Page 68 of Caught from Behind

Those red-rimmed eyes.

“What did Patton do this time?” I ask quietly.

He freezes, his fingers poised above the keyboard. Then starts moving again, quickly and jerkily, belying his next words. “Nothing. Patton did nothing.”

“Liar,” I say, albeit gently.

“Ells—”

I touch his shoulder, strive for patience. “You don’t have to talk to me about it, but I am really worried about you. You’ve been miserable more often than not lately.” I sigh. “And nearly every time I see you lately, you two have been fighting.”

He drops his chin to his chest, exhales shakily.

“We don’t have to talk about it, but—” I hug him tightly, drop my voice to a whisper. “I’ll be here when you’re ready. And my couch is always open if you need a place to get away for a few days.”

Another exhale, and then he turns in my arms, hugging me tightly in return. “You’re a good friend.”

“I love you, Kitty Kat.”

“I love you too, Ellie Belly.”

I grin then pull back, hitching my head for the door. “Since my nine o’clock flaked, how do you feel about eating our body weight in apple fritters?”

His mouth tips up. “I feel like this is a good plan.”

Snort!

“Ew!” I mutter, jumping back, my jeans now covered in Steve snot. I glare down at the tiny demon dog. “Thanks, butthead.”

Nova’s dog just pants up at me happily, having assumed a fully splat position on the concrete outside the cafe.

I’m on dog duty while Nova runs in for our lunch.

It’s a beautiful day, albeit on the cold side. Then again, it’s always on the cold side. Even in the summer, this high in the mountains is much more comfortable than the Bay Area where Knox and I used to live.

Plus, if it gets hot, we can just jump in snow-melt-filled lake.

Brisk is the right word.

“Woof!”

I glance down, wipe the snot off my pants, and shake my head at him. “I already gave you my last cookie, little terror. Don’t even try the puppy dog eyes on me—” I grind my teeth together, trying to withstand the aforementioned puppy dog eyes…and failing. “All right,” I grumble, reaching into my purse and pulling out my emergency Steve cookies. “Just one more. Nova says that the vet told her you’re getting F-A-T.”

He turns up the puppy dog eyes and whines.

I pass over a cookie. “Well, I didn’t say it.”

“Say what?”

I turn guiltily as Nova walks back over to me, a tray in her hands. “Nothing,” I tell her, covering the innocent puglet’s ears. “Just something a certain meanie head vet said.”

My friend grins, passes me my sandwich and drink then leans back in her chair. “Okay, dish,” she says.

“About what?” I ask, feigning innocence.

She swats at me.

“Shower Riggs is hot,” I announce.

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