Stranger Danger (Lucy McGuffin, Psychic Amateur Detective 4)

He shrugs. “Fontaine is a good cop. And smart. He’d probably do okay at the Bureau.”

It’s the first time I’ve heard Will compliment Travis in a long time. “The night of the reading, after Travis found us in the storage room. What did you and he talk about?”

Will shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “Guy stuff.”

“Guy stuff that included me?”

“Maybe.”

“If you talked about me, then shouldn’t I know what you said?”

As if to emphasize my point, Paco pushes his head from the back seat to nudge Will’s elbow. My dog is the best wingman ever.

“Well?” I demand.

“I asked him what his intentions were. Regarding you.”

“I’m twenty-six years old. I don’t need anyone to ask a man what his intentions are.”

“I know that,” he says uncomfortably.

“Who do you think you are?” I joke. “My big brother?”

He turns and looks at me.

Holy wow. Brittany was spot on.

All these years I thought I was in love with Will. And maybe I was, in a teenage girl kind of way, but I don’t get the same tingly kind of feeling when I’m around him that I get with …

I groan.

“This thing between us. It isn’t going to work.”

“I know,” he says quietly. “I love you, Lucy. You’re my best friend. When I saw that Fontaine was interested in you, I think I got scared. Sebastian and I were best buds for all those years, and when he chose the priesthood, well, I was happy for him. It’s his calling. But it always comes first. As it should. When I think of my life without you in it—”

“Why would you ever not be in my life? What? Because I might have a boyfriend?” I laugh-snort. “What do you take me for? One of those girls who put bros before hoes?”

Will laughs. “What?”

“Oh, just ask Betty Jean. She knows what it means. The thing is, I love you too. And you’ll always be in my life. Even if we’re both married to other people and have eight kids apiece, you’ll always be my best friend.”

“Lucy, I am not having eight kids.”

“Well, neither am I. It was just an expression.”

“Now that we’ve cleared that up,” he says, “I want to say something.”

Uh-oh. This sounds serious.

“I didn’t tell you that I was J.W. Quicksilver because … it’s not because I didn’t trust you or that I didn’t want you to know. The only reason Sebastian found out was because I wanted to donate the money to pay for the new roof for St. Perpetua’s, and he insisted on knowing where the money came from. It’s just that the stuff I write, it comes from a place inside me that I’m not even aware of sometimes. Being anonymous makes it easy for me to not hold back. If everyone knows that Will Cunningham is the author, I’m afraid I’ll be too safe with my choices.”

I take it all in. “Yeah, I get it.”

“Does this mean you’re not mad at me anymore?”

I roll my eyes. “Come here.” I reach out and hug him, and for the first time, it feels … right. He still smells heavenly, like a fine old leather-bound book encased in the slightest hint of cologne. But he’s just Will. My best friend. My big brother. My cohort in crime (so to speak).

My phone goes off. We break away to glance at the screen. It’s Betty Jean. “What’s Betty Jean doing calling you at nine o’clock at night?” he asks.