“Nothing. I’m just taking an interest in your job.” Truth was, I didn’t think I could concentrate on enjoying Grady … truly, truly enjoying Grady … like, luxuriating in the total enjoyment of all that was Grady … until I could get all this other business off my mind.
He raised an eyebrow. “Just tell me.”
“It’s nothing,” I said, looking off to the darkened trees. “Kit Kat was just acting a little weird, and—you know what? Never mind. It’s not important. I did not travel nearly twenty hours by bus to talk to you about my mother or Freddie or Tweety. In fact, I’m going to be completely honest with you. There’s a big, big part of me that doesn’t want to talk to you at all.”
Grady inhaled sharply. “While I can’t even begin to express how deeply I am in favor of that sentiment, before we get started here, again, I think there’s something you should know about me.”
I threw him a sideways look. “Okay.”
“Erica, at any given time, odds are I’m thinking about one of three things.” He put up a finger. “Work.” Another finger popped up. “Food.” Another finger. “And you.”
“Aw,” I said, with a smile. “Wait, is that list in any particular order?”
He ignored me. “Now, during play-off season, one of those things has to swap out, but really, for the rest of the time, that’s pretty much it.”
I nodded sharply. “Okay, I’m with you.”
“Here’s the catch,” he said, cocking his head. “I can’t think about more than one of those things at the same time.”
“I see.”
“I would really like to focus on you right now,” he said. “See, even as I said that, a vision of you in that bikini top you were wearing at the dock that one time just popped in my head. But if I think of work,” he went on, making a poof gesture with his fingers, “it’s gone.”
“Right.”
“So I guess what I’m saying is, do you want to talk about Mr. Masterson or do you want to do”—he gestured around over our bodies—“this? ’Cause I really think I may be physically incapable of doing both.”
“Oh, I definitely want to do this.”
“Excellent.” Grady began to move toward me again … then suddenly stopped.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, blinking the stars out of my eyes. “I thought we were doing this?”
“I can’t,” he said, sounding as surprised as I was. He pushed himself back a foot or two this time and looked at me. “You said Kit Kat was acting weird? What kind of weird exactly?”
“I should never have said anything.” I got up on my hands and knees and crawled toward him on the rocky ground, which really kind of hurt and made it hard to keep the sexy look on my face. “Come here, you—”
“Seriously, I can’t believe I’m saying this, like really, really can’t believe I’m saying this, but—” Grady shook his head and rose to his feet. “I gotta go.”
“What!”
“Well, a few people mentioned that maybe—” He cut himself off when he saw how closely I was listening. “I gotta go.”
“Seriously?”
He threw his hands in the air. “I know!”
“But all this—” I said, waving my hands around the fire and food.
“Oh, I know.” He tapped his temple. “A lot of thought went into it when I was on Erica thinking time.”
I sighed. “And I switched you to work.”
“No, no. Well, kind of. It’s just now, I’ve got all these questions,” he said, shaking his head side-to-side. “It’s like I’m not sure if I turned off the stove.”
“This is horrible.”
“I can’t believe it myself,” he said, putting his hands on his chest, right where my hands should have been.
“Look, Grady,” I said, getting to my feet, “about Kit Kat. I really just think that maybe she was concerned about rumors starting up about her sister and Mr. Masterson. That’s all.”
He nodded. “I hear you, and I don’t want to put you in any kind of awkward position. I’m just going to check in with the medical examiner to make sure everything is completely straightforward.” Grady stopped and planted his hands on his hips. “I’ve never marinated salmon before.” He walked toward the side of the cabin. “Do you want to take some with you?”
“No,” I said, feeling my face drop. “I think I would be sad eating it back at the retreat.” I sighed. “This sucks. I suck.”
He walked back toward me. “It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have tried to pull this off given all that happened today. I was just so looking forward to—” He cut himself off with a shake of his head, and then wrapped his hand around mine. “I’ll walk you to your boat.” He gently squeezed my fingers. “Then I had better put away that salmon.”
