Page 41 of High Density

JD

Everything comesto you in the right moment. Be patient.

Right.

I’m not sure where I read that, but I’m about done with patient. Trying to ignore the sound of the shower running, mental images of Janey naked in the shower, do little to calm the hunger in my blood.

At this point, I’m more inclined to go withcarpe diem.

I’m already standing right outside the bathroom door when I hear Janey’s phone ring over the sound of running water. Abruptly the shower is turned off and I hear her voice as she answers the call. I quickly retrace my steps to the kitchen, and by the time I hear the bathroom door open, my head is stuck in her fridge. From the outside giving the appearance I’m lookingfor food, when really, I’m attempting to cool down the blood still running hot through my veins.

Patience.

Not that there’s any food in here anyway. A couple of beers, milk, a container of Greek yogurt, a limp stalk of celery, a questionable piece of cheese, and an assortment of condiments, but not much else. It’s close to dinnertime and I’m starving. I’m sure Janey must be as well. Neither of us had any lunch today. Depending on what that phone call was about, I’m thinking a quick takeout or even delivery may be the way to go.

“That was the sheriff,” Janey announces as she walks in, wearing a pair of leggings and an oversized shirt. Her hair is wrapped in a towel on top of her head, and her face is flushed from the shower. It’s not hard to imagine putting that color on her cheeks when I make her come.Hard.

“Yeah?” I manage, after clearing my throat.

“The Kalispell office is apparently sending a couple of agents straight here. We’ve been asked to stick around.”

I glance at the digital clock on the stove. It takes about an hour and a half to get here, so even if they leave immediately, I don’t see them arriving before eight, eight thirty at the earliest.

“I’ll have enough time to run into town and grab us some food. Your fridge is empty.”

“I know. It’s been so busy; I just haven’t had a chance to?—”

“Not a criticism,” I interrupt her, as I reach for a wet strand of hair that escaped her towel and tuck it behind her ear. “Just an observation. What do you feel like eating?”

She slowly shakes her head. “I’m too hungry to care. Something quick and easy; burger, pizza, whatever you feel like. I’m easy.”

“Ever tried a pizza from Cheesy Pies?”

“No. I’ve never even heard of that restaurant.”

“Cheesy Pies is another food truck. It’s usually parked beside the VFW club off California Avenue.”

She smirks. “You have a thing for food trucks, don’t you?”

I shrug. “Maybe.”

The truth is, you can get some of the best grub at food trucks. They’re small businesses, often run by an individual or a family whose entire livelihood is dependent on that income. Their reputation is everything. They’re invested, cook with passion, and it shows in the food they serve.

“Sure, I enjoyed the last food truck you took me to.”

“Any preference for pizza?”

“I’m not big on anchovies, but other than that, I’m game for just about anything.”

“Their signature pie is topped with potato, onion, bratwurst, and beer cheese,” I describe my personal menu favorite.

Her eyes widen at the unusual list of toppings.

“That’s unique. Sure, I’m game, and while you’re picking up dinner, I’m going to run over to the clinic to check on Red and grab any messages.”

I put in a quick call to place my order so it’s ready when I get there. Then I turn to Janey and cup her face in my hands. I notice her nose has a faint sprinkling of freckles and her lashes are long and dark against the blue of her eyes.

“You know you’re way too tempting, right?”

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