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Heidi groans. “I told you she’d be trouble.”
“I know you did. I’m an idiot for not listening. I need you to do something for me.”
“Sure, of course.”
“You still have the number for that private investigator we used when I had that situation?”
“By situation you mean the woman who accused you of impregnating her and wanted a big payout?”
I sigh. “Thanks for the reminder. Think you can get in touch with her and set her up to do another job for us?”
“Sure. If she can’t do it, I’ll find someone else. Rafaella has a Rolodex of PIs.”
“Of course she does. I need whoever you find to get me everything she can on a man named Dell Rutherford from Roanoke or thereabouts. I also need someone who can sit on this guy here in Catalpa Creek and make sure he stays away from my girl.”
Heidi groans. “You’re just pulling yourself out of one mess caused by a woman. Please tell me you haven’t already fallen in love again.”
“I never loved Lucia.” Which has only become clearer since I met Honey.
She snorts. “I know that, but you thought you loved her, and I hate what it did to you when she cheated. I can’t handle you with a broken heart again.”
“I’ve got it under control. I just want to keep Honey safe.”
“Right.” Sarcasm drips from the word. “I’ll just do my job and keep my opinions to myself, then.”
“Pretty sure that’s what I pay you for.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Honey
I glance at the man in the furry costume tromping through the woods next to me. “Are you able to leave the house without that costume on?”
After overhearing his phone call, one more puzzle piece has slid into place. I still don’t know what he does for a living, but I know he’s hiding out here because of a bad break-up.
No wonder he wants to be alone and his house is such a wreck all the time.
He’s suffering a broken heart.
I still have a feeling, one I’m doing my best to ignore, that he’s lying about being a professor. I suspect, because history has taught me well, that he’s involved in something less than legal.
Pretty sure it’s nothing violent, since he stopped me from killing a spider before we left his house, but I’m not counting out any possibilities for sure.
His head tilts to the side, but I can’t see his human eyes, so I have no idea if he’s actually looking at me. It’s not like I was the best at reading this guy before he put the suit on, but he’s like a brick wall now.
“You’ve seen me outside without Bert.”
“Who’s Bert?” It only takes a moment for it to sink in. “Oh, my Goddess, you’re talking about the costume. You have a Bigfoot alter-ego?” Laughing feels good. Look at me, I’m in the woods, talking and laughing just like I’m somewhere safe. I’m not thinking about the creepy-crawlies or the furry biting things. I can conquer my fear.
Mac huffs. “It’s not an alter ego. I just named the suit. Bert the Bigfoot.”
“Uh-huh. And when you go out in the woods to scare the tourists, it’s not Mac Skillworth scaring tourists. It’s Bert?”
“Sure. It helps me stay in character.”
“That’s the actual definition of an alter ego, Mac. Do you sometimes dream you’re really Bigfoot, free and wild and running through a meadow?”
“You seemed a lot nicer when you were on the other side of a pasture from me.”
