Except I do. Muffins are always getting the short end of the stick. Sure, anyone can whip up a pretentious cupcake or a greasy donut, but making a really good muffin is an art form.
I swirl around to get Paco’s opinion. “What do you think? And be honest. Do I look good, or do I look like a clown?”
Paco wags his tail and barks in excitement.
I probably shouldn’t have worded it that way.
“Let’s try again. One bark for I look good, two barks for I look like a clown.” I hold my breath and wait.
Paco barks one time, then dances around in a circle.
Well, there you go. My dog thinks I look good.
That settles that.
I grab my purse and a light sweater and head down the stairs to the café, where Travis Fontaine is waiting on my back doorstep. I’ve seen Travis in his police uniform, of course, and jeans and casual slacks, but I’ve never seen him in a suit. He’s wearing black pants and a matching blazer with a light blue dress shirt open at the collar. He also smells terrific.
“Holy wow. You look good enough to---” I snap my mouth shut before I say something I know I’ll regret.
“To eat?” he finishes with a knowing grin.
I wish I could dissemble better, but I’m no good at hiding what I think.
“Okay, so you look good. Big deal.”
His smile fades as he takes in my outfit. “And you look fantastic. Really, Lucy. Great dress.”
My cheeks go hot. “Thanks.”
Paco looks between the two of us and wags his tail. Travis scores points by reaching down and scratching him in his favorite spot behind the ear. “Hey, little guy, I’m taking Lucy out tonight. You okay with that?”
Paco barks as if to say, Yes!
“Be a good boy,” I tell my dog, “and if you find any dead people, call 911.” I add this last part as a dig to Travis.
He chuckles. “You still think your dog sees ghosts?”
Under Travis’s eagle eye, I make sure to lock my door. He’s always after me about security, something I have to admit to being lax on in the past. But ever since I found my first dead body, I’m more than happy to oblige. “I don’t think Paco sees ghosts. I know he does.”
“And you’re a human lie detector,” he adds, shaking his head in disbelief.
When Tara Bell was found murdered in my kitchen, I had no choice but to tell Travis the truth about me and Paco. I thought that once he knew about our special skills, he’d let me assist with the police investigation, but he didn’t believe me. He thinks I’m “intuitive” and that Paco, whose history before I rescued him is a bit sketchy, has been trained as a cadaver dog.
How many chihuahua terrier mixes do you know that serve as cadaver dogs? None. That’s how many. But Travis is too stubborn to open his mind to the truth.
“One day you’ll feel foolish for doubting me.”
He raises a brow as if to say he’ll take his chances on that.
“So, about tonight,” I begin.
“What about tonight?”
“Thanks for getting tickets. I had no idea you were a J.W. Quicksilver fan.”
“I’m not,” he says, “but I know how much you like his books.”
I start to open my car door, but he beats me to the punch. I’ve been in a car with Travis before, but he’s never been this chivalrous. I go over the evidence in my head.