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I cannot kiss Jack Reynolds tonight.
We are in the middle of covering up a murder, which means no kissing.
Or at least I assume it means that.
I’ve never actually covered up a murder before, so I’m sort of flying by the seat of my pants here. Making things up as I go and whatnot.
But no kissing seems like it belongs somewhere in the step-by-step guide on how to cover up a murder.
“No, we can’t go back,” Jack replies adamantly. “Someone saw me climbing over the fence. They probably already took the sweatshirt as evidence or they’re waiting to see if I’ll come back for it.”
“Someone saw you!” I squeak in horror.
“Just the vague outline of me,” he says far too calmly.
“How can you be so calm about this?” I cry, the urge to press my foot to the accelerator and drive far, far away from my problems rising up inside me once more. As if sensing this, Jack reaches over and cuts the ignition effectively thwarting my escape plan.
“Freaking out isn’t going to help the situation,” he says. Which is just so…I suppress a huff of frustration.
“I respectfully disagree,” I manage to say instead, somehow keeping my voice even and controlled. “This coverup mission is getting way out of hand. Frank and Kenny both know I went home with Ian. What if the subdivision guard starts to wonder why the Uber eats delivery guy he let in never came back out? Plus, apparently someone saw you climbing the fence. Oh and that’s right, WE LOST THE BODY!”
There goes my controlled voice. My voice has now gone so high I sound like Miss Piggy shouting at Kermit. Not a good volume. But I can’t seem to stop the Miss Piggy screeching now that it’s started.
“So excuse me for freaking out! But at least I’m doing something! You’re just sitting there, showing off your newly exposed biceps!”
Okay, that last part was probably better left unsaid. I mean it’s not as if I’m in a healthy state of mind. So can my judgment on his biceps really be trusted?
My gaze betrays me by flitting their way one more time; and, fine, my judgment is spot on. The man has some nice arm muscles. Biceps, triceps, quadriceps…all the ceps.
And yes, I realize his quadriceps are in his thighs, but guess what? He has nice thighs too.
Weird, but true.
Jack’s lips twitch, and my defenses bristle. He does not get to laugh at me.
“Why don’t you take a breath,” he starts, but I don’t let him finish his sentence.
“Don’t tell me to breathe! I’ve been breathing just fine all on my own for 28 years now, mister. So why don’t you take a breath. I thought you were actually going to help me, but so far all you’ve done is make things worse!”
Yikes. That was maybe taking things too far, but before I can take back the words Jack retaliates.
“Well excuse me for trying to help! You really think covering up a murder on the fly is so easy? It’s not! Most of the time when people get away with murder it’s because they had a plan going into the murder on how exactly they were going to cover their tracks. They didn’t just kill someone then hope for the freaking best!”
“Oh well gosh, I’m so sorry,” I hiss, “next time I murder someone I’ll be sure to plan ahead!”
“That’s all I ask!” Jack shoots back. “A little advanced notice would’ve been nice!” Our eyes meet and again his lips twitch. Quite suddenly we both burst into laughter.
There’s nothing funny about our situation, but that doesn’t make the laughter feel any less amazing after all of the stress of the night. We laugh for so long my sides start to hurt and my cheeks feel like jello.
As the laughter fades I take a big breath and give him the apology he deserves. “I’m sorry I lashed out at you just now,” I tell him. “That was so ungrateful of me, and there’s no excusing my behavior. What I should be saying is thank you.” I draw in a breath. “I appreciate your help.”
Jack only nods in response, his expression turning somber.
“I know nothing is going according to plan, Nora,” he says, “but right now the most important thing we can do is stick together.”
I nod, the sense of despair that has been creeping slowly over me all night lifting slightly at his words. Things may look bad, but sticking with Jack can only be good.
If only three-years-ago me had realized the same thing.
