Nina Wright - Whiskey Mattimoe 06 - Whiskey and Soda by Nina Wright Read Free Book Online Page B

cake” was guy code for what Roscoe was doing. Brady led the German shepherd, still walking on two legs, back to the squad car.

8
    Jeb wanted Sandra Bullock to share our bed, but I wouldn’t hear of it. While my preference was to leave her on the porch, Jeb insisted she was an indoor dog who required comfort. We compromised. She would spend the night in Abra’s room. The Affie wouldn’t need it tonight. Better yet, the door boasted a double lock, and I had no plans to share the key. Although Abra could escape that space, such a feat required physical skills I was sure no French bulldog possessed.
    As he laid Sandra down, I saw tenderness in Jeb’s face that should have been reserved for our first child. Sure, he had always been nice to animals, but I’d never known him to be a “dog person.” Why start now? Once we were out in the hall, I tested the latch with more force than necessary.
    “Easy, baby,” Jeb whispered.
    “Since when do you rescue dogs?” I demanded.
    Belatedly he folded me against him the way I had wanted him to do outside. Only now I was too annoyed to melt at his touch. I softened a little…okay, a lot. But it took a minute. He did smell wonderful, and he did remember how to hold me. I inhaled the faintly woodsy fragrance that was uniquely Jeb and tried to pretend there were no dogs in the world, let alone in my house. He tenderly kissed my hair, then my forehead, my eyes, my cheeks, and finally my mouth. We were linked again, at last. I had almost fallen all the way into the moment when he paused to answer my question.
    “You can’t expect me to make a living crooning for canines and not care about them, can you?”
    I had to think about that one.
    “Jeb, caring about your job is one thing. Bringing it home is something else altogether.”
    He sighed and pulled me closer.
    “I’m sorry, babe. But I had to save Sandra. I nearly ran her over.”
    I groaned. “Please don’t tell me this is about karma.”
    “Isn’t everything about karma?”
    “In Magnet Springs, yes, which is why I’m proud to live in denial.”
    It galled me that we were wasting precious moments talking when we should have been kissing and cuddling. Talking about dogs and karma was completely unacceptable.
    “We can talk later,” I said, pulling Jeb toward my bedroom. “Though not about this. Never about this. Tonight we are done talking. Tonight we—”
    Jeb took his cue, turning my unfinished sentence into a long sweet kiss, which quickly gave way to groping and other good things. Moments later we were two warm nonverbal bodies pressed together under my quilt. Connection complete.
    The real world intruded far too early, poisoning my dreams. I was riding Blitzen along the Rail Trail, alone, when I spotted Jeb riding toward me on a shiny blue bicycle. He wore yellow and white Spandex, exactly like the headmaster. Only Jeb looked goofy in Spandex, and he knew it. He was making a silly face.
    I laughed out loud as I waved at him.
    Without warning, Jeb did exactly what the headmaster had done. He raised his hands as if to wave back and toppled off his bicycle, an arrow protruding from his back.
    My laughter morphed into a scream, but it was so hard to make sound come out. The louder I tried to scream, the less noise I could make. Jeb shook me awake.
    “Babe. Wake up. You’re having a bad dream.”
    I was so relieved to find him in my bed next to me, wearing neither Spandex nor an arrow, that I didn’t half mind when the phone rang minutes later. Jeb passed it to me.
    “Abra’s at it again,” our tireless police chief began. “I got a report last night of a missing poodle, a champion, very valuable. A family member saw him run off with a long-haired goat. This morning two folks saw a goat and a poodle in Vanderzee Park, doing what animals from two different species aren’t meant to do.”
    “Maybe it really is a goat,” I mumbled. “A kinky goat.”
    “Name one goat in Lanagan County,” Jenx