“Bears?”
“Bears.”
* * *
With nothing to do, I decided to head back to town and take another walk through the midway. I certainly didn’t want to go back to the retreat and make all sorts of eye contact with silent people. Besides, I loved the fair at night. The Ferris wheel all lit up. The hordes of teenagers laughing and trying to win teddy bears. The looming giant pumpkin threatening to murder the entire town … plus, admission was free after nine.
I shoved my hands deep into my jean pockets. The air certainly was getting nippy.
“Hey, what are you doing here?” I turned to see Freddie walking toward me, coffee in hand. Sure enough, he was dressed in a very security-looking black sweater that zipped up at the throat. “I thought tonight was the night?”
“Yeah,” I said, kicking the dirt, “it didn’t exactly work out as planned.”
Freddie nodded. “That’s what happens when you’re star-crossed.”
“Don’t start,” I said. “Grady and I aren’t star-crossed.”
“You’re right. You’re too old,” he said matter-of-factly. “It isn’t cute anymore. Star-crossed at this age just means you need therapy.”
I made a face at him.
“Well, come on. You can walk the beat with me.”
I fell into step with Freddie. It was probably best that I had run into him, seeing as everybody wanted me to try to rein him in. Thing was, I didn’t exactly want to … and it really didn’t seem all that necessary. I was glad Freddie had found a niche for himself.
We walked a bit in silence until I tried to make a left at the bumper cars.
“Not that way,” Freddie said quickly.
“Why?” I asked, throwing him a look. “I want to go see the petting zoo.”
“What are you, eight?” Freddie asked, frowning. “I already told you I don’t like the pumpkin people. Besides, the animals are asleep.”
“What pumpkin people? You mean those teenage guys by the corn maze?” I pointed back over at the high fence covered with tall stalks of corn. Standing by the entrance were two guys wearing large pumpkin-head masks leaning against the booth.
“Do you see any other pumpkin people?”
“Why are you being so snarky?”
Freddie huffed a breath through his nose. “I had a bad experience as a child. A nanny left me in the corn maze with them, and now they freak me out.”
“Oh my God,” I said, grimacing. “That sounds kind of awful.”
“I know, right?” Freddie said, eyes widening. “Besides, I think they’re local kids volunteering, and I’ve been riding the adolescents of this town pretty hard to keep them in l—”
“Wait,” I said, putting my hands up. “You’ve been doing what now?” Suddenly Grady’s concerns were looking a bit more valid.
“All right. All right. Let’s not make a big deal of this. I can hear the sheriff in your voice.” Freddie picked up speed, forcing fairgoers to clear a path for him. “Besides, I don’t see how anyone could not be freaked out by those things what with the soulless eyes peering out of the garish oversized gourds.”
“Right.”
He shuddered. “Like they don’t have any expression … except for what’s cut out … and it’s frozen.”
“Sure.”
“Stop judging me!”
I grabbed his arm to stop him. “Freddie, it’s fine. We don’t have to go anywhere near the pumpkin people, and—Oh my God there’s one right behind you!”
Freddie jumped and pivoted in the air to face the empty space behind him.
“You are a horrible person.”
I chuckled.
“Seriously. There’s no excuse for that.”
We walked on through the midway of games. “So what happened tonight? Why aren’t you with Grady?”
I told Freddie about the campfire with the Moroccan-style seating. I told him about the wine, the twinkle lights, and the salmon plank. I still couldn’t quite believe it even though I was the one setting the scene.
“Wow,” Freddie said with a nod. “Talk about overkill. Doesn’t he know you’re a sure thing?”
I whacked him on the arm.
“Ow,” he said, rubbing the spot. “So what happened?”
“I messed up. I told him about Kit Kat coming by and—” I snapped my mouth shut. Dammit! Again. Telling Grady ruined our evening, but telling Freddie, well, that could ruin my entire trip.
