his head. “I took an early lunch break. Knowing you’d be meeting some of the neighbors, I thought I should check on you.”
Hmm. I narrowed my eyes. “You said they were all good people.”
“They are.” He grinned. “They can just be a bit much if you’re not used to them, and I’m the one responsible for you being here. Come on, I’ll pick up Anna and take you both for lunch.”
At the mention of more food I only just restrained a groan. “I’ve been eating all morning—I couldn’t fit another thing in.”
Another grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Met Valentina then?”
Met her? I had a feeling she was my new best friend. “Yes, and Beverley.”
“Then, if not food, you need a break. Get in.”
It did sound good—and he was by far the sanest person I’d met all morning. Strange, yesterday I was calling him batty. Apparently, it all depends on your frame of reference. I got in and waited while he picked up Anna and buckled her into her car seat.
“Your mother didn’t want to join us?” I asked, trying to distract myself from the way the muscles on his forearms flexed as he tightened the strap.
“No, she said she could do with some time out.” He slid into the driver’s seat. “She appreciates a breather now and then to read. Anna’s a good kid,” he flashed her a smile in the mirror, “but it’s still hard to concentrate with a four-year-old around.”
He drove us to the Green Chile Deli, just a few blocks away, while Anna chatted about her day.
Once we’d ordered—I’d changed my mind when I saw the menu had a toasted green chile bagel with chile cream cheese and green chile on top—I filled him in on my progress. Not much. I’d met three women, a cocky teenager, a small child, and a guardcat. Three new theories—but I was eliminating Anna’s bear hypothesis and Beverley’s one about Davo. Which only left me with Valentina’s theory about Simon’s ex-girlfriend: the Woman Scorned angle. The most promising angle—even if it was the only angle.
“So, Simon,” I said, and fixed him with my steely glare, honed to draw information from the most reluctant of secret keepers. “Tell me about your ex-girlfriend.”
He turned to Anna. “I buy her one bagel and she starts asking about my love life.” Anna giggled and Simon looked back at me with a teasing glint in his eye.
“Don’t get ideas,” I rushed to say. “This is purely about the gnomes.”
“All right.” He winked at Anna. “I don’t have an ex-girlfriend.”
Yeah, right. The body of Adonis with a devil’s grin and he didn’t have an ex-girlfriend. “You must have one somewhere.”
“The last girlfriend I had was Isabel, before I married her, seven years ago.”
Seven years? I wondered how many of those years it’d been since Isabel died. He looked far too … I don’t know … too virile to be alone that long. I checked to see if he was still teasing, but his face was relaxed and calm. “Then who did Valentina mean? She’s convinced the culprit is your ex-girlfriend.”
He shrugged his shoulders, drawing my eyes to their perfection for an instant—blame my professional training to notice details—before he asked, “Did she give you a name?”
“No, but she did say the girlfriend looked a bit cuckoo.”
Our bagels arrived with a huge, garlicky dill pickle on the side. I nudged the pickle to the edge of the plate and then watched him think as we started eating. A couple of bites in, I took another antihistamine—there was no way I’d survive Los Alamos Court without them, and my favorite brand didn’t have the same life as the more modern ones. I’d never liked the new Gen Y sparkly drugs, no matter what they promised. I liked the old-fashioned, time-tested antihistamines, even if they didn’t last as long.
“The only person I can think of is one of the receptionists at work.” He cut Anna’s egg salad sandwich into quarters as he spoke. “A couple of months ago, I had to
Hmm. I narrowed my eyes. “You said they were all good people.”
“They are.” He grinned. “They can just be a bit much if you’re not used to them, and I’m the one responsible for you being here. Come on, I’ll pick up Anna and take you both for lunch.”
At the mention of more food I only just restrained a groan. “I’ve been eating all morning—I couldn’t fit another thing in.”
Another grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Met Valentina then?”
Met her? I had a feeling she was my new best friend. “Yes, and Beverley.”
“Then, if not food, you need a break. Get in.”
It did sound good—and he was by far the sanest person I’d met all morning. Strange, yesterday I was calling him batty. Apparently, it all depends on your frame of reference. I got in and waited while he picked up Anna and buckled her into her car seat.
“Your mother didn’t want to join us?” I asked, trying to distract myself from the way the muscles on his forearms flexed as he tightened the strap.
“No, she said she could do with some time out.” He slid into the driver’s seat. “She appreciates a breather now and then to read. Anna’s a good kid,” he flashed her a smile in the mirror, “but it’s still hard to concentrate with a four-year-old around.”
He drove us to the Green Chile Deli, just a few blocks away, while Anna chatted about her day.
Once we’d ordered—I’d changed my mind when I saw the menu had a toasted green chile bagel with chile cream cheese and green chile on top—I filled him in on my progress. Not much. I’d met three women, a cocky teenager, a small child, and a guardcat. Three new theories—but I was eliminating Anna’s bear hypothesis and Beverley’s one about Davo. Which only left me with Valentina’s theory about Simon’s ex-girlfriend: the Woman Scorned angle. The most promising angle—even if it was the only angle.
“So, Simon,” I said, and fixed him with my steely glare, honed to draw information from the most reluctant of secret keepers. “Tell me about your ex-girlfriend.”
He turned to Anna. “I buy her one bagel and she starts asking about my love life.” Anna giggled and Simon looked back at me with a teasing glint in his eye.
“Don’t get ideas,” I rushed to say. “This is purely about the gnomes.”
“All right.” He winked at Anna. “I don’t have an ex-girlfriend.”
Yeah, right. The body of Adonis with a devil’s grin and he didn’t have an ex-girlfriend. “You must have one somewhere.”
“The last girlfriend I had was Isabel, before I married her, seven years ago.”
Seven years? I wondered how many of those years it’d been since Isabel died. He looked far too … I don’t know … too virile to be alone that long. I checked to see if he was still teasing, but his face was relaxed and calm. “Then who did Valentina mean? She’s convinced the culprit is your ex-girlfriend.”
He shrugged his shoulders, drawing my eyes to their perfection for an instant—blame my professional training to notice details—before he asked, “Did she give you a name?”
“No, but she did say the girlfriend looked a bit cuckoo.”
Our bagels arrived with a huge, garlicky dill pickle on the side. I nudged the pickle to the edge of the plate and then watched him think as we started eating. A couple of bites in, I took another antihistamine—there was no way I’d survive Los Alamos Court without them, and my favorite brand didn’t have the same life as the more modern ones. I’d never liked the new Gen Y sparkly drugs, no matter what they promised. I liked the old-fashioned, time-tested antihistamines, even if they didn’t last as long.
“The only person I can think of is one of the receptionists at work.” He cut Anna’s egg salad sandwich into quarters as he spoke. “A couple of months ago, I had to
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