Page 37 of Fiona and the Fixer

“Are you friends with Hannah? Such a sweet thing, she is.”

She was sweet, except with Jack. I had a feeling she didn’t let him get away with murder. Literally and figuratively.

“I’m friends with her man Jack. I’m cat sitting while they’re away and Mrs. Metcalf roped me into covering the place.”

“Mrs. Metcalf’s my sister.”

That explained a lot. I had a feeling Dottie could also get people to fall in line the same way as her sister had trapped me. A smile.

She looked to Fiona. “She worked with Hannah at thelibrary.” Then me. “If you’re filling in, aren’t you supposed to be at the store?”

A sly grin spread across her face as she glanced between the two of us.

Her gaze was filled with interest, eagerness, and kindness. Fiona looked murderous, especially when she crossed her arms over her chest.

“I closed early,” I told her. “It’ll be okay for a day, I’m sure.” I wasn’t sure, but it was a bookstore, not an asshole cat who acted like he was starving but was fed this morning. Both Pancake and the store would be fine until morning.

“What is it you do when you’re not working at a romance bookstore?” she asked.

Fiona arched a brow and cocked her head. She seemed to want to know as well.

Not a chance, lady.

“Dottie, what did you bring for us to eat? It smells so good.” I lifted a corner of the foil and peeked beneath. The scent of garlic and zesty spices made my mouth water. “We’ve been finishing off the rice you brought over, and I have to say, it’s the best I ever tasted.” I winked at her.

“They’re my famous burritos. Veggie and bean.” She leaned in and stage whispered. “She’s a vegetarian.”

I nodded. “Got it.”

“They’re smothered in green chile sauce,” she added. “Hope you like it spicy.”

I looked directly at Fiona when I responded. “I love it spicy.”

“Thank you so much for thinking of me, again,” Fiona gushed, taking hold of Dottie’s shoulders and aiming her toward the front door. “I’m sure you don’t want to miss any of your granddaughter’s T-ball game.”

Dottie glanced at her watch. “Ah, yes. I’ve got the orange slices for the seventh inning stretch. Can’t be late or there will be hell.” With a little wave, she scampered out as quickly as she came. “I’ll call you tomorrow about craft night,” she called.

I frowned as the front door closed behind her. “Craft night?”

Fiona shook her head and went to the burritos. “No idea.”

She pulled off the foil. Fuck, they looked good. Little footballs of veggie goodness covered in green chile sauce, melted cheese, chopped tomatoes, and even slivers of green onion.

“What’s this aboutboyfriend?” she asked. “Are you insane? That’ll be spread around T-ball faster than head lice.”

I shrugged, not too concerned. “No Scotts for you.”

“I’m not interested in Scott.” The plate of rice–which was almost gone–was abandoned when Fiona grabbed her fork and pulled the dish of burritos toward her.

“Good.” If she wanted dick, I had one. “Who the hell is Scott?”

“Pops’ grandson.”

“Who’s Pops?”

She cocked her head. “You don’t live here in Coal Springs, do you?”

“No. You really don’t eat meat?”

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