Cast the Cards

“So… no Hole in One?”

She threw her head back and laughed. A husky chuckle that made him re-distribute his weight on the couch. Now is not the time.

“No, I think we should, though I’m not dressed for it at all.”

“You’re fine, but you might want to … wash your face.” He circled his face with his hand.

“God! I probably look a fright.” She placed palms on her cheeks and stood. “I’ll go clean up. I’m a little dressy for Hole in One, but it’ll do.”

He couldn’t help but admire the high, firm ass highlighted by her black slacks when she walked off. Forcing his gaze up to the ceiling he counted to ten. Think cold shower, and calm oceans. If she comes back and sees I have a har- on she’s going to think I’m a total scum bag. Should’ve cleaned the pipes.

By the time she came back he had things under control.

“I’m ready.”

“Good, let’s go.” Before I embarrass myself.

Chapter Seven

Savannah pressed the cold glass of iced tea to her neck. It was a sweltering summer, and her parents’ air conditioner was on the fritz. Which chased her over to Carey’s while they worked on their case after hours. I wonder if Clark has something to do with that. The case had become an all-consuming driving force for both of them.

Frustrated by their inability to move forward they’d opted to take a break.

“When are your parents going to get the air fixed… not that I mind.” His gaze raked over her. “I like the view.”

“Flirt. I just spent the drive over here sweating like a pig. I doubt I’m much to look at.”

“Don’t underestimate your appeal.” The gravelly quality of his voice touched her in places long unattended. Clearing her throat, she attempted to refocus her attention on anything other than the sexy man who sat across from her in a white tank top and a pair of sweats. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t keep her gaze from his tats.

“Okay, I have to ask. What do the tattoos mean?”

“Aaah. The million dollar question.”

“Is it a secret?” Intrigued, she sat up straight.

“No, just personal.” Red appeared in his cheeks. “It’s a memorial.”

“That makes perfect sense. Why are you embarrassed?” She arched an eyebrow.

“It’s for the three of us… I sort of felt like we died with Clark.” He placed his hand on his arm. “The rose in the Rosary represents you.”

“I’m on your arm?” she whispered. Touched, she covered her mouth.

“I couldn’t do the piece without you. It didn’t feel right. When I first started work on this I knew I wanted us all on a rosary, connected despite everything that went down.”

“Carey.” Unable to find the right words, she shook her head.

“See, this is why I didn’t want to talk about it.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“What have you been telling people all this time?”

“That it’s a memorial tat for my twin brother. They don’t ask for more detail after that.”

“Am I the only one who knows?”

“Yeah.” His jaw was tensed. He refused to meet her gaze. Setting her drink on the table, she walked over to him and sank onto the arm of his chair. She traced the rosary that faded into the background of the brightly-colored, old school sailor designs that surrounded it. There were red stars, a red and blue swallow, and a set of dice.

“Thank you,” she whispered.