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December 5 - December 6, 2022
When life hands you lemons, hand them back. You deserve chocolate. —SIGN AT THE SUGAR SHACK
Wait. What was it? The pit of despair she’d fallen into? The black hole of melancholy to which she’d succumbed? The bottle of Patrón she’d finished off at two that morning?
“They say the first five days after the weekend are the hardest. Hang in there, cupcake.” He nudged her with his elbow.
“You know Auri is yours,” she’d said to him, sitting in the back of Quincy’s cruiser. Well, Levi was sitting, handcuffed and more than a little miffed. Sun was straddling. Not miffed in the least.
“Who did you piss off? Knitters are usually so laid back.” “Exactly,” Quince agreed, making the word sound like an accusation as he stared Doug down. “They hardly ever stab people. Statistically speaking.”
Sun let her doubt manifest into a frown. A frownier frown than she’d previously been wearing. A scowl, if you will.
She answered the call from her new lieutenant, Tricia Salazar, only to be yelled at. “He’s gone!” Odd way to start a conversation, but okay. She’d play along. “You didn’t chain him to the radiator?” “What? No. Why would I chain him to the radiator?” “The filing cabinet?” “No.” “The coffee maker?” “Is that even possible?” “Perhaps if I knew who we were talking about, I could answer that question.”
“We have to find Clay Ravinder before Levi does and put him into protective custody before Levi kills him.” Quincy’s jaw literally dropped open. After a few blinks of astonished disbelief, he said, “And you want to prevent that from happening why?” She shrugged. “Apparently that’s part of my job.” “Oh, right. The sheriff thing. Still, that’s a big ask.”
“Quince, is there something more to your dislike of Levi?” “More?” “Something you’ve never told me?” “There’s plenty I’ve never told you.” “Really? Like what?” “You put too much cilantro in your pico.” “Quince, I’m serious. You’ve never … Wait.” She had to take a step back, she was so appalled. “I have never put too much cilantro in my pico de gallo.” He snorted. “Please.” “I don’t even put cilantro in my pico de gallo.”
Carry binoculars when hiking so when you make frequent stops, it looks like you’re appreciating nature and not fighting for air. —PRO TIP FROM DEL SOL SPORTING GOODS
But Auri was worried about the woman who birthed her. She’d been depressed since Levi escaped. Like, more depressed than usual. So depressed she’d turned to her archnemesis last night: tequila. Never a good sign, so it was up to Auri to hunt Levi down and keep him from killing his uncle.
She stopped assaulting him and took a moment to appreciate what stood before her. His rich gaze sparkled with humor, and he looked much better than he had just last night. The paleness that had plagued him since the incident had disappeared to reveal the bronze skin and smooth features she’d grown so fond of. Even the peach fuzz framing his jaw looked darker, his sculpted mouth somehow fuller.
“I didn’t want to be the one to tell you this, but you’re saying it wrong.” She blinked up at him and felt her brows inch together. “I’m sorry?” He turned back to her, his expression severe if not for the slight crinkling at the corners of his eyes. “Hemogoblin.” If she didn’t know better, and she really didn’t, she’d swear he was on the verge of laughing. “That’s not a real word.” She stepped back, appalled. “It most certainly is.” “Wanna bet?” She didn’t dare. “No. But it is.” “Well, hemoglobin is a word, but I’m pretty sure it doesn’t mean what you think it does.” “Hemoglobin?” “Yes.”
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“So, I don’t have a submissive hemo-glow-bin?” He sat in the chair beside her. “I don’t think that’s a real thing.” “Why didn’t my mother tell me?” “I can’t imagine,” he said, trying to hide his nuclear smile behind a fist.
“I can’t be here. He’ll tell my mom, then my mom’ll call my grandma, and my grandma’ll tell my grandpa, and they’ll send out the National Guard and the CIA because my grandpa was in military intelligence and he has connections, and then I’ll be grounded for the rest of my natural-born life. Or all summer. Whichever ends first.”
