Page 19 of A Longtime (and at one point Illegal) Crush

She tried the doorknob. It was unlocked.

6

Kye put his hand on her arm to stop her. “It’s illegal to walk into a stranger’s house.”

She pushed the door open a crack. “We’ve already established that I’m a rule breaker.”

He didn’t let go of her arm. “Yeah, that’s why I’m not letting you walk into his house. He could think it’s a burglary and shoot you.”

Only if he was sober enough to shoot straight. “You were literally threatening to kidnap him earlier.”

“And I’ll make sure he’s unarmed when I do that.”

Kye had a point, but she nudged the door open more with her foot. A messy front room greeted them. Beyond that, she could see a dirty kitchen. Dishes looked as if they were colonizing the countertops. No sign of life down the hallway. She pointed to the coffee table where a set of keys and a wallet lay next to cigarette boxes. “He’s either a sound sleeper or he went out for a walk. He wouldn’t have left his keys and wallet here otherwise.”

“We can wait for a few minutes and see if he shows up.” Kye shut the door. “We shouldn’t be peering into his home in the meantime.” He scrolled through his maps. “Not a lot around here he would walk to…”

Elsie stared down the street at the row of silent homes and the barren trees, pitchforked into the sky. “We should get our strategy straight. If Mr. Travers doesn’t agree to come with us after ten minutes, we’ll do the good cop-bad cop routine. I’ll be the bad cop.”

Kye took his attention from his phone long enough to give her an incredulous look. “You think you can intimidate him?”

“I’ll be demanding and hysterical. Men hate that. You’ll be the voice of reason.” She waved her hand at him. “It’s believable because you’re a math teacher.”

He tilted his chin down. “Am I supposed to open with that? ‘Hi, I’m a math teacher friend of your future son-in-law.’”

“You won’t have to tell him. He’ll know your profession from that pen you have tucked into your plaid shirt.”

Kye looked down at his shirt. “Lots of people wear plaid shirts—ranchers, for example. And what’s wrong with carrying a pen? They come in handy.”

“You have to be the good cop because you’re the law-abiding one. I’m the one that does this sort of thing.” She opened the front door again, took a step inside, and called, “Mr. Travers? Are you home? We’ve come all the way from Lark Field to talk to you.”

Kye pulled her back onto the steps “You can’t do that.”

“Said like a true good cop.”

A sound came from the back of the house. A thump like someone falling out of bed. Trudging footsteps followed. A bleary-eyed, unshaven Mr. Travers peeked out of the hallway at them. “Who are you?” he demanded, not at all happy to see visitors.

Elsie smiled at him brightly, like this was all a normal social call. “Hi, I’m Elsie Clark, one of Olivia’s friends. We’re here to take you to the wedding.”

Mr. Travers slouched into the hallway, rubbing his face. He wore a sweatshirt and a pair of flannel pajama bottoms. “I already told them I couldn’t go.”

“I’ve got a suit you can borrow,” Kye said.

Mr. Travers squinted at Kye, taking in his height. “I’d look like a kid playing dress-up in your clothes.”

“We can find something for you. I know a few guys who are close to your size.”

Mr. Travers smacked his lips like he had a bad taste in his mouth. He probably did, after all the drinking last night. “That’s nice of you to offer, but I don’t go where I’m not wanted.”

“You’re wanted,” Elsie said. “Olivia wants you there. You should be there for your daughter’s wedding.”

Mr. Travers wandered into the kitchen, shaking his head. “It’ll just cause problems if I show up. There’ll be a whole chapel full of people judging me, all thinking that I didn’t do enough for my family.”

Okay, granted, maybe, but he’d picked a fine time to start caring what people thought of him.

Mr. Travers pulled open the fridge door and took out a beer.

Despite Kye’s instructions to Elsie about not going into the house uninvited, he strode inside, made a bee-line to Mr. Travers, and plucked the beer can away from him before he could drink more than a sip. “You need some food in your system. Why don’t we go to a drive-through, and I’ll buy you some breakfast?”

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