“Let’s maybe keep it down about the whole ‘narrowly avoiding death’ thing,” Riley suggested. She wanted Nick to trust her in the field, and kicking off her debut performance by confronting a crazed, drunken maniac with a rifle wasn’t exactly the A-plus she’d been going for.
“Are you asking me to keep something from my business partner?” Mrs. Penny demanded, looking stern behind her thick glasses.
“You always keep things from Nick,” Riley pointed out.
“Only for dramatic flair purposes. It’s all about timing, see?”
Riley wasn’t given any time to see anything because Mrs. Penny was already shoving her way into the house. Burt and the other two dogs, still yapping, raced inside after her. Mr. Willicott wandered off into the backyard.
“Crap,” Riley muttered.
“Come on. Let’s get this over with,” Josie said, nudging her toward the door.
“Why do I have to go first?” Riley hedged.
“I’m pregnant.”
“Come on, you big babies. I’ll protect you from Scary Nick,” Jasmine said, leading the way.
Mrs. Penny perchedon a barstool and rained french fries on the floor while she recounted their afternoon to Nick, who listened with eyes closed and fingers massaging his temples. Lily was relaxing in a kitchen chair and thumbing through an ancient recipe book. Fred, dressed in incredibly inappropriate yoga attire, was sitting cross-legged on the table, listening with rapt attention.
“Remind me to disinfect the table,” Riley said to no one in particular.
“So then the guy’s pointing this old-ass rifle at Burt, and Riley’s all ‘Don’t shoot my dog’ and running at him,” Mrs. Penny continued as the dogs slurped up her floor fries.
Nick’s eyes came open and pinned Riley with “the look.”
“Uh-oh,” Josie muttered and shuffled away from the death glare.
“So I run up behind him like one of those superfast ninjas, and I bonk him on the head with a club I stole off his wall,” Mrs. Penny said.
“Thorn,” Nick said, his voice deadly calm as the dachshund scrabbled her little paws at his legs.
“Um. Yes. Present,” Riley said, trying to look both alive and competent.
“He’s gonna blow like my elementary school science fair volcano,” Josie said in a stage whisper.
The kitchen door swung open, and Griffin trotted inside, holding a plate with a sandwich on it. Gabe was behind him.
“Excuse me,” Griffin sang. “I believe I ordered my sandwich with truffle mayonnaise. This tastes like regular mayonnaise.”
Nick was still staring at Riley, his left eye twitching.
“This ain’t no diner, bub,” Mrs. Penny said to Griffin. “You want truffle mayo, you gotta cough up the cash for it.”
Griffin sighed and pulled out his money clip. “Fine. How much does mayonnaise cost? Forty dollars?”
Mrs. Penny snatched the twenties out of his hand and pocketed them. “Who wants to go on a grocery store run?”
“I’ll go,” Lily volunteered. “That cutie with the booty stocks shelves on Saturdays.”
Gabe’s hand shot into the air. “I would very much like to attend the grocery store outing and leave Mr. Gentry’s personal security to someone else.”
Riley sensed a teensy bit of desperation coming from her spiritual adviser. She couldn’t blame him. Griffin was hard to take in even the smallest doses.
“Not it,” Josie said, putting her finger on her nose.
“I’ll take over,” Riley volunteered.