Page 35 of Man Cuffed
Another benefit of making calzones is that they bake on the grill, so I won’t have to turn the oven on. It’s another scorcher today. The humidity is about 99%, too. That’s what you get for living thirty miles from Lake Michigan.
I give the dough one more punch. For luck. And then I shape it into a ball. I dust it with flour one more time, and then set it to rest in a lightly greased mixing bowl, with a damp cloth on top. Just like my granny taught me.
While I wait for the yeast to do its thing, I locate my pizza stone and carry it out to the grill. I lift the top of the grill and set the pizza stone inside, so I won’t forget to preheat it later. A hot stone is how you get a nice crispy crust.
I’m just standing here thinking happy thoughts about Italian food when, out of nowhere, a shrill scream splits the air. And it’s not just any scream. It’s a sound that curdles blood, and it’s coming from right next door.
Jesus Christ. I don’t hesitate. I leap onto the overturned flower pot, brace a hand on top of the fence and vault right over.
Luckily, my neighbor has no furniture to trip on, so I land easily on the other side. Two seconds later I’m opening her kitchen door and checking the area for intruders.
I see nobody. Where the hell is the perp?
“Meg?” I call.
“Hot Cop?” Her voice comes from the bedroom. It doesn’t sound strained. But maybe the perp is holding a gun on her and…
I ease toward the bedroom and then glance carefully around the door frame. My heart is in my throat, wondering what I’m gonna find.
But what I see does not match the terrors in my head. She’s sitting cross-legged in the center of her carefully made-up bed, a laptop open in front of her.
“Jesus,” I gasp. “Did you hear that scream? It wasn’t you?” I step into the room.
“Why, Mac. How nice to see you! And how unexpected. Did you knock and I missed it?” She gives me a big happy smile.
Meanwhile, my heart rate is still 60 miles per hour above the legal limit. “You screamed,” I insist. “Why?”
“Did I? I suppose I might have. I just received the best email.”
“And email makes you scream like you’re being flayed by the devil himself?”
“Well, actors, you know.” She’s shrugs as if to saywhat can you do?“We’re dramatic.”
Jesus Christ. “I just got an entire year older. But hey, as long as you got an email, it’s all good.”
“It wasn’tjustan email.” She slides off the bed and stands up. “It was a great email. I’m in the mood to celebrate.”
She takes a step closer to me and then does something dangerous. She steps into my personal space and hugs me. Like a real hug, with long arms wrapping around me and a tight body pressing against mine.
And then the vixen kisses me right on the jaw.
“Urrrumph,” I grunt as my limbic system struggles to handle the sensory overload. I flash hot everywhere, and my heart is still pounding, although now for a different reason.
“Meg,” I rasp, taking a step backward. “What is going on?”
“I’ll tell you over lunch.”
“Lunch?”
“Didn’t I just say I’m in the mood to celebrate? Besides, you owe me a favor.”
“Another favor?” When I named her Trouble, I knew what I was doing. “How do you figure?” Maybe Meg isn’t good at math. “We’re square. I helped you with your tire.”
“The tire was in trade for the cup of sugar.” She puts a hand on her hip and smiles. “And I’m still going to your sister’s wedding.”
“Right. Sure. But the wedding date is in trade for breaking into my apartment.”
“Oh, I remember, and you gave me some bluster over how you could have had me arrested.” She rolls her eyes.
