"Tell us how you really feel," Tess said, arching her brow.
"He's an idiot, and you should thank the good Lord every day that Tammy got stuck with him instead of you. He had a twelve-step program for everything, from doing the laundry to wiping his ass. You would've ended up strangling him in his sleep, and then you'd have gone to jail and we wouldn't be sitting here drinking wine and eating bad cookies."
"You're a good friend," Tess said, wiping her cheeks.
"Damn straight I am. You're gorgeous. And I say that with no bias whatsoever. Your looks are just a little more subtle than some women's. You've got that wholesome, girl-next-door thing going. Like those Ralph Lauren models. Men like that."
"Which men?"
"Well, the sheriff for one. I heard at the grocery store and while I was filling up the tank that Cal has been all over you like white on rice."
"Yeah, that was a little weird," Tess said. "Surprised the hell out of me. He didn't seem too brokenhearted about the rejection though."
"I wouldn't think so. He's been banging Mandy Simmons for the last few weeks, but she's been yapping about marriage to anyone who will listen, so my guess is he's ready to move on. Probably a good call on turning him down."
"Thank you," Tess said. "Not to mention that I'm not the least bit attracted to him."
"But you are attracted to someone. You always get that dopey look in your eyes when you've got the hots for someone, and I could tell you were thinking about him earlier when I mentioned the guy in a tool belt."
"That's ridiculous. I do not get a dopey look on my face."
Miller rolled her eyes. "Whatever you say. But take my advice, don't ever play poker. Now, tell me which one you've got your eye on. If it's Elias, I'd pretend to play the martyr and let you sleep with him, but I'd probably hate you forever. And then I'd immortalize you in a book and probably kill you off somewhere along the way."
"I appreciate your non-sacrifice," Tess said dryly. "But you don't have to worry. I'm not going to sleep with any of them. I'm moving. Remember?"
"That's why it's so perfect," Miller said excitedly. "It's like one last hurrah before you go."
"I don't just sleep with men for hurrahs, no matter how great they might be at hurrah-ing."
"Okay, okay," Miller said, holding up her hands in surrender. "It's part of that girl-next-door thing I guess. You've always been that way. I'm not even sure you've ever had a real orgasm before. I worry about your sex life."
"Very comforting to know. And I have too had a real orgasm before," she said, straightening her shoulders. "Just never with an actual man."
Miller's mouth dropped open and a piece of cookie fell out. "Remind me to send Henry's Tammy a card with my condolences. I'll send it with flowers to his office since she's a hygienist there. Poor thing probably spends all day sitting on one of those electric toothbrushes."
Tess snorted out a laugh. "She certainly has my sympathies. But sex with Henry was one of the most productive six minutes I had every Tuesday and Friday."
"Your sex schedule was the same as trash pickup?" Miller asked drolly.
"Yeah, but it wasn't too bad. It was just enough time to figure out what was for dinner the next night and to mentally pick out my clothes for the next morning. And having it on such an exact schedule was pretty nice. Foreplay always lasted from eight twenty-five to eight thirty, and then we wrapped up the grand finale by eight thirty-six. Henry spent the next twenty-four minutes checking his work emails before lights out at nine o'clock, while I adjourned for a twenty-four-minute shower that involved that Christmas gift you got me in 2004."
"Geez, I don't actually think you're supposed to keep them that long. Seems like it might short-circuit or be a fire hazard at this point. I'll get you a new one for this Christmas."
Miller pulled out her phone and made a note, seemingly satisfied with herself. Tess stifled a laugh. This was classic Miller. She was one of those people who ordered gifts all through the year and put them in a closet somewhere so she'd be prepared, because she almost always had a deadline right before Christmas and didn't have time to think about the holidays.
"Don't think I'm going to let you ignore my question," she said, putting her phone down. "Which one is he?"
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Deacon was never quite sure what day of the week it was. When you tended to work all seven, the days didn't seem to matter all that much. There were no such things as weekends. Downtime came when it came, whether it was a Tuesday or a Saturday.
The sheriff had come by to check out the van, but he hadn't found anything. The Shadow could always be trusted to cover tracks completely, and this time was no exception. Deacon could tell the sheriff was annoyed not to have found any trace of mud or the bullet hole the perps had spoken of, but there was nothing there for him to find. Which was fine by him. The farther away the sheriff stayed, the better. He didn't like the way Cal looked at Tess, as if he were thinking about trying her on for size.