Page 1 of Heart Me Up
Chapter1
Foster
“Foster,I need you to go on a blind date with Helen Plimstone’s grandson.”
My Great Aunt Charlotte had a sixth sense for when I was available to talk, and usually I loved hearing from her. She’s my favorite relative. Hell, she and my Great Uncle Baxter raised me after my parents died when I was sixteen.
But every once in a while, I deeply regretted picking up the phone when she called.
“I thought you and Helen were feuding again. Didn't she get her way in your committee meeting or something?” Aunt Charlotte had been rivals with Helen for decades. I didn’t know what had started it, but at this point I wouldn’t put it past Charlotte to leave some type offuck youbequest for Helen in her will.And to my dear, dear friend Helen Plimstone, I leave this gift certificate for baking lessons, since your cakes have always been a little dry.
“Foster, listen to me, this is more important than a committee meeting,” Aunt Charlotte said urgently.
My eyebrows went up. Aunt Charlotte was passionate about her church’s outreach and inclusivity committee. She was so protective of it she’d had a three-day conniption fit several years ago when Helen had also joined the committee.
“Wow, okay. I’m listening.” I had to remind myself to concentrate on my driving. I was halfway home after a long day at work.
“Helen’s grandson recently moved to Austin. She wants him to meet people, so she asked me if I would set you up with him.”
“I don’t—”
“Foster, you’re not listening to me. Helen asked me for afavor. She’s going tooweme.”
I hesitated, trying to delay the inevitable.
Charlotte’s voice changed, now cajoling. “I’ll make you a pie a week for a month.” Fuck, Charlotte made the best pies.
I sighed as I turned onto my street. “Fine. I can meet him for a drink on Thursday. One hour. No promises for anything more.”
“Oh, thank you, Foster. I knew I could count on you.”
* * *
An hour later I was clean, dressed comfortably, and in my kitchen prepping snacks. Carlos Ochoa and Artie Callahan, two of the other detectives in the Bent Oak PD, had just arrived.
“Crap, Artie,” I exclaimed. “How’d you get that sunburn?”
Artie gingerly touched his red forehead. It almost clashed with his orangey hair. “I forgot to put on sunscreen and we had to canvas for witnesses in a three-block radius of our scene.”
I winced. “Did you put some aloe on it?”
“Not yet,” Carlos said. He set the grocery bag he’d carried inside on the counter. “We stopped and got him some.” He pulled out a tub of green goo and tossed it to Artie, who immediately headed for the half-bath off my kitchen.
“Maybe he needs to keep a hat in the car,” I suggested. “One of those sun-proof ones.”
Carlos grimaced. “Yeah. I'll see if I can find him a not-too-ugly one. Though it’s not like it would clash with the rest of his fashion choices. I want to burn those pants he’s got on.”
I snorted as I put the beer Carlos had brought in the fridge. My partner Amy liked to call Carlos and Artie “yin and yang”. They were certainly physical opposites. Carlos was in his late thirties, same as me. He was on the short side but muscular, always sporting a sharp haircut and wearing clothes designed to fit him very, very well. Artie was the youngest detective on the force at twenty-nine. He was tall and skinny, and Carlos complained often about Artie dressing like he bought the first thing he saw when he walked in a store.
Artie returned from the bathroom, his skin shiny with aloe. He also sported a couple of green spots on the front of his shirt.
Before Carlos could bitch about the stains, I said, “Artie, do you want some ibuprofen or something?”
“Nah,” he said, sitting on one of the barstools at my kitchen counter. “A beer should take my pain away.”
Carlos handed him one, and my foster cat Mariposa jumped up on the counter to be petted. She knew Artie was good for some scritches. Officially, Mariposa wasn’t allowed on the counter. Realistically, I’d pretty much stopped trying to enforce any rules and she did whatever she wanted.
Mariposa’s owner, my best friend Malcolm, was on an undercover assignment with the FBI. When he left, he was only supposed to be gone a couple of months at most. We were on month four now.
