Page 7 of Full Body Check

“Ugh, thank you, Nik. Guess I have to now.” Gracelyn rolls her eyes. “So, yeah… my mother hand-delivers a homemade fruitcake to every officer, every shift, every Christmas, and in return, they… don’t ask her to stop calling them for a few months. Buys her until at least March before they start giving her ‘the talk’ again.”

Precious. Not a word I think often, or ever really, but it’s the one that keeps echoing in my head as I study Gracelyn; and it’s definitely fitting. I haven’t got a single clue how, why, or what the hell’s going on with me, but I am uncontrollably drawn to this woman; each new thing she says or does more intriguing than the last. And accordingly, my captivation having well surpassed logic, I simply stare, wearing a perhaps permanent smile, as Nikki and Lance both double over with laughter.

“Yeah, yeah, very funny, my mom’s crazy. Laugh it up, but just remember, I warned you… that crazy will come in real handy should either of you guys decide to dismember, murder, and or hurt either of us in any way. My mother will track you down like a bloodhound on crack and make whatever you did to us seem sweet in comparison to what she does to you. So, Mr. Fox, can I trust you to keep my friend far from any harm tonight?”

And that’s the ball game… I’m completely screwed, because nothing that anyone says, ever again, has a chance in hell of keeping me even half as entertained as Gracelyn does… without even trying. Which means, the pressure’s on — if I don’t woo her off her feet, ensuring that she neverstops talking, tome, I’m facing a life left to be tolerated, spent in black and white mundanity.

While I ponder my future, Lance and Nikki stand, frozen, wearing identical, dumbfounded expressions. I on the other hand, have passed the point of restraint, moving fast to take her beautiful, intelligent, spunky little self by the hand. Small. Soft. A perfect, feminine fit in mine.

I was half expecting to feel sparks, an actual, physical phenomenon, to go right along with this whole extraordinary trance I seem to be in; but I don’t. No “ah ha” shot of electricity. No tale-worthy jolt. It just feels… right.

“Lance is a really good guy, harmless,” I whisper reassurance in her ear. “You have my word.”

She tilts her head to peer up at me, her plump, begging-to-be-kissed lips curling in taunt. “And what about you, Brewer Hayes? Are you harmless?”

I lean in so our noses are brushing as our gazes lock. “I’d say yes, but I aim to please… and you’re hoping that I say no.”

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