The Orange Cat and Other Cainsville Tales (Cainsville 3.5)

Ricky stopped and winced, rubbing the back of his neck as he mouthed an apology for turning this into a confrontation. I also knew why Gabriel offered to fly out here, which was preposterous and very un-Gabriel. He was falling over himself to make up for what he'd done, and that itself was awkward. The more he overcompensated for his mistake, the more I felt like a bitch for being upset.

I wasn't holding a grudge because Gabriel had ignored my messages. It was the rejection that hurt. I'd said we were friends, and he'd laughed, a mocking snort of a laugh that I could still hear. Over and over I heard it. Over and over I felt it.

I don't hold a grudge for that either. I just don't dare return to the kind of relationship where he can hurt me that badly. So when Ricky snapped at Gabriel, I felt a little bit vindicated. As if I wasn't such a fool for feeling hurt, because Ricky did too, and I'd never think less of him for it.

And what did Gabriel do? Just silently waited for Ricky to be done.

"We aren't pushing on tonight," I said. "We're fine, and I appreciate everything you've done but--"

"Is it because I asked you to push on?" Gabriel said.

Ricky opened his mouth to answer, but I beat him to it.

"No, Gabriel. Shockingly, we aren't going to endanger our lives to spite you."

"That isn't what I meant."

"Doesn't seem to be any other way to mean that. We aren't staying to spite you. We aren't staying because it's convenient. We aren't staying because we're tired. I mentioned a baby. A local overheard Ricky and me talking about me being an investigator, and he told a nineteen-year-old girl whose baby has disappeared. No, I did not agree to take the job. I'm not qualified for that. But we had reason to believe this fae might have taken the baby, which is why I asked you to investigate that part. We now know the gwragedd did not take her. So I need to wait until morning to tell this girl that I can't help. It's the decent thing to do."

"A missing child is a tragedy but--"

"Stop."

"--this girl cannot expect you to waste your vacation--"

"Stop."

"--and if you do feel obligated, a note would suffice." His tone added, Though I can't imagine why you would feel obligated.

Ricky rolled his eyes. "We're leaving in the morning, Gabriel. We're at the bike now and heading straight to the inn and then straight out in the morning. We'll lock our door and bolt the shutters. Now, as Liv said, thank you. Thank Patrick for us, too. We'll talk later."

Twelve - Liv

Back at the inn, we sat out on our balcony with a six-pack we'd grabbed earlier, and we drank and talked. Talked about what we'd found. Talked about our plans to deal with the baby issue. Talked about where we'd go when we left tomorrow. Talked about everything that was not related to Gabriel or the problems we'd left in Chicago and Cainsville. Those stayed firmly in the box of stuff we'd deal with later. This was our vacation. Or as close to one as we could manage.

The next morning, we played. Kissing in bed. Teasing. Showering. Using the shower to test that cold-water theory. Wonderfully distracting. Then I was downstairs getting breakfast while Ricky finished up in the room. And I don't mean the fun kind of "finishing up" either. I'd have stuck around for that.

After the shower experimentation, I had offered him an exception, as I did in the swimming hole. There's a limit to my teasing, and it falls short of leaving a guy hanging, much as I'd expect him not to leave me in the same predicament. I'd gotten a yes. A hell, yes. Then his phone rang and provided exactly the momentary distraction he'd needed to collect himself and decide to pass on the exemption, damn him.

The problem with Ricky passing on exemptions? I couldn't claim reciprocal ones, which meant I might--horrors--be the first to fold. Which was very vexing, even if he had provided a nice incentive. An extremely nice incentive that I was trying very hard not to think about, instead gathering breakfast while Ricky finished his call upstairs.

I was getting a second serving of smoked salmon when I heard Hildy outside the otherwise-empty dining room.

"Don't you talk that way to me, Owen Parr. I know you're going through a rough time, but that doesn't give you any right to talk like that. Or to come barging in here, demanding to see one of my guests."

Owen Parr. Maggie's father.

I took a deep breath. Maybe this was the way to do it. Cowardly, yes, avoiding facing Krista herself. But I couldn't help her and wasn't particularly looking forward to telling her so. Owen might be easier.

I walked into the front room. "Are you looking for me?"

The guy with Hildy was exactly what I'd have expected. A decent-looking young man in an auto-body shop T-shirt with a streak of grease on his jaw. The set of that jaw suggested someone wasn't very happy about Krista coming to me. Probably thinking I was some shady American taking advantage. That would make this much easier.

"You the PI?" he said, barely unhinging his jaw.

"Not exactly, but I'm the person you're looking for. Let's step outside and talk." I turned to Hildy. "When Ricky comes down, can you tell him I'll be right back, and he should grab some salmon before I finish it all?"

She nodded, but her eyes stayed worried as she watched us go. "You watch yourself, Owen Parr," she called. "You don't want your momma knowing you stormed in here to pester my guests."