“What about Kit Kat coming by?”
“It was nothing. She was worried, I mean, upset with how Grady was questioning Tweety.”
Freddie pivoted quickly to stand in front of me, causing me to veer to the right and trip over my own feet. Luckily, I recovered before I hit the dirt. “Hey!”
“You’re lying to me.”
“I am not.” I was suddenly very aware of my face. It happened every time I lied. It was like I no longer knew how to make a natural expression, so my face twisted up into an exaggerated version of the face I made when I smelled something bad.
“You totally are.”
“Freddie,” I said, sighing. “It’s nothing, and you have a tendency to make little things into big things.”
“Oh no, my friend. Now I know it’s really something,” he said with a pretty self-assured nod. “When someone works this hard to say it’s nothing, it’s definitely something. So what aren’t you telling me?”
“Nothing,” I said with a little more vigor.
“Tell me. You know you want to. That wasn’t me you tripped over just there,” he said with a point back. “That was Freud.”
I groaned. Maybe Freddie was right. I obviously was having trouble keeping this whole business with Kit Kat in. She had behaved really strangely. “Kit Kat just came by and she, she wanted to make sure that you and I weren’t planning to investigate Mr. Masterson’s demise.”
Freddie shook his head quickly, cocked it to the side, and leaned his ear toward me. “I’m sorry, what was that last part? You mumbled.”
I threw my hands into the air and raised my voice. “She doesn’t want us asking questions about Mr. Masterson! Which I told her was not a problem because—” I looked at Freddie. He had stopped walking and his eyes were closed. It also looked like he was mumbling something under his breath. “Are you okay?”
He snapped his eyes open. “I was just giving thanks.”
“Why? And to whom?”
“For the case,” he said with a breath. “And to Farrah Fawcett. I like to think of her as my fairy godmother.”
I shook my head. “Oh Jesus.”
“Now, it’s good that you came to me with this,” Freddie said with his eyes squinted into his most considering face. “Grady, while adorable—Salmon plank! Who knew—is out of his league.” Freddie started walking again, but I don’t think he was seeing any of the fair anymore. Luckily people were still moving out the way.
I scrambled to keep up with him. “No. No. No. We are not doing this. Kit Kat had a very threatening air about her and she flicked my chest,” I said, pointing to the bone. “We are just going to let Grady handle this and—”
“Threatening,” Freddie repeated, cocking an eyebrow. “Really? This must be very serious.”
“Freddie—”
“Erica.”
I growled with frustration.
“Look. I’m not saying we should go stir up trouble. Let’s just ask a few questions to see if there really is anything to worry about. They might need our help.”
I scoffed. “Said no one ever.”
“Besides, the sooner we get to the bottom of this, the sooner you and Grady can eat your salmon,” he said, his eyebrows jumping up twice in quick succession.
“That had to be the worst euphemism ever.”
“Yeah, I realized it as I was saying it,” Freddie said, lip curling. “But you can’t tell me you’re going to be able to focus on love when you’re this worried about the twins.” I started to say something, but Freddie cut me off. “And don’t tell me you’re not worried because, again, you wouldn’t keep blurting it out if you weren’t.”
I grumbled something under my breath then said, “Part of me really thinks we should stay out of it this time.”
“Oh!” Freddie suddenly hopped in the air. “You know what we’re going to do?”
“I’m afraid to ask.”
“Bingo!”
“I’m sorry?”
“Bingo. We’re going to play bingo. If you want to know what the old-timers are up to, you got to be willing to roll the balls.”
I raised my eyebrows.
“Sorry, I was just trying to make bingo sound thug,” he said with a quick head shake. “But nothing’s landing right.” He grabbed my arm.
I didn’t move. “And what’s this I hear about a pilot?”
“Pilot? What? Oh … that’s the five-year plan.” He gave my arm a yank. “Let’s go.”