Page 39 of The Burbs and the Bees
“Yeah, you’re right.”
“You’re good then?”
“Just tired.”
“That’s what we’re calling needing to get laid. Angie has been eyeing you.”
I glance at the server. “Colin—”
“Fine then. Go home. Get some rest, buddy.”
“Yeah, I’d better get going. There’s a coyote around, and Alyson has no idea how to deal with it. I should probably check in on her.” Colin gives me a knowing grin as I hang up my pool cue and head outside. Darkness falls over the town as I hop into my truck and head back home. I slow down as I drive past Alyson’s, expecting to see all the lights off, but her market is lit up like a Christmas tree. Shit. I try to drive past, I really do, but I think my truck has a mind of its own. I ease into her driveway and slam it into park.
My feet hit soft ground as I slide from the cab and make my way to the market. I push through the door and glance around.
“Alyson, you here?”
No answer, but the scent of ginger hits me, and I head toward the kitchen, only to find it empty. I’m about to leave when I spot the pot on the stove and the burner on.
“Shit.” I remove the lid and grab the wooden spoon to give the thick, nearly burnt liquid a stir. Alyson made squash soup? Nice, but leaving it to burn on the stove, in a century-old barn that’s as dry as the Sahara Desert, might not be her smartest move. Where the hell is she?
I shut the burner down and remove the pot, then go out back in search of Alyson, using my phone flashlight for illumination.
“Alyson,” I call again, and far in the distance I hear her faint voice calling back. “What the hell is she doing?” I walk the orchard and check on the animals. The only one missing from the barn is Sidney. Shit, she’s probably trying to round her up and get her back. The damn cow can be ornery at times. I make my way out to the pasture, and night sounds fall around me. By the time I reach the back fence, Alyson’s soft curses reach my ear.
“What are you doing?” I ask, when I spot her pushing on Sid’s ass.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” I shine my light her way, and she winces as she lifts her head. I jerk the light away, and a laugh rumbles in my throat.
“What’s so funny?” she blurts out.
“You’re wearing night-vision goggles.”
“It’s night, isn’t it?” She mumbles something about calling me clever earlier and wanting to take it back.
“Where did you find those?”
“Jack’s shed. It’s a treasure trove in there.” She grunts. “Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to help?”
I kick at the grass. “I guess I should have told you.”
“Told me what?” She gives up pushing and wipes her forehead with the back of her hand.
“Can you take those off?”
She removes the night-vision goggles. “Told me what?”
“Cowbell. She’ll follow it.”
She exhales a frustrated sigh.
“Sorry,” I say.
“Where might I find this cowbell?”
“In her barn. If you wait here, I can get it.”
She glances over her shoulder. “Did you hear that?”
