Page 23 of The Magic We Made

“Well, first, I’d fix that.” Francesca points in the direction of the torn screen. “Then I guess I’d try to figure out who did it.”

I nod. “So I can tell the police?”

“No.” She drops her sunglasses back down over her nose, which wrinkled with distaste at my suggestion of calling the cops. “So you can get them the help they need.”

This is not the reply I was expecting. “Really?”

“Really. Maybe we should try to find outwhya group of young girls is stealing food before we saddle them with criminal records for it.”

“Right!” I wonder if she has any idea how cute she is. I know she’s too tall to toss over my shoulder, but I want to try it anyway. “That’s a much better idea. How are we going to do that?”

“Wearen’t.” She leans over and pats me dismissively on the very same shoulder I was thinking of throwing her over. “Youare. Good luck, Mr. Merit.”

Then she turns and begins walking back to her own house, her spine ramrod straight and head held high, but that ass swinging like a pendulum, and her sweet voice—the one she tries so hard to make sound authoritative—still sounding like a dove’s coo.

Damn.

“Uh.” I can’t help myself. I’m trotting after her. “I think I’m probably going to need your help with that. Not being from around here, I don’t have the resources to—”

“Don’t sell yourself short.” She doesn’t break stride. “I can tell that you have plenty ofresources.”

I’m not sure what she means by that, but I can tell she doesn’t mean it to be flattering. I decide to pretend otherwise, especially since itdidend up sounding flattering—every word she utters in that angelic voice sounds like a caress. “Yeah, but I was thinking maybe we could pool our individual resources together, and then work on this problem—”

This stops her dead in her tracks. She turns to look me in the eye, only barely having to lift her chin to do so.

“What problem?” she asks. “Idon’t have a problem. You do.”

“Well, it’s sort of everyone’s problem, isn’t it?” It’s hot out, and where we’re standing in her weed-strewn lawn, there’s no shade. The sun is about to be blotted out by the rain clouds rolling in over the lake, but for now, it’s beating down on both of us. I’m pretty sure that’s not the only reason I’m suddenly sweating, though. “I mean, if kids are breaking into rentals in this neighborhood, then maybe that’s something we need to tackle together. I know I’ve already caused you a lot of hassle, but if you’d just let me take you out for dinner tonight, maybe I could not only make it up to you, but we could figure out a way to—”

She’s already turning back toward her house. “Sorry. I’m busy.”

I know she means to sound dismissive, but all she sounds is cute.

“Oh, sure,” I say, keeping up with her. “Tomorrow night, then?”

“Sorry. I have patients.”

“Atnight?”

“Yes, Mr. Merit.” She whips around to face me again. “And when I’m done with my appointments, I’m usually too mentally exhausted to go out to dinner with someone who wants me to help them solvetheirproblems... for free.”

Whoa. Yeah, she’s mad at me all right. Only, because she’s so pretty and her voice so melodic, her anger is like rain on a hot summer day like this one—soothing and welcome.

“I could pay you,” I say. It’s the only thing I can think of. I want to keep her there. I want to keep listening to her silvery voice. I want her to notice me—more thannotice me.

She doesn’t even turn her head to look at me as she walks away.

“I’m not accepting new patients at this time,” she says as she climbs the steps to her front porch, that ass looking like a denim-clad valentine. Thunder rumbles again, more loudly this time, but Francesca ignores it. “Goodbye, Mr. Merit.”

I’m so enchanted by the honeyed way her lips form the syllables of my name—I swear it’s that, and not the way her ass looks in those shorts—that I don’t even notice she’s opened her front door and is about to leave me all alone in what had once been Dr. Dick’s tidily manicured, weed-free lawn.

All alone except for one other creature.

Because the second Frankie Giovanni opens her front door to go inside, a tiny black-and-white cat slinks out from beneath the steps to her front porch, trots over to me, flops onto her side in the dirt at my feet, and begins affectionately rubbing her head against my shoe.

I knew it. This cat is a complete asshole.

Frankie