“I may or may not have been using county gear for a trip to Mexico a few months ago, but we need it now. Official business.” “Going undercover as a submissive?” “Rappelling down the side of a mountain.” “So close,” he whispered loudly, and Auri had to suppress a giggle.
Sometimes, someone unexpected comes into your life out of nowhere, makes your heart race, and changes you forever. Those people are called cops. —SIGN AT QUINCY’S DESK
What surprised Sun most about the scene, however, was the fact that Levi’s truck was parked on the other side of the pull-off, hugging the face of the mountain as much as possible. Salazar had cordoned off his pickup as though he were a part of the first response team, and for some bizarre reason, that warmed Sun’s heart. Not that he didn’t deserve it. He’d helped with several cases. He’d saved her life. He’d earned the right to be cordoned.
Though still clearly visible, the bruise he’d received a few days prior, along with a subconjunctival hemorrhage in his left eye, was finally beginning to fade. Hopefully he’d learned a valuable lesson about trying to stop a truck with his body. Those altercations never ended well.
After another testosterone-infused moment of dick measuring, Quincy walked to the back of the cruiser to grab their climbing gear.
He pressed his mouth together as though waiting for a follow-up. She wanted nothing more than to throw in the towel and just ask him. Was he mad at her for trying to put him into protective custody? Was he upset that his own uncle was trying to kill him? Which, who wouldn’t be? Or was it simpler than that? Was he mad about being a father? Maybe he was one of those men who vowed never to have kids, and Sun had thrown a wrench into those plans. If so, sucked to be him. It took two to make a baby. He should’ve thought about that before seducing her. At least, she assumed that’s what happened. The
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If your coffee was so dark a demon mistook it for a portal to hell, you will need three things: a new mug, a mop, and an exorcism. —SIGN AT CAFFEINE-WAH
Popularity had been thrust upon him. Along with greatness. And hotness. A whole lot of hotness.
“She’s not at school today.” A-a-a-and, there it was. That spark of jealousy that occasionally managed to wriggle its way into her skull. Right beneath her submissive hemoglobin. “How do you know?”
Cruz put an arm around Auri’s shoulders, cast her a single, conspiratorial wink, and made a show of limping inside the building. She could have kissed him for saving her. Or punched him for ripping his stitches. It was a fine line.
A simple gesture, but she reveled in the fact that he’d cared enough to do it. That he’d checked her gear. That he’d caught her once when her foot slipped out from under her, his strong arm steadying her until she could get a foothold. Maybe he didn’t hate her.
Sun’s only concern had been the unidentified victim. She needed to think ahead more often. Formulate step-by-step plans of action. Shit like that. She’d put that on her to-do list as soon as she created one.
“My stitches and I have come to an arrangement.” He put the UTV in reverse and proceeded to do a rumbling three-pointer. “And what’s that?” she asked over the noise. “They don’t rip me. I don’t rip them.”
“And the wedding?” she asked, unable to keep the hope out of her voice. He smirked at her. “She has to get divorced from her criminally insane husband first.” Her shoulders deflated. “Good point. At least you’re on the right track.” “I like to think I am.”
“Me too, apparently. I want another look at the crime scene before we head back, though.” “Okay, but if I pass out from malnutrition, you’re carrying me into my house.”
Whether you like your eggs sunny-side up or in cake, you’re in the right place.
Tim stood there alone, a half smile on his face. “Hey, give me your phone.” Auri had just pulled it out to try to call her mom again. She’d left her quite a message. But it would seem the girl in the canyon was not Lynelle’s cousin after all. She should probably mention that. She frowned at Tim and pulled it against her chest. “I love this phone. Get your own.” He laughed and just held out his hand. She decided not to push the whole beaten-to-a-pulp thing and complied, handing it over when a thought hit her.
As flattering as his attention was, her heart was already taken. And it just so happened, the cabin in which the thief of hearts currently resided was on her way. After the situation with Lynelle, she needed a Cruz break, but she only had five minutes to get back to school if she was going to beat the tardy bell.
She walked closer and realized, much to her surprise, that he was asleep. He had an arm draped over one knee. The other leg stretched out over the boulder, a journal on his lap with a limp hand barely holding down the pages in the breeze. His profile struck her yet again. The perfect lines. The well-proportioned dimensions. His hair ruffled in the breeze and his lashes created shadows across his cheeks.
“Hey, pumpkin,” her grandfather said when she burst into the house. He went back to pouring his coffee. “Aren’t you supposed to be at—” She tackle-hugged him before he could finish his statement. “Oh. All right, then.” He sat the coffeepot and his cup down and wrapped her in his arms, his embrace warm and soothing. Just what she needed, because she had been where Cruz was now. She had been in that dark place. And she knew exactly what came next.
“Yes. No fraternizing with criminals.” She wagged a finger at him in warning. He looked over his shoulder as Levi closed his door. “I guess this is the end of our bromance, dude.”
He released a melodramatic sigh, then pleaded with her. “Fine. Just let me arrest him a little.” She felt her mouth crinkle at the corners and turned away to hide that fact. “How do you arrest someone a little?” “You know. Throw him against the cruiser, rough him up a bit, and call it a day. Bam, bitch,” he said, throwing signs.
“I turned and told them you weren’t weird. That you just had demanding taste buds.”
Dropping her arms, she said, “Not at all. It’s just a question. But you might want to remember something before you make a mistake you can’t come back from.” “And what would that be?” She took her turn and leaned into him, lowering her voice as she said, “You should never wound what you can’t kill.”
If you like your whiskey like you like your men, twice your age and from Scotland, we’ve got you covered.
“We might want to reconsider our crushes.” “What do you mean?” he asked as he followed her to the cruiser. She got in and waited for him to shut his door before continuing. “We’re both in love with Ravinders.” “And?” “And Ravinders come with all kinds of baggage. Namely their extended family.”
Sun stilled at the thought of Doug flashing her daughter. She would kill him. A plethora of charges ran through her mind—indecent exposure, public nuisance, assault with a limp noodle.
“Look, Doug is sitting in urgent care with a knitting needle sticking out of his neck. Or at least he was a few hours ago. He said a gang attacked him.” “A gang of knitters?” Darlene asked. “Right?” Feeling strangely vindicated for the shade she’d thrown Doug, Sun nodded in agreement at her mother’s oldest and dearest.
“I still think it should be about a group of older women who go around killing murderers and rapists and people who talk in theaters, and the hot FBI agent who hunts them down. One-by-one. And arrests them. With handcuffs.”
“Were you really a scout?” “No, but I went steady with one in the third grade.” “Well, all right then.”
But first, she opened her office door and threw a muffin at her chief deputy, nailing him on the back of the head. He spun around in his chair and gaped at her. “That could’ve been a grenade,” she said, shaking her head at him. He ended his call and stood to follow her out. “Why would someone throw a grenade inside the station?” “No idea, but you have to stay vigilant and alert at all times. If that had been a real grenade, we would never make it to Tía Juana’s in time for fresh sopas.”
If you like to sit by the window and people watch, stop it. It scares the families inside and you will be arrested. —PSA FROM THE DEL SOL COUNTY SHERIFF
Instead of an update or an explanation as to why Auri had been crying earlier, her mother simply texted her back with Call your daughter. Which, duh. Sun already knew that. She just wanted a heads-up as to what was going on underneath that submissive hemogoblin of hers. Auri had a way of catching her off guard.
“Hey, bug. Whatcha doing?” “Reflecting on how badly I want to be Beth Dutton when I grow up.” “Beth Dutton? I thought Lisbeth Salander was your hero.” “Oh, she is. But Beth is my kindred spirit. I’m thinking about combining the two of them, sprinkling in a little Ellen Ripley, and morphing into a badass. But I need more real-world experience if I’m going to rise to Beth’s level of quick comebacks. I wonder if there’s a class I could take.” “Perhaps, but for now I think we should hold off on some of her more colorful phrases until you’re older.”
“Wait a minute. How spicy are these books?” “If they were green chile, they would’ve been harvested during a drought.” The drier the season, the hotter the chile.
