Page 16 of Building What's Meant to Be

They will pay for this little turn of events. They will pay with my laughter at their expense. I thought the days of playing practical jokes on Bess and Mae were over—especially after my baby sister shared that the way Taylor and I used to torment her with ghost stories and all manner of mischief upset her deeply. He was my best friend back in the day and is her husband now. I called it quits on being a big brother rascal.

Then they had to go and get me arrested. Granted, had it been anyone else breaking into the mayor’s house and making a getaway, I would’ve encouraged the community watchdog behavior. Especially since I plan to be the future mayor.

Thankfully, Twinky is safe in an undisclosed location.

Tinsley steps closer to the bars and I back away, washing my face of recognition when I feel my brows knit together from surprise at this turn of events.

“Fuller,” Officer Henley calls.

“Yes, sir,” I say, on my best behavior.

“For the last time, will you please tell me where you put Twinky.”

I pat my trim stomach. “As I mentioned, I haven’t had a Twinkie in years.” My eyes flit to his modest paunch. “However, I do know where you can get a doughnut. Also, Butterbury is renowned for its pies at the Starlight Diner and the Sweethearts Bakery & Café has delicious chocolate and baked goods, but I’m probably biased.”

He barely conceals rolling his eyes at the ceiling. I mentally convey that the best way to tolerate my antics is to count slowly to ten. I’ve had to do so more than a few times because without my phone in here, I can’t look up pictures of cute cats.

“Fuller, you know the Twinky that I’m talking about. The mayor’s cat. Eyewitnesses say they saw you climb out the window with it in your arms.” He looks down at the report. “And I quote, ‘The suspect stuffed the cat in a baby carriage, closed the top and zipped up the sides. He looked both ways before crossing the street and then ran at a sprint past the dog play park. On the corner of Spring Street and Elm, a terrier got loose and started chasing the assailant. The wheel busted off the carriage and there was a lot of zigging and zagging.’ Shall I continue?”

It wasn’t my finest moment.

“You stole a cat?” Tinsley Humber speaks for the first time. Her tone is one of shock and dismay.

“I didn’t steal a cat.” Irescuedthe feline from a cage in the mayor’s garage. I hardly entered and I didn’t break. Really, I consider it public service. Potentially evidence.

“Your voice sounds familiar,” she says.

“Miss, I’m going to ask you to hang tight while I process you both. Today is the busiest day in Butterbury since Les Streckle broke into the Easton Estate. I had to pursue him in a high-speed chase when he tried to get out of Dodge.”

I let my gaze float over her from top to bottom. I may have found a few twigs in my hair after I landed in the bush earlier,but at least I’ve showered and changed in the last few days. Tinsley Humber is wearing the same sequined dress when I briefly saw her while at the house in Malibu. Is she on the run or did she run out of gas here in Butterbury? My mind sparks with questions...among other things.

“Last time, Aiden. Just tell the truth and this can be over. Did you steal Gatlin Stoll’s cat?”

“No.” Also not a lie because as I pieced details together while still in LA, I concluded that Twinky isn’t actually the mayor’s cat. Rather, Twinky has now experienced an abduction and a rescue. Or, more accurately, in this case, a cat-napping.

Not to be confused with a nap, which I could sure go for right about now.

Officer Henley returns to his desk, no doubt writing up his report, reminding me of the calls I made to Tinsley. Likely, she heard snippets of my voice or may have noticed me at the house in Malibu. Let’s hope not. I try to keep a low profile. Not only am I the King of Pranks, but I’m also a chameleon.

Her eyes get heavy as she gazes into mine. “A sweet southern voice,” she says, imitating a drawl. “Like honeydew melon fresh off the vine. Like the slow drip of molasses. A hot, sultry summer afternoon.”

I blink a few times to keep myself from getting hypnotized. As if defying my better sensibilities, a rumble springs up inside of me. It’s like thunder in the distance, warning me of an incoming storm that’ll change the landscape. My inner landscape.

Tinsley bounces on the balls of her sparkly high heels. “How’d I do?”

“How do you do?” I’m starting to wonder if she has a hearing or communication problem, given the phone call earlier and now this.

“No, how did I do reciting those lines? Don’t you recognize them? They’re fromA Golden Deception in Texas. I read for the part of Annabelle Alden.” She gazes at her hands. “Didn’t get it, obviously.”

I hardly notice that I have an accent, a slight one at best. But it’s time to play a role of my own. “It’s not every day you see a beautiful woman with immeasurable talent in a place like this.”

Her eyes flick to mine and her lips quirk with laughter. “Immeasurable talent?” Her voice fills with disbelief.

Perhaps my slick undercover schtick when I channel James Bond isn’t what I chalked it up to be. “Too much? Did I lay it on too thick?”

She holds her thumb and forefinger a measure apart. “A tad.”

“Well, I wasn’t playing about the beautiful part.” Truly. The inner rumble like a low wind rolling through a canyon and growing louder by the minute confirms this.

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