Page 41 of Hale Yes
Fuck, I like her. Not just her looks, though her wild hair combined with that one-shoulder shirt is sexy as hell and not tempered in the least by the black glasses perched on her tiny nose. No, I also like her bite and her wit.
Picking up the wine carafe, I ask, “You like sangria?” She hesitates but then nods. “Don’t feel like you have to, Nicolette. I can get Vicente to bring you something else.”
“No, it’s fine. I actually love sangria, but wine makes me sleepy. I can drink vodka, whiskey, rum, and even tequila, but give me more than one glass of wine, and I’m off to snoozetown as soon as I get halfway relaxed.”
“Okay, one glass it is,” I agree, pouring some of the stout red wine into her glass.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The goose and the gun
Helix
Three carafes of sangria later, Nicolette and I are laughing our asses off. I’d started off sitting across the table from her but moved to the chair beside her about two liters ago as the buzz in the busy restaurant became louder.
“Oh my god! You did not steal an old lady’s fake pig from her front yard when you were a teenager,” she whisper-yells.
“Yes, we did,” I affirm with a grin. “Fucking thing was a lot heavier than it looked. It was made of some kind of stone.”
“Let me guess, from what you’ve told me, this was either Dutton or Phoenix’s idea.” We’d talked enough about my family tonight that she was able to make that assumption correctly. However, every time I’ve tried to ask about her family, she’s deftly turned the conversation to another topic.
Pressing my hand into my chest, I used my best wounded voice. “You think I couldn’t come up with such a stellar idea? I’mhurt, queenie.” And yeah, that nickname happened about one liter ago.
With a mock solemn face, she replies, “Oh, pardon the hell out of me. I’m sure you were perfectly capable of instigating such mischief. Where was this anyway?” She takes a sip of her wine, her eyes ripe with interest.
“It was in the small town near where Dutton’s ranch is located north of Houston.” I dumbly point upward like that actually denotes north.
“So what happened next?”
I groan and swipe a hand down my face. “Turns out the old woman the pig belonged to was a widow. She put a personal letter in the local paper begging whoever stole Precious the Pig to bring her back.” Wincing, I finish with, “Because it was the last gift her husband gave to her before he died.”
Nicolette covers her eyes with her hand. “Oh my freaking hell. Please tell me you took it back.”
“We did,” I assure her. “Along with a note thanking her for letting us take Precious on a most excellent adventure, signed anonymously, of course. Then we detailed said adventures.”
Her brows pinch together. “Like what?”
“We just made up a bunch of stuff that sounded adventurous. Climbing Mt. Everest, whitewater rafting down the Colorado River, eating croissants at a little café in Paris.”
Nicolette’s face softens. “That was actually really sweet. Probably made her feel better about missing her prized possession while she was abducted.”
“It did. The ranch manager from Dutton’s farm overheard the widow talking about it in the General Store. She was laughing about it.”
“Did anyone suspect you guys?”
“The ranch manager did. He’s the one who showed Dutton the newspaper and told him if the pig wasn’t replaced by thenext day, he was going to find out who stole Precious and shoot them.” I can’t help the grimace that crosses my face as I stroke my chin. “I think he was only half kidding.”
“Yikes!” Her eyes follow the movement of my arm when I lower it to the table. “I’ve been trying to look at your tattoo all night. May I?”
“Of course.” I turn my arm over to expose the inside of my forearm.
She mouths the words she sees there, and my skin tingles when she drags her soft fingertips over the ink. “Pursuit of…” I see it the second she recognizes the molecule of serotonin, and her eyes meet mine with a big smile on her face. “Pursuit of happiness. I love that.”
“Do you have any ink?” I ask.Perhaps a tat on your inner thigh you’d like to show me?Thankfully, I don’t voice that thought aloud.
Nicolette swivels in her chair and pulls her hair to one side, revealing the outline of an oxytocin molecule on the back of her left shoulder. There’s a pink rose with the curvy stem entwined around the lines of the molecule. It’s the perfect mix of smart and feminine.
I feel a certain pull toward this woman because of our congruous tattoos. Oxytocin and serotonin are two of what are known as the “happiness hormones,” the others being dopamine and endorphins.
