Page 12 of Sighs By the Sea

I turn away, hiding my giggles from both the boy and his father.

“My shirt got wet, then I peed.” Without a care in the world, George hops onto the couch with a toy truck and starts driving it up and down the couch arm, making sputtering sounds the entire time. I'm dying. If I don't release at least a giggle, I will literally pass out.

Grayson puts both hands on the dining table and shakes his head. “My son, when we have guests, you cannot simply bare your bits.”

My shoulders shake with my restrained amusement, and I see Grayson look my way. A grin. Glorious and brief, but it was there. Question is; All for me? Or was it because of his son?

His son. Definitely. No way would that wolf-man grin at me unless it was before biting my head off.

“Dad…”

“Pants, George. Now.”

The boy drops the toy truck and walks back to his room, shoulders slumped like we just told him his team lost the World Series. When he’s gone, I double over in laughter, already in tears from how long I was holding it in.

“Something funny about naked boys?” Grayson snaps.

“Uh, yeah, Grayson. That was funny. Lighten up, and we can talk.” The dining room feels all wrong after that display, so I leave the kitchen and sit on his leather couch. When I sit, I frown. The man seriously needs some throw pillows or blankets. Leather furniture is obnoxious. I adjust, and a squeak sounds. My cheeks immediately flush. "It was the—"

"Detective, can we move this along? I would like to be excused from your impatient bowels and inappropriate laughter as quickly as possible."

"Uh, excuse me?" I ask, ignoring his narrowed eyes.

"Forget it. We can do this over email." He's already standing to kick me out, and I don't even know why. One second, I think he's smiling at me, and the next, I'm being accused of farting at the wrong time and laughing at naked boys. To be clear, the attitude of the naked boy was funny, not anything else. And to be even more clear, I held my laughter in until he was out of the room.

Thinking of the kid seems to produce him because he comes back into the living room dressed. It's a plaid button-up shirt, several buttons undone, as well as plaid shorts of a different color, on backward. If Georgie is worried his outfit isn't the norm, he doesn't show it at all. Instead, he has a stuffed giraffe in hand and walks over to where I'm still sitting on the couch. Without a word, he crawls up onto my lap.

In a high-pitched voice, Georgie says, "Nick wants a hamburger."

"Nick doesn't eat," Grayson says with a sigh. "And Maggie was just—"

"Nick wants a hamburger!" Georgie screams and throws the animal at his father.

Grayson doesn't react. The guy has a face of stone. Kudos to him because if a kid treated me like that, I might cry. "Darling boy, we had hamburgers last night. Tonight will be something else." The kid must like the soft, caring tone Grayson has because he does calm some.

Right before he bursts into tears. Grayson's hand rubs down his face, but he doesn't move. Okay, this is getting into territory I'm not sure I'm supposed to explore. I walk over to where the toy is on the floor and pick it up. With it in front of my face, I say in a high-pitched voice. "Georgie! Why you cry?"

Georgie makes noises that might be considered words to a more affluent speaker of child. To me, it's nothing but sobs and mumbles. Still using my best Nick the Giraffe voice, I say, "Oh! That is sad!" And I pretend to cry with him.

Grayson is at my side and leans over to my ear. "Are you trying to make this worse?"

With my mouth half-closed, I say, "Trauma counselor taught me this. Acknowledge their feelings, then try to fix things."

He pinches the bridge of his nose and squeezes his eyes shut. To his credit, he does step back. Kneeling down, I use the Giraffe's hoof to grab Georgie's hand. "Maybe Daddy will let us have one of those cookies if we eat not burgers tonight?"

And that does it. Georgie's eyes stop leaking, and he gazes up to his dad. Fuck me. If those doe eyes were ever pointed my way, well, hamburgers every night it would be. To help, I turn Nick around too. "Please, Daddy?" I ask in Nick's voice.

"Of course. They were for dessert tonight regardless of dinner." I roll my eyes. He might have the protective thing down, but dude seriously lacks in the flexibility department.

Both Nick's front hooves shoot up to the ceiling. Before I can stop myself, I'm making Nick dance around. "Come on, Georgie! We get cookies later!" Nick cries out. Georgie is on his feet and starts doing an odd little dance. Mostly his butt is shaking around, his elbows flying like he is in a cage match. It's infectious, and I start wiggling my butt too.

Any second now, I expect Grayson to yell out for us to stop being ridiculous. But the overhead lights flash on and off, and I shimmy around to find him flipping the switch with a smile. My head tilts back in a long laugh before I finally stop my ridiculous display of unprofessional LAPD behavior. "Okay, Georgie, let's go play trucks now. The adults need to be boring." I toss Nick back to Georgie, and he sprints out of the room, making Nick talk the entire time.

Huffing and puffing, I fall onto his couch with a loud plop. Grayson follows behind me and sits on his recliner across the room. His intense stare is unnerving me, so I tuck some of the hair that fell out of my ponytail back up. "Uh, sorry. That was probably—"

"I appreciate the assist, Detective."

"Maggie," I say, my tone stern. Hearing him call me detective sucks. I need to hear him say Maggie again. Mostly so I can replay it later on in the shower.

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