Authors: Amy Vansant
Tags: #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Mystery, #Cozy, #Literature & Fiction, #Women's Fiction, #Humor
Maybe Mariska’s hug therapy is working after all…
“I want you to go to dinner with me,” he said, looking into her eyes.
“I think I can do that.”
He leaned down and kissed her on the lips.
“I missed you,” he whispered in her ear, his rough cheek brushing hers.
She led his mouth back to hers and kissed him again.
“I missed you, too. You didn’t call back…”
“I know. It wasn’t that I wasn’t thinking about you. I was in a weird place. I wasn’t sure I was ready…but seeing you here now…I can’t think of anything I want more.”
He gave her a peck on the forehead and then straightened, putting one arm around her shoulders.
“Which brings me to thing number two,” he announced, waving his hand toward the corner of the store. “
Voilà
!”
She looked, finding only more furniture and knick-knacks.
“What?”
“See this corner? This is proof I’ve been thinking of you. This is all for you. I mean, if you want it. I busied myself decorating your house…without your house.”
“Really?” Charlotte said, scanning over the sofa set, tables and lamps.
“It’s totally up to you. I’m not pushing it on you. It just made me happy.”
“You could have just called…”
“I suppose. This seemed easier at the time.”
Charlotte smiled. “Thank you. I was actually going to ask you to help me pick out a few things. You have good taste…I mean, Abby will
love
sleeping on that sofa. I’ll pay you for it all though.”
She walked into the diorama of her living room.
“Except this lamp,” she added. “Not a fan of the lamp.”
“Yeah…I was on the fence with that myself. Good call.”
“And seriously, let me pay for it.”
“No, really, it’s no big deal. Anyway, you’ve already done enough for me.”
“What have I done to deserve a room’s worth of furnishing? It’s like I won a game show.”
“You broke into Harry’s house to prove what he did.”
Charlotte closed her eyes and shook her head. “Try not to say that in public.”
“It was
that
important to you to find my mother’s killer. You did that for me.”
“It was important. It kept me up at night. But it wasn’t totally selfless,” said Charlotte. “Not totally for you.”
“What do you mean?”
She crossed her arms across her chest and took a deep breath.
“Before this all started, I felt lost. I didn’t have…I dunno…a
calling
. I always thought my purpose would come to me, but as year after year went by, I had less faith.”
“And now?”
“I want to keep trying to help people. I think I want to be some sort of private eye. Maybe your uncle could tutor me?”
Declan laughed. “Tutor you in what? Bad jokes?”
“Bad-assery. Detective stuff.”
“The next time something interesting happens in Pineapple Port, you’ll probably be fifty.”
“That’s true.” Charlotte shrugged. “I’m still ironing out the details.”
“Sheriff Charlotte,” said Declan.
“I was thinking more like Charlotte’s House of Snoopery,” she said.
“That’s terrible.”
“I know, isn’t it? But it’s kind of cute. It would look good on a t-shirt.”
Declan looked as if he was trying not to laugh.
“You’d better not be laughing at me!” she said, slapping his chest.
Bouncy.
No. Bad Charlotte! Focus…
“I’m serious!” she added. “This stuff made me feel
alive
.”
“I’m not laughing at you. I’m just remembering…I think I know one reason why you felt so
alive
.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Remember when we were in your kitchen?”
Charlotte blushed so hard she thought her eyebrows would burst into flames.
Oh no. Here it comes.
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. I don’t know what got into me—”
“I do,” he said. “You were on ecstasy.”
Charlotte laughed.
“Very funny.”
“No, seriously. The pills you took. The ones Al left on your counter?”
“The aspirin?”
“Not aspirin. X. Al told Seamus he left ecstasy at your house.”
“
Al?
Seventy-something, five-foot-nothing, Al?”
Declan nodded. “Apparently, there’s some kind of underground club in Pineapple Port where the old folks get crazy…”
Charlotte couldn’t find a way to close her gaping mouth. She remembered the feel of fabric between her fingertips. The gorgeous roughness of the cement around the pool…
“So you’re saying
that’s
why I felt so—”
Declan smiled. “Well, I like to think I had
something
to do with it.”
Charlotte scoffed and turned to hide her smirk.
“Hey…if you’re going to be like that I won’t tell you what the divot above your lip is called.”
“Oh!” she said, turning. “I forgot to look that up! What is it?”
“A philtrum.”
“Ew. That’s not a very pretty word. Philtrum.”
“Well, it has another name.”
“What?”
He walked towards her and tapped her philtrum with his finger.
“Cupid’s bow.”
As he said the words, he leaned in to kiss her again. She reached up and pulled him closer to her.
When their lips parted, he smirked.
“I’m going to admit it. That was a little corny,” he said. “I mean, it
is
called Cupid’s bow, but still…corny. It sounded cooler when I planned it.”
She nodded. “I wasn’t going to say anything but…yeah. Not as corny as admitting you planned it but…”
They grinned. She hugged him and looked over her new furniture as he held her in his arms.
Decorating the house is going to be
fun
.
THE END
Look for the next Pineapple Port novel coming winter 2015!
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Amy has been writing and finding other creative ways to make no money since high school.
She specializes in fun, comedic reads about accident prone, easily distracted women with questionable taste in men.
So, autobiographies, mostly.
Amy is the former East Coast Editor of
SURFER Magazine
but the urge to drive up and down the coast interviewing surfers has long since left her. Currently, she is a nerd and Labradoodle mommy who works at home with her goofy husband.
She
has
rocked water aerobics at a fifty-five and over community, but has yet to play bingo. She’s heard it’s vicious.
Slightly Stalky
(romantic comedy)
Angeli
(funny/dark urban fantasy adventure)
Moms are Nuts
(editor: humor anthology)
The Surfer’s Guide to Florida
(non-fiction: out of print)