s gonna have to eat oatmeal?”
“I suppose we could fix something else. Like waffles or pancakes.”
“With chocolate syrup and whipped cream? Like Mrs. Brown makes?”
“Might as well eat sugar straight from the box,” Faith muttered.
“I suppose that could be arranged,” Kara agreed. “If you get an A on your spelling test.”
“Spelling’s easy,” he said with a grin that was missing a tooth. “I can ace that. Can we have pizza, too?”
“What’s a sleepover
“Unless you want one,” Randy suggested, the humorous leer in his voice making up for the one missing on his face. “Then we’ll bring along some popcorn and sit ourselves down in the front row.”
“If you jokers don’t mind, I’d like to get some sleep,” Sax said. “Because, in case you were too busy staring at Conway’s widow’s ass to pay attention, in just a few hours I’m going to have cops crawling all over this place.”
“Hey, man,” Cowboy said. “You only had to ask.”
And with that they were gone. Like morning mist over the beach.
Two hours later, the sky outside the window had gone from oh-dark-thirty black to the pearly pink of predawn.
Hell .
His ability to sleep eroded by his night visitors, Sax lay on his back and stared up at the ceiling as Velcro’s soft snoring provided a rumbling accompaniment to the roar of the tide beating away at the basalt cliff, as it had for aeons.
And strangely, instead of reliving that deadly mission, as he’d always done in the past after the guys had come calling, he found himself wondering what, exactly, Sheriff Kara Conway had been wearing under that shit-ugly khaki uniform.
6
“Mom!” The sound of sneakers thudded on the stairs. “I can’t find my library book. And if I’m late, sour- faced Mrs. Bernard is going to freak. Again.”
“It’s not polite to speak insultingly of your teacher,” Faith said.
“She’s not my teacher. She’s the school librarian. And not even the real librarian, because she only started substituting when Mrs. Roberts, who was really cool, had to take time off to have her baby.
“Besides, it wasn’t an insult, Gram. It’s an adjective.” He’d been learning parts of speech. “She really does look like she sucks lemons all day. Doesn’t she, Mom?”
“What have we discussed about not judging a book by its cover?” Kara asked.
“She’s not a book.” With total disregard for both his body and his grandmother’s furniture, Trey Conway threw himself into the heavy scrolled iron chair.
“But the same holds true for people.” She placed a bowl of cinnamon-spiced oatmeal topped with granola and a sliced banana along with a glass of milk in front of her son. “That’s exactly how prejudices get started.”
“I know.” He blew out a long-suffering sigh, then frowned down at the breakfast. “Jimmy Brown’s mother gives him Froot Loops and Pop- Tarts for breakfast. And they have this entire great big, huge pantry where they keep all their snack foods.”
“Sounds as if Mrs. Brown needs a few lessons in nutrition,” Faith observed.
“Strawberry Pop- Tarts are the best. I had some the morning after our sleepover.”
“Maybe because it was a special occasion,” Kara suggested, attempting to placate her physician mother.
“Nah.” Despite claiming to prefer more sugary cereal, he dug into the oatmeal. Trey had been born with a huge appetite, causing Jared to claim he had a hollow leg. “Jimmy says he gets good stuff like that all the time.”
“Mrs. Brown’s family dentist must love her,” Faith murmured.
“Different families do things in different ways.” Kara poured coffee into a thermal cup to take with her out to the beach. Having spent a restless night chasing sleep, being troubled by those damn dreams of Sax, she was in desperate need of caffeine. “And in this family we believe that breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”
“So when Jimmy stays over tonight, he’s gonna have to eat oatmeal?”
“I suppose we could fix something else. Like waffles or pancakes.”
“With chocolate syrup and whipped cream? Like Mrs. Brown makes?”
“Might as well eat sugar straight from the box,” Faith muttered.
“I suppose that could be arranged,” Kara agreed. “If you get an A on your spelling test.”
“Spelling’s easy,” he said with a grin that was missing a tooth. “I can ace that. Can we have pizza, too?”
“What’s a sleepover
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