She thought for a moment, her light brown eyebrows drawing together in a frown. “Oh, yes!” She brightened, then dropped the smile.
“Well?”
She looked around as if she knew what she was saying was bad. “She said you’re a word that I’m not allowed to say until I can touch the ceiling without my tippy-toes.”
Jamie did more than snort at that. She laughed.
I didn’t.
“All right. That’s enough of that for today. Why don’t you go finish your coloring?”
“Will you hang it on the wall here?”
“I’ll hang ten pictures if you color them nicely and let me get back to work.”
She grinned. It was almost a manic one—one that told me I’d just made a huge mistake. “Okay!” She skipped back into the staff room and jumped on the sofa.
I watched as she got comfortable in front of her coloring things.
“Well, if your sister thinks you’re a word a kid can’t repeat, I can’t be far wrong in my estimation of you.” Jamie flashed me a grin as she walked past me.
“Good morning. How are you? Did you sleep well?” I tried to keep sarcasm out of my tone, but I don’t think it worked.
“Good morning.” She kept the same, bright tone. “I’m excellent, and I slept exceptionally.”
“I’m so glad.”
“I dreamed I beat a mechanic over the head with numerous tools,” she continued. “It was delightful, and I woke in a great mood.”
I stared at the back of her head as she rifled inside a tool box.
“Ah-ha,” she said, pulling something out. She turned, then froze. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I’m trying to be nice,” I said through gritted teeth. “But it’s hard when you’re informing me you dreamed of murdering me.”
“You asked how I slept.”
“Not what you dreamed about.”
She held her hands up. “Well, I’m in a great mood, and I’d like to stay that way.”
I blinked at her. “I’m scared of you in a good mood.”
“You should be.” She waggled her eyebrows once as if she were warning me, then slipped past me.
I watched her go. “There are so many things I’d like to say to you right now.”
“Which are?”
“For a start, why aren’t you wearing overalls?”
“It’s hot,” she replied.
“So put them on and drink a bit more water.”
She put the screwdriver down on the side and planted a hand on the hood of the Honda she was about to work on. “Now, you’re just being awkward because you have to keep your sarcasm in check.”
“It’s not sarcasm when I’m talking to you.” I took the tool from her hand and replaced it with the correct size. “It’s survival skills.”
She switched the screwdrivers right back out. “Fifty bucks says you’re dead before lunch, then.”
I threw the screwdriver back in the toolbox. “We’re going to continue this later when I don’t have to hold back.”
“I can’t wait.” She grinned and, reaching inside the car, popped the hood.
“I need a coffee,” I muttered.
“Ooh, that’d be great. Cream and two sugars, please.”
“I wasn’t offering.”
“I know. I wasn’t asking.”
“Give me some goddamn strength,” I muttered again, walking away to the tune of her muffled laughter.
I stormed past the sofa where Charley was coloring some tiny tiger in blue