Wrong Place, Wrong Time (Pete 'Monty' Montgomery 1)

There was a piece missing. But what?

Her musing was interrupted by Terror, who exploded into the room, barking and jumping up and down with excitement at her homecoming. He leaped onto the sofa beside her and began licking her face.

“Hey, boy.” Devon rubbed his ears, leaning over to plant a kiss on top of his head. “It’s good to see you, too.”

“Hi, Dev. I didn’t hear you come in.” Merry strolled into the room, munching on an apple. “But Terror did. He actually abandoned his breakfast and an old crew sock to run out and greet you.” Seeing her sister’s drawn expression, Merry broke off, sinking down on the cushion beside her. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just tired,” Devon replied. “The week and a half since the fire seems more like a month.”

“I know what you mean.” Merry nodded. “But there is a silver lining to all this. You met Blake. He’s crazy about you.”

“The feeling’s terrifyingly mutual,” Devon admitted. “I can’t believe how intense this relationship’s gotten in just a few days. Nothing real happens this fast.”

“Mom and Dad did.”

A quick sideways glance. “Yes, they did.”

“And, speaking of Dad, I can tell he’s getting close to solving these murders. Which means Mom will be home soon. And everything will go back to normal. Maybe better.”

That was too many pointed innuendos to dismiss as coincidence.

Devon felt her first surge of optimism where this subject was concerned. “Are you trying to tell me something?” she asked her sister.

“Like what?”

“Like the fact that you and Monty are doing better. Like the fact that you’re learning to read him. Like the fact that you’re starting to believe he and Mom belong together.”

Merry chewed a bite of apple, contemplating the questions. “I guess so.”

“Which part?”

“All of it. The way he talks about Mom. The way he’s on overdrive to save her. It’s hard to deny his feelings. And at this stage of his life, yeah, I think those feelings would take precedence over his Evel Knievel nature. As for him and me, we’re taking baby steps. Building trust takes time. We’re not rushing it. For now, we’re just getting to know each other.”

“I’m so glad.”

“Me, too.” Merry finished off her apple. “Have you told Blake about knowing where Mom is?”

Devon shook her head. “That’s the one thing I’ve kept from him. I might be a lovesick idiot, but I’m not risking Mom’s safety. Blake will either understand, or he won’t.” She rose. “I’m jumping in the shower. I’ve got to get to the clinic.”

“No problem. I’m e-mailing my econ assignment in, then starting on my problem set for stats. I’ve got lecture notes to review, a take-home exam to polish off—I’ll probably still be pounding away on my laptop when you get home.”

“I remember those days,” Devon commiserated. “I was a lot better at coping with sleepless nights than I am now.”

“You’ve got a better reason to stay up now,” Merry pointed out with a grin.

“Go do your work.” Devon’s lips twitched.

“I’m going, I’m going.” Merry walked over to the makeshift desk she’d set up downstairs and plopped into the chair. “I’m working down here. It’s closer to the kitchen. I’ll need sustenance to stay alert.”

Devon was heading for the stairs. “Speaking of sustenance, Monty’s making dinner tonight,” she called over her shoulder. “Blake and Chomper are coming. So don’t plan on getting any work done then.” She disappeared into her bedroom, Terror at her heels.

Still grinning, Merry turned her attention back to her assignment.

She’d just finished forwarding it when the doorbell rang.

Shoving back her chair, she rose and walked into the hallway. “Who is it?”

“Flowers for Devon Montgomery,” a thickly accented voice responded.