stopped in.
Granted, she wasn’t a skilled investigator, but she could make
up for in enthusiasm what she lacked in experience.
The past six weeks had been some of the most exciting of her
life. Considering her previous line of work had been producing and selling
bottle art with her mother, that wasn’t saying much.
Kayla had come up with the idea of learning the ropes from her
uncle a couple years ago. After much resistance, he’d finally agreed to an
eight-week trial, providing she worked for a pittance.
She’d messed up a few times, including on surveillance duty
when it didn’t occur to her the subject might leave his house via a back window.
She was getting better, though.
If a client would walk through the door, she’d get a chance to
prove it. Kayla stared at the entrance, willing somebody in need of help to
materialize.
Five minutes later, she sank into the orange-and-teal-striped
sofa in the waiting area, wondering how to fill the time. In previous days,
she’d tidied up the magazines on the coffee table, fluffed the pillows and swept
the floor. All that was left to do was clean the baseboards.
Minutes later, with a wet paper towel in hand, she gazed down
at the short yellow skirt she’d paired with a white top. Not the best outfit for
baseboard cleaning. She balanced on her haunches but almost toppled over on her
wedged-heel sandals.
“Forget that.” She got down on her knees and went to work.
The swooshing noise was so unexpected it took her a moment to
realize the door had swung open. Kayla got to her feet with as much dignity as
she could muster and turned to greet the arrival.
Alex Suarez. She fought not to sway. It was Alex Suarez, the
object of her unrequited crush. A charming smile split his tan, handsome face.
He was wearing sunglasses with silver frames and black lenses. He slid them off
slowly and she noticed one of the lenses had a slight scratch. No surprise. She
noticed everything about him and had for years.
“Well, hello,” he said.
She smoothed her skirt the best she could, terribly afraid the
first thing he’d seen upon entering the office was her yellow rear end. This was
why people didn’t take her seriously. Such things were always happening to
her.
“Welcome to Dexter Private Investigations.” Her voice cracked
on the name. “How can I help you?”
He walked deeper into the office, the smile still present. With
his thick dark hair, high forehead and angular cheekbones, he looked almost
exotic. She’d heard his given first name was Alejandro but that he’d started
calling himself Alex after he emigrated from Cuba with his parents when he was a
child. The name had stuck. An accent hadn’t. He sounded quintessentially
American.
He studied her. “I know you from somewhere.”
She would have been flattered if she hadn’t been stopping by
his restaurant regularly for nearly a year. The Daybreak Café operated from 7:00
a.m. to 2:00 p.m. daily, serving both American and Cuban specialties for
breakfast and lunch.
“I’m a fan of the Cuban sandwiches at your restaurant,” she
said. “I get one for takeout a few times a month.”
He snapped his fingers. “That must be it. I didn’t know they
let you leave school for lunch, though.”
“Excuse me?”
“You go to Key West High, right?” he asked.
He thought she was in high school? She felt her face flame. “I
graduated from there a long time ago. I’m twenty-five.”
“Really?” His eyes widened. They were such a dark brown they
were almost black. “I never would have guessed it.”
She stood up to her full height of five feet two, taller if you
took into account the heels of her chunky sandals. “I look younger.”
“You look great,” he said, his smile widening.
She hoped she wasn’t blushing. “How old are you?”
“Thirty-five.”
“Well, then, you look younger, too,” she said. “I wouldn’t have
guessed any older than twenty-nine.”
He laughed. “I’m Alex Suarez, by the
Granted, she wasn’t a skilled investigator, but she could make
up for in enthusiasm what she lacked in experience.
The past six weeks had been some of the most exciting of her
life. Considering her previous line of work had been producing and selling
bottle art with her mother, that wasn’t saying much.
Kayla had come up with the idea of learning the ropes from her
uncle a couple years ago. After much resistance, he’d finally agreed to an
eight-week trial, providing she worked for a pittance.
She’d messed up a few times, including on surveillance duty
when it didn’t occur to her the subject might leave his house via a back window.
She was getting better, though.
If a client would walk through the door, she’d get a chance to
prove it. Kayla stared at the entrance, willing somebody in need of help to
materialize.
Five minutes later, she sank into the orange-and-teal-striped
sofa in the waiting area, wondering how to fill the time. In previous days,
she’d tidied up the magazines on the coffee table, fluffed the pillows and swept
the floor. All that was left to do was clean the baseboards.
Minutes later, with a wet paper towel in hand, she gazed down
at the short yellow skirt she’d paired with a white top. Not the best outfit for
baseboard cleaning. She balanced on her haunches but almost toppled over on her
wedged-heel sandals.
“Forget that.” She got down on her knees and went to work.
The swooshing noise was so unexpected it took her a moment to
realize the door had swung open. Kayla got to her feet with as much dignity as
she could muster and turned to greet the arrival.
Alex Suarez. She fought not to sway. It was Alex Suarez, the
object of her unrequited crush. A charming smile split his tan, handsome face.
He was wearing sunglasses with silver frames and black lenses. He slid them off
slowly and she noticed one of the lenses had a slight scratch. No surprise. She
noticed everything about him and had for years.
“Well, hello,” he said.
She smoothed her skirt the best she could, terribly afraid the
first thing he’d seen upon entering the office was her yellow rear end. This was
why people didn’t take her seriously. Such things were always happening to
her.
“Welcome to Dexter Private Investigations.” Her voice cracked
on the name. “How can I help you?”
He walked deeper into the office, the smile still present. With
his thick dark hair, high forehead and angular cheekbones, he looked almost
exotic. She’d heard his given first name was Alejandro but that he’d started
calling himself Alex after he emigrated from Cuba with his parents when he was a
child. The name had stuck. An accent hadn’t. He sounded quintessentially
American.
He studied her. “I know you from somewhere.”
She would have been flattered if she hadn’t been stopping by
his restaurant regularly for nearly a year. The Daybreak Café operated from 7:00
a.m. to 2:00 p.m. daily, serving both American and Cuban specialties for
breakfast and lunch.
“I’m a fan of the Cuban sandwiches at your restaurant,” she
said. “I get one for takeout a few times a month.”
He snapped his fingers. “That must be it. I didn’t know they
let you leave school for lunch, though.”
“Excuse me?”
“You go to Key West High, right?” he asked.
He thought she was in high school? She felt her face flame. “I
graduated from there a long time ago. I’m twenty-five.”
“Really?” His eyes widened. They were such a dark brown they
were almost black. “I never would have guessed it.”
She stood up to her full height of five feet two, taller if you
took into account the heels of her chunky sandals. “I look younger.”
“You look great,” he said, his smile widening.
She hoped she wasn’t blushing. “How old are you?”
“Thirty-five.”
“Well, then, you look younger, too,” she said. “I wouldn’t have
guessed any older than twenty-nine.”
He laughed. “I’m Alex Suarez, by the
Similar Books
