Whack The Mole (Lucy McGuffin, Psychic Amateur Detective 2)

We get a table facing the water. Paco, I’m happy to say, is now behaving perfectly. He lays next to my feet and watches the customers and wait staff with an eagle eye. It’s almost as if he’s looking out for me, like a little

bodyguard. I can’t be irritated with him anymore because how cute is that?

“So, this is a nice break, huh?” Mike says after our drinks arrive.

I nod and take a sip of my mimosa. He’s right. Working in the restaurant business, it’s always nice to be on the other side of the table for a change.

“How long have you worked for Rocko?” I ask trying to make conversation. Other than the crime scene lie, Mike seems like a nice enough guy, and this date has only been going on for half an hour, but I can already tell there’s no fizz between us. No chemistry. No gooey feeling in the pit of my stomach like when Travis kissed me…

Nope. Not gonna think about that.

I’m pretty sure Mike feels the same way because he shifts around in his chair like he’s uncomfortable. Or maybe he’s just feeling a bit squished. He really is a big guy.

“I’ve been doing Rocko’s route for about a week now.”

“Oh.” I assumed he’d worked for Rocko longer. “Where did you work before that?”

He shrugs. “Here and there.”

Not exactly a lie, but evasive enough that it makes me curious.

“But you’ve driven a delivery truck before?”

“Not really.” He clears his throat. “Tell me more about your job. Must be fun making cupcakes all day.”

I stifle a moan. “Muffins,” I clarify. “There’s a big difference.”

“Sure, sure,” he says quickly. “Nice being your own boss though, huh?”

“Yes, but it can be stressful too.”

“Like how?” he asks leaning forward in his chair like he’s interested, only I know it’s not me he’s interested in.

“Well, you’re responsible for everything, and then there’s the long hours and the feeling that you’re always behind. And you never really leave work because you’re always thinking about it. That’s one of the reasons Sarah and I decided to close one day a week. We wanted to make sure we didn’t get burned out.”

“Yeah,” he muses, “I guess there’s all that too.”

The server brings us our food. We’re about to dig in when I hear a familiar voice shouting my name across the room.

“Lucy! Thank God I’ve found you!” Without an introduction or even another word, Brittany plops herself down in the empty seat across from me.

“Oh, hi, Brittany. This is—”

“Brittany Kelly, Lucy’s best friend.” She reaches across the table to shake Mike’s hand. “You must be Lucy’s new boyfriend. I’m soooo glad to meet you!”

If only the earth could swallow me whole right now. But I’m not that lucky.

Mike looks confused. “Boyfriend? Oh, I um…”

“Brittany is mixing you up with someone else. So sorry,” I mutter trying to catch Brittany’s eye, but her nonverbal communication skills seem to have gone down the sink today.

“Aren’t you the produce supplier?” she asks.

“Kind of,” he says. “I’m filling in for my Uncle Rocko for a few weeks.”

“So you’re not Lucy’s new boyfriend?”

“Brittany!” I say with a chuckle like this is all some great big misunderstanding. “What are you doing here?”