Project Produce(49)

“Deal.”

“How’d you know I was Annie Oakley?”

“You called me about a stalker named Khaki Man, then your phone went dead. The police radio started buzzing like crazy about Annie Oakley stealing a police horse.” He shot me a pointed look. “I took a wild guess. You’re lucky I found you first. If Tank had caught up with you, he wouldn’t have let you off so easy.”

“Well, thanks.” And I was thankful. I’d seen Flasher Freak’s face just before I flipped over Big Betty. I’d never witnessed eyes so filled with hate. He didn’t look like he had molesting on the brain today. He’d looked like he wanted to murder me. I swallowed hard. “Flasher Freak was in the woods chasing me.”

Dylan stomped on the brakes, and Big Betty’s tires screeched as she skidded to a stop on the side of the road. I held onto my head and the Holy-cow-I’m-gonna-die bar at the same time.

“Dammit, Callie, why didn’t you tell me before now? He’s probably long gone.”

“I tried. Twice!”

He cursed as he picked up his CB radio and called the station to let them know he had reason to believe MM was in the park.

“I’m really sorry.”

He looked at me, and I swear I saw a flash of real worry in his eyes, but all he said was, “It’s okay.”

I stared at him, more confused than ever. “You mean you’re not angry that you missed your chance to catch Flasher Freak?”

He studied me for a long minute. “Yes, I want to be the one to catch the bastard, but not at your expense. You’re safe. That’s all I care about right now.” He smiled. “You hungry?”

I smiled back. “Starved.” A warm, fuzzy feeling swept over me. A guy who thought about me before himself. That was a first for me. Looking down at my dirty, wet warm-up suit, I cringed. “I’m a mess. Not exactly restaurant attire.”

“You look great even in slush, Mac. We’ll order take-out and go park.”

He wanted to go parking? I stiffened. I knew he had an ulterior motive. He hadn’t thought about me first. He’d thought about his Mr. Winkie. “You want to go park?” The last time I’d gone parking with a guy, we’d broken in the back seat, steaming up the windows good. Until the cops had knocked on the window, embarrassing me to death. Twenty-nine years old caught necking in a car with Marc Hillerman, a man I hadn’t even known was married. To the officer’s sister, no less. Not one of my best moments.

Dylan glanced at my dirty, soaked clothes. “Bad idea. So we’ll take it back to your place.”

“My place. Riiiight.” The last time he’d come over, we’d attacked each other on the couch.

He shook his head. “You really don’t think much of me, do you?”

I didn’t answer. It wasn’t him so much. I didn’t trust myself to be alone with him.

“Look, I won’t lie. I still want you just as much as I did the other night, but I agreed to be friends. I’m going to give it my best shot, even if it kills me. Or you do, Annie.” He smiled, looking sincere. “Deal?”

I laughed. “Deal.” Softening a bit, I had to admit it felt good that he still wanted me. But I was relieved that he had agreed to being just friends. I liked Dylan, and with Gloria so busy, I needed Dylan. Not only for my project, but for someone to talk to.

For the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel so alone.

***

Ten minutes later, I sat in Big Betty while Dylan ran in and ordered us some food to go. Once again, Super Cop had come to my rescue. I know I had called him, but still. Every time I got into trouble, he miraculously appeared to save the day. It was uncanny how he knew exactly when I needed him and where I was. Uncanny and a bit suspicious, given the fact that Khaki Man had called me Annie Oakley, too.

What the hell was up with that?

I didn’t get it. I was being so careful, like everyone had warned me to be, but the most bizarre people kept coming into my life. As crazy as my life was, it had never quite resembled such a three-ring circus before. I couldn’t help wonder why Dylan was being so kind to me. Could it be because he truly cared about me? Or maybe he was just trying to worm his way into my bed through friendship. I decided to play along to see if my theory was right.

Note to self: Zucchinis think with their winkies above all else.

Dylan exited the restaurant, balancing several cartons of Chinese food as he rounded the hood of his car. Leaning over, I opened the driver’s side door and pushed it wide. He slid behind the wheel and set the cartons on the seat between us with a killer smile. “Thanks, Mac.”