Working Stiff(33)

“How odd,” he mused.

“We should talk to Wren. Surely she’ll have something to say about it. I would call her, but she doesn’t answer her phone before nine, and you don’t want to talk to her before she’s had two cups, anyway. It’s just all gibberish before she’s had coffee.”

Cash stared at his screen. “Yes, do pick her brain when you drop these hard copies off this afternoon. I’ll be eager to hear what she had to say.”

“You could come, too,” Rox said, trying for a bright, casual tone and maybe failing. “You know, just to stop by. Mel said that Daffodil’s birthday is today, and they’ve got a gluten-free, vegan cake.”

He looked at her over the top of the screen. The wind ruffled his hair, which was getting a bit shaggy. Even in the shade, the reflecting sunlight caught the natural blond streaks. “Then I’m definitely not going. Gluten-free, vegan cake.” He shuddered for dramatic effect. “She’s not even allergic.”

“Come on, buddy. You’re practically healed up. To be brutally honest, you have a little bruising under your eyes, and that’s really all that they’ll be able to see.”

She was sort of lying. Wine-dark stains trickled under his eyes, and his jaw was still swollen. Scraped scabs roughened his arms.

He looked back to his laptop. “I’ll wait here.”

“They’ll be so glad to see you that no one will really look at you.” Rox rolled off the teak chaise lounge and stood. “Come on. Give me some company.”

“I want to get through a few more of these contracts before supper. Call me on your way to talk about how to approach Wren.” He tossed the fob to her. “Take my car.”

“I can drive my own car.” She dropped her hand to flip the keys back to him.

“The rental SUV is larger,” he said, waving off her protestations, “and safer. I don’t like you driving around in that infinitesimal sports car of yours. Anyone could run you off the road in that tiny thing and not even notice you were there.”





CLOSE CALL





Casimir was lying on a couch in the main room of his house with all three cats spooning him when Rox called while she was driving back.

Pirate, the truly battered ginger one who had even lost his ears, had draped himself over Casimir’s stomach and was so asleep that he was limp, his head hanging between his paws down Casimir’s side. The other two were farther down by his legs, curled up, and their furry bodies warmed him through his jeans.

He sipped his wine, feeling the liquid go over his tongue with an amber flavor underneath the grapes and alcohol, and he could smell apricots when he swallowed.

He had thought that he would manage to put up with the cats for that first night that Rox had been supposed to stay, and then he would have the service do a deep clean to get rid of the hair and whatever else cats shed.

He reached down and scratched behind where Pirate’s ears should have been, and the beast purred without opening his eyes.

They didn’t really shed much hair. It just brushed off his clothes. He had always heard that they trailed a cloud of dying fur everywhere they went, but that was inaccurate.

And they were oddly soothing.

His phone rang. Rox’s name was on the screen, and he held it to his ear. “Hello, work-wife. What did Wren say?”

“She swears to God that it wasn’t in there when she worked on it,” Rox said. Her voice echoed as she spoke. She must be using the Bluetooth system in his rental car.

Cash wanted to sit up, to pace to burn off this new information, but Pirate was still purring on his belly. “She was positive,” he prodded.

“She was shocked. She turned so purple that she darn near had an aneurysm. She called up her version on her hard drive because she compulsively saves drafts, and it wasn’t there. Her hands were shaking at the thought that she might have missed something like that.”

“Well, now,” Cash mused. “Isn’t that interesting?”

“Yeah, and then she—holy crap!”

“Rox?” Cash scooped up the cat and stood, his phone jammed tight against his ear. The silence of the house rang in his ears. “Rox, are you all right?”

“My God, the crazy drivers are out in force this month.” He was so relieved to hear her voice that he almost dropped the cat. “It’s a good thing that this rental is new enough that it has a hundred percent on the brakes. A pick-up just damn near sideswiped me. I’m on the Pacific Coast Highway. I would have gone over the rail.”

“Pull over,” he said, setting Pirate on the tile floor and picking up her key fob that she had left in case he needed to go somewhere. “I’ll be right there. Just pull over somewhere safe.”