Page 42 of Fast Currents
A fresh start. With the only woman who could make housecleaning feel romantic.
Lucy was softening. I could feel it. Maybe she wasn’t ready for everything I wanted to offer, but as each piece of armor dropped away, revealing more of the soft woman beneath, my resolve deepened. Every glimpse made me want to be the man she deserved.
Chores finished, I hit the shower and made myself a turkey sandwich, devouring it at the sink in five big bites.
It wasn’t until the last mouthful that reality crept back in.
The gallery case.
In the haze of making love to Lucy, I’d nearly forgotten. It was hard to tell if our discovery held any real significance. Butsomething about it nagged at me. I couldn’t ignore the potential link to Jordan Dawkins.
Calling my friend with the DEA might be overkill, but Nick Harris had come through for us before.
He picked up on the first ring. “Ranger Robertson. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Agent Harris. Are you still on the lookout for tips about smuggling through the San Juans?” I asked.
“Always.”
“It may be nothing, but I’ve got something for you.”
I briefed Agent Harris on the case and its possible significance. He was quick to point out that it could be nothing more than art equipment but promised to look into any ties between Chaz Underwood and Jordan Dawkins.
“If you want an opportunity to check him out in person and support the National Parks, we’re having an art benefit on Halloween.”
“Do you think I could come as a DEA agent?”
“Maybe 007.”
“Close enough. I’ll keep it in mind. Thanks for the tip, Robertson.”
“Any time.”
All the talk of the gallery made me want to dig deeper. Especially on the mysterious A.A. It was hard to imagine a painter with that much local prominence managing to stay anonymous. They must buy supplies. Canvases, paint, that kind of thing. Someone had to know who the artist was.
I spent the next hour digging through the gallery blog and announcements, searching for A.A.’s first showing, or a more complete bio for the artist. Then I searched other art blogs and publications. A.A.’s influence seemed strong only on San Juan Island. Our distance from Seattle and Bellevue’s wealthiersuburbs didn’t explain how an artist with such a prolific footprint would have no mentions there.
The more I researched, the less I learned, making me feel better about tagging Agent Harris into the conversation. Something fishy was going on at the gallery.
I went for a run with Lee and Zach and managed a few loads of laundry before dinner rolled around. Maybe it was presumptuous, but I threw a bag for Lucy’s in my truck and hit up the market for a few boxes of local chocolates before driving to Violet’s house.
While I was pretty sure Violet, Anya, and Rae already approved of me, chocolate couldn’t hurt.
Before, I’d just been the guy flirting with their friend. Now we were a couple. And getting her crew on my side—before I inevitably did something stupid and Lucy roasted me in the group chat—felt like a solid investment.
Wooing her friends with big boyfriend energy might buy me some grace later. Plus, watching Lucy squirm as I laid it on thick? Satisfying as hell. Showering her with affection was half the fun—claiming her without needing to say a word.
Violet Fenwick still shared a small house with Anya at the top of the hill near the moped rental shop, though Anya had started boxing things up for her move. In the evenings, there were no bright red scooters zipping up her road. The promised atmospheric river had moved in, sending sheets of heavy rain blasting my windshield. I parked next to Drew’s truck and ran for the back door with the chocolates clutched under one arm.
Lucy looked up with a smile for me from her spot on the couch. Her inky black hair was drawn away from her cheeks in two low pigtails. She’d changed out of last night’s clothes and looked cozy in an oversized flannel and jeans.
After our night together, I had a fresh perspective on why she chose all black. The high necklines. The layers. A shadow of her ex still lingered in the background, shaping her choices.
I swallowed down the anger that flared – aimed at a man I’d never met and never would. His bad decisions led her to me. And I’d gladly cherish every inch of her for the rest of my life.
“Hey.” I closed the distance between us in a few strides, dropping onto the couch next to her.
“Is that all for me?” she asked, eyes wide as she noticed the pink boxes in my lap.
