Page 82 of Heartbeats & Highways

They exchanged a look. “No, you are,” Roman said. “But you took the day off yesterday.”

“I did.”

“Because you were crying,” Virgil added. “Homer told us.”

“Iwascrying, yes. But I’m better now,” I assured him. “Did Homer tell youwhyI was crying?”

“Yep. I guess double congratulations are in order.” Roman said as he began to smile.

“Yeah, it would seem so.”

“You should’ve seen Homer when he got here and told us.” Virgil laughed. “The man hates emotion. He looked like he was going to puke.”

“Then he’d have been in good company,” I joked. “That’s all I seem to do nowadays. Where is Homer anyway?”

Roman rubbed the back of his neck. Virgil smirked.

“What? Did I scare him off with my hormonal tears?”

“No. His absence has nothing to do with you actually,” Roman said. “He—ah might’ve . . .”

“Might’ve what?”

“Found out that Jazz didn’t cancel her date last night,” Virgil said. “So, he showed up and crashed the party.”

“That’s wild, but it still doesn’t explain why Homer’s not here now.”

“He’s . . .occupiedat the moment,” Roman said.

I frowned. “Okay?”

“He’s screwing Jazz’s brains out,” Virgil said baldly. “They’ve been dancing around each other for years and last night it all finally came together.”

My cheeks heated with embarrassment. “Oh. Well. As long as they’re happy.”

“Happy is not a word I’d associate with Homer. But if anyone has a chance of making him a few notches above surly, it’s Jazz,” Virgil explained.

“Do we expect him in today at all?” I asked.

“Doubtful,” Roman said.

“So I should cancel and reschedule his appointments,” I stated.

“Yep,” Virgil said. “Good luck with that.”

“Why do I need luck?”

“Because he’s got himself a fan club . . .” Roman looked at Virgil.

“Yeah, there’s a beautiful woman who aggressively flirts with Homer every time she’s in his chair. She’s not going to be happy that she has to reschedule.”

“Well, I’m not scared of her,” I said, marching around them to get behind the counter. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I better get to work.”

The door to Three Kings opened and a tall, very pregnant blonde strode in carrying a few canvas totes full of clothes. She looked at me.

“Hi. How can I help you today?” I asked pleasantly.

“You’re Evie.”

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