Page 11 of Always Murder

And enthusiastic.

And energetic.

Oh, and stamina.Did I mention Bobby does leg days?

His hand stroked my flank, moved upward, following my belly, then chafing lightly at my ribcage.

I fought the bone-melting happiness that was telling me to lie there and be a puddle of goo, because this—the energy I could feel behind his restless touching—meant Bobby wanted to talk about something.

Then I remembered.

“You’re going to be a detective.”

His hand stilled on my side.He left it there, solid and warm.Then his thumb moved again, scratching pleasantly across my ribs.“I don’t know.Maybe.”

“I think that would be great.”

His “Yeah?”was warier than I anticipated.

“Yeah, of course.”I did some squirming-twisting-rolling to face him.“Bobby, you’re such a good deputy.You’re smart.You’re hardworking.You’re good with people.”I nuzzled into him.“You’re amazing.You’ll make a fantastic detective.Oh my God, Bobby, you could tell me all the stuff detectivesreallydo—I’d have an inside source!”

He did a funny laugh.“I’d have to apply.”

“You haven’t applied?”When he didn’t say anything, I asked, “Why not?”

“I don’t know.I wanted to talk to you first.”

And maybe that was true.Maybe.In fact, it probably was, because Bobby Mai wasn’t a liar.

But it wasn’t thewholetruth.

He started to speak again, stopped, and then said, “I’ve got to work a double tomorrow.”

Fighting the urge to ask,Again?,somehow I managed to nod.

“It won’t be like this forever,” Bobby said.

“I know.”

“It’s going to get better.”

“I know.”

He hitched me closer.“I love you.”

“I know.”

When he pinched me, I squealed.

“I love you too,” I said, somewhere between outrage and laughter.

And then everything felt all right again, and we slept.

Chapter 4

The next morning, Millie drove me to Clatsop Parcel and Freight in her Mazda3.

It was not what I expected.

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