Page 51 of Clean Out of Luck

“I wish I could be more like you, honestly,” she says.

“What? Oblivious? Abrupt? Mean?”

She snorts. “You’re none of those things, even ifsometimes you wish you could be. No. You run toward your trauma, and I run away from mine.”

“That’s not how I see it. I see you taking the time to learn and embrace things. This isn’t an irrational fear you have. Not like my fear of getting sucked down the bathtub drain.” I fake a shudder, and Scarlett throws back her head and laughs.

“See? You had a real experience. And I’m glad you’re okay. When you’re ready to drive again, you can practice in my car.”

“That’s so sweet of you?—”

“In an abandoned parking lot,” I add with a cheeky grin.

“I take that back.”

“But in the meantime, I’m happy to drive you if I’m not working.”

I pull to a stop outside Lucky Springs Brewery. “I like this place. Who picked it for dinner?”

She smirks. “I did. I’ll just get an Uber home.”

“No, I don’t want you to be nervous riding with someone else. I’ll bring you home.”

Her face relaxes into a smile at that, but she manages one last protest. “That’s a pain for you to have to drive back and pick me up.”

“Nah, I’ll order curbside pickup and eat a delicious dinner in the car.”

That smile turns into a scowl really fast. “Just because we had a nice heart-to-heart in the car doesn’t mean I’m backing down on our agreement. You are not going to ruin this date for me. He’s cute. He has a freaking tattoo sleeve. And he even wore a ring?—”

She freezes for a moment, and I realize her gaze is on my hand on the steering wheel. The hand with a ring on it. Lucky for me, it’s starting to feel more natural to wear.

Scarlett snaps her jaw closed briefly, then continues, “I’m going to enjoy this dinner without you plastering your face onthat window!” She points to the big bay window on the bottom floor of the brewery.

“Oh, please, I can be a lot more discreet than that,” I say with a laugh.

“I will do something awful to make you regret it if you ruin this date for me,” she promises as she climbs out of the car.

“Promises, promises. Have a good time at dinner. Stay safe. Be home by nine—” She slams the door and cuts off my monologue. She walks toward the front of the restaurant, and a host holds the door open for her. I watch as a man walks down the street.

He looks vaguely familiar, and I see that he’s waving to Scarlett, trying to catch her attention.

Scarlett waves back to him, and he walks up to greet her with a hug. I see some lingering hands I don’t like, but I guess it is a date after all.

The man pulls back and smiles down at Scarlett as he runs a hand through his hair.

That’s when I place him. I was at the courthouse when I saw him. He was standing next to all the police officers wearing handcuffs.

He did the exact same hair-brushing move but with his hands locked together. I shake my head, hoping I’m remembering wrong, but I don’t think I am.

Scarlett and the man disappear inside the restaurant, and I’m left sitting in the car, staring at the building.

She’s on a date with a man who was wearing handcuffs a few days ago. She probably knows. Maybe it was a big misunderstanding. A case of mistaken identity, surely.

Maybe it was a…joke. Yes, that could be it. Maybe that man was an undercover officer pulled into the courtroom with handcuffs on? This is sounding more far-fetched by the minute. Serendipity Springs is not a hotbed of crime.

I pull out my phone and make a phone call.

Police Officer Kevin Wilson answers the phone. “Hello? What do you want, Hendrix? I didn’t miss racquetball, did I?”

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