Page 2 of Turkey Trouble

“A hippie flower hugging always-happy freak?”

My second in charge only shrugs, unoffended by my intolerance. “She’s loud and cute and likes to party and has no problem sharing her bed with random, handsome men.” But then she quips, “Kinda like you.”

Burn. “One time. And I married him. Go to family dinner, send your mother my regards. Assure her I’m happily spending the holidays with my family.”

“You said sex and subs!”

“Yes. My husband, and good food, are my family. Cato knows to clear out. Tim is busy running the bar tonight. You’ll be with your family. Felix will get laid on the East Coast. Micah, too, since Tiia is healing up nicely. Did I miss anyone?”

“Fletch.” Like she somehow proves a point, she sits back and broadens her shoulders. “You forgot poor, sweet Charlie Fletcher. His parents are tools, his ex-wife is a whore, and his best friend will be, according to you, too busy to spend time with him on this holiday. The first since Jada’s spiral, might I remind you.”

“So you take Fletch to meet your family,” I faux-smile. “Introduce him to the grooms. Let Mia be the star of the show. Hell, introduce Fletch to your hoe sister. They can be each other’s gift this year.”

Her nose wrinkles. Because maybe it’s all fun and games to know her sister has casual sex sometimes. But it’s something else entirely to consider that casual sex to be with someone she knows and cares about.

“You forgot Fifi.” She firms her lips. Another imaginary point for her, I suppose. “Her mother is a dead narcissist. Her father isdead. She doesn’t even have Mia to distract her, and now she has that new fandangled job. It’s only been a couple of weeks, so it’s not like she’s made friends yet.” Sitting forward, she presses her hands together dramatically. “Won’t you think of Fifi?”

“Take Fifi to family dinner. Take Fletch. Grab Hoe Katie. Toss them all in a room and see what happens.” I open my desk drawer and take out my buzzing phone, spying Archer Malone’s name flashing for attention. But I look to Aubree first. “Problems solved, and I still get laid. I’m looking forward to my subs. I want to get semi-drunk, and I choose to express my thanks in bed. With Archer and no one else. Now go.” I wave her off in an entirely dismissive, asshole way. So of course, her eyes narrow to slits. “I have to take this personal call.”

She stands, slow and evil-like. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Mayet. This is a family holiday, and you’re choosing to smite it all in the name of sex. Whatever punishment is coming for you, you asked?—”

“Uh-huh. Okay.” I swipe to answer and bring the phone to my ear. “You better not be calling to tell me you’ve caught a case.”

Archer’s chuckle is sultry and sexy. But best of all, the squeak of his desk chair tells me he’s still at the station. If he had a case, he’d be in the car. “Good afternoon, Chief Mayet. It’s good to hear your voice.”

“Yours, too.” I smile and wave as Aubree stalks out of my office, the door swinging closed and her curvy backside plopping into her chair on the other side of the glass. “Aubree’s cranky at me.”

“Were you mean to her?” He lowers his voice, an almost admonishing tone. “You have to really try to piss her off. She’s chronically happy, so if you’ve upset her, I feel it’s because you were being especially unkind.”

“I wasn’t being unkind! I declined a Thanksgiving dinner with the whole hippie clan, and I’m saying no to Justin and his crazies, too. And since we’re on the topic, I choose not to be responsible for Cato’s, Tim’s, Fletch’s, or Fifi’s Thanksgiving happiness, either. This isourfirst holiday together, so I’m choosingus.”

“Which is a perfectly reasonable choice to make. Wanna eat first, then fuck, or…?”

“Order our food,” I whisper and grin. Though outside my office, Aubree scowls over her shoulder. “Fuck while we wait for the delivery guy. Then we can eat. Then we can go to bed again.” I plaster the phone to my ear. “I think we can manage a few, since it’s not infusion night and Cato won’t be at the apartment.”

“And you haven’t talked to Felix, right?”

“Hell no. His missed calls are stacking up, but I send him to voicemail every time.”

“Good girl. I’m proud of you.”

“Yeah, because I’m devastated about not talking to him. What time are you leaving work?”

“Five thirty, right after Lieutenant Fabian releases us from our meeting. You?”

“Five.” I cross one leg over the other and glance down at the hem of my white coat. “I’m not accepting calls from anyone else. Fake-Fifi is taking messages and I’ve autopsied six DBs today, so I’m calling it. I did my fair share.”

“Six is a lot. More than usual?”

“On par for Thanksgiving, given the statistics. Night shift will take over where we leave off. Besides, half of my staff is already gone, so unless an order comes from a judge personally, I’m not touching another body.”

“Except your own,” he murmurs. “Since you’ll have a thirty-minute head start, I expect you to be in our room, Minnnka. Waiting for me. Touching.”

“You’re being bossy.”

“I bought you a gift,” he teases. “It’s at the foot of our bed. Gold box. Red ribbon. Open it before I get home, then wait for me. Legs open, preferably.”

“It’s not my birthday yet.” I steal a look to my left, though I refuse to make eye contact with the techs who walk past my office. “I didn’t get you a gift.”

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