Page 68 of Work It Out
“I already know who our partners are,” Samuel muttered.
Jake stared at the place where she’d disappeared. “When did she get so bossy?”
Samuel’s frown cranked another notch toward furious. “It’s rude to call people names. And she isn’t bossy.” He slid into his car and shut the door with a bang.
“What the hell just happened?” When the car cranked over and the reverse lights flashed on, Jake hauled ass toward the church. He had the strangest feeling that, if he didn’t move fast enough, Samuel would use him for a speed bump.
Chapter Twenty-Three
November 7
Bigbone Community Facebook Group
“I’ll be present and on-duty at the lottery this evening as well as at the Hunt tomorrow. Let’s not have a repeat of last year, people. I was stuck filling out arrest paperwork for days.”
- Chief of Police, Ester McCoy
Rayah planned on hiding in a back corner of the sanctuary while she waited for Jake. She should’ve known better by now. No one could hide in Bigbone even that long.
A wolf whistle sounded from her right, followed by, “Look at you.” She would’ve fired up what Jake so kindly referred to as her active bitch face, except she recognized that impossibly deep voice. Blaine lounged across one of the back pews. At least, he looked like he was lounging. More likely he hadn’t been able to cram his legs into the space without turning sideways.
Since she had no such problem, she shoved his foot out of the way and sat. “I know I look ridiculous. No need to rub it in.”
He shook his head. His hair was down, a rarity, and that hair toss looked like something out of a shampoo commercial. Not fair. She’d let Vicky at her hair for over an hour, and it still didn’t look that good. She’d be surprised if he’d used so much as a blow-dryer.
Blaine sat up straighter. “Don’t go putting words in my mouth. I was trying to give you a compliment without getting your back up. But since you want to be dense, I’ll say it straight out. I always knew you were beautiful, but beautiful doesn’t cover it tonight. You look stunning.”
Jake’s plate nearly slid from her fingers. Blaine didn’t say things like that. Ever. Strangely enough, it didn’t make her uncomfortable. He didn’t say it like he was trying to get in her pants, and he wasn’t blowing smoke. This was her best friend telling her she looked nice. “I—” She sipped her lemonade, hoping to hide her embarrassment, then tried again. “Thank you.”
Blaine grinned and plucked a chip off Jake’s plate. As he popped it in his mouth and chomped down, she shot him a glare and moved the plate out of reach, or as close to out of reach as possible when he had ridiculously long arms and she had T. rex stubs.
He chuckled. “Stingy. I say something nice, and you can’t even let me steal a chip?”
“They aren’t mine.”
Understanding flashed across his face. She watched him fight the urge to spit the chip out, but that juvenile reaction didn’t last. “I should’ve known. You don’t eat chips, but then you don’t usually let clients eat them, either.” He knocked his knee against hers. “Don’t tell me you’re going soft on baby Thor.”
She shrugged. “It’s a special occasion.”
She jumped when Zandar tapped his cupped palm against the microphone in a deafeningwhomp, whomp. “Testing. Testing.”
“Good God, man,” Doc shouted, hands clamped over his ears.
“You keep abusing my equipment, you’ll never touch it again,” Glen snapped at the same time.
“That’s what she said,” Rayah whispered.
Blaine busted out laughing, causing nearly everyone for two rows to turn around. She elbowed him in the stomach.
“Sorry,” he yelled. But when he looked at her, his eyes danced conspiratorially.
A pang hit her chest. “I missed you.” She hadn’t meant to whisper that confession, but she was glad she had when he slung his arm over her shoulders and squeezed the stuffing out of her in a half hug.
“Missed you, too, Ray-Ray. Sorry for being an ass.”
She couldn’t speak past the lump in her throat. Luckily, Zandar, satisfied that the audio system was functioning, addressed the crowd. “Welcome to the lottery of the Sixty-Sixth Annual Poisonous Spiny Hunt. Now, for those of you who are new to town—as well as the old farts with the bad memories—this,” he clicked the remote for a PowerPoint presentation, “is an artist’s rendering of my babies.”
They’d definitely had the image redone since Grace took over. An elaborate drawing filled the screen on the left side of the stage. Rayah squinted. She’d never seen anything like it. If a porcupine had a baby with a wild boar, it still wouldn’t be that ugly. But, the longer she looked at it, the more she decided it was one of those rare creatures that was so ugly it was cute, like pugs or newborn babies before all the goop is wiped off and the wrinkles work themselves out.
