Page 60 of Sucker For You

“Both octopuses and dogs can follow a human’s pointing finger. They recognize individual faces, too.”

“Then they’re smarter than some people. Lots of people.” He kicked off his boots and waved back at the octopus. “But the question is: is she actually happy to see us? Is she whining about dinner being late? Or is she playing cute because she’s done something naughty that we don’t know about yet?”

Isabel lined up her sandals on the doormat, deposited her thrifted haul near his duffels, and came to crouch beside the tank. She moved her fingers against it, tracking the creature’s gestures and being tracked herself. Her breath fogged the glass in a ghost of a smile; her sharp, steely focus from MORI and the secondhand store softened a fraction. “All three, maybe?”

“Right. But—seriously, what are we going to call her? So we have a name to shout when she overflows her aquarium.”

Just like that, the brightness dimmed from Isabel’s mouth. “I already said. . . at the Seattle Aquarium, I called the subjects—”

“—by their tank numbers? I remember. But she’s not a research subject anymore. We can do better thanC-190.”

“It’s not—”

“Think about it.” Then, changing the subject and ducking into the kitchen, where he grabbed a prawn and a few sea snails from the refrigerator, before rejoining the two-spot and Isabel at the tank, he continued, “Whatever happened to our girl in the lab, I bet she gave as good as she got.”

They removed Wes’s dive weights from the lid of the aquarium. Questing suckers instantly ensnared them. The octopus stole the shrimp in seconds and tried to unfasten his watch, until he bopped a finger between her eyes. She retaliated by squirting him. He blew a raspberry at her.

“She probably flooded at least one room. Took watches and rings. Injected someone with venom.”

“They deserved it. Whoever they were.Are.” Undistracted and unamused, Isabel shook her head. “She won’t have been the only one, either.”

“No.”

“The two-spot researcher from Saturday’s tour was at MORI again this afternoon. Dr. Solomon. Did you see how she reacted when I approached the nursery tank?”

“Hmm?” He hadn’t. He’d been aware of the lab’s spiky, toothy, venomous animals. He’d compared Isabel’s sandals with the staff’s protective boots, gloves, and goggles, too. But if he could conjure a vague outline of another woman by the cephalopod tank, his memory offered no identifying characteristics.

Weird.

Or. . . not weird, if he was very truthful.

Because Isabel had been there.

Isabel, glowing with excitement and wonder and determination, diving head-first into her investigation.

What the hell would she do to the person—or people—oreven a whole institution—when she found who’d hurt their juvenile two-spot?

That’ll be something to see.

His voice was gravelly with inconvenient fantasies when he managed, “Y-yeah. The octopus researcher.”

“She was brusque on Saturday. More so today. The facilities manager called her acold fish, and I—I thought. . .” But Isabel trailed off. Her frowning focus returned to the octopus. Their guest was extracting a sea snail from its shell, while holding the shrimp loosely in her third arm. Maybe she was saving the prawn for a nighttime snack.

Forethought and future planning.

Wes knew he would have failed the marshmallow test.

Since they had their own future plans to discuss, however, he replaced the tank’s lid after a minute, wiped his wet hands on his shorts, and reminded them both, “We’ll have to schedule a few dates in between our Moss Landing work shifts.”

Isabel’s gaze briefly flicked away from the octopus, over the streaks he’d left on his thighs. A freckling of color dusted her cheekbones. “Yes. For the interviewer—and the photographs.”

He nodded.

“Uh. How did today’s picture from Old Fisherman’s Wharf come out? Was the angle all right? The lighting? I don’t know if the focus. . .”

Her focus had been perfect. He didn’t need any evidence beyond the memory seared deep into his body to prove that. But since she was waiting for his answer, rising up from her crouch at the tank with her balance shifting from foot to bare foot, nibbling at her lip with her eyes down again and her cheeks warm, he retrieved his Nikon. He brought up her snap on its digital viewing screen.

“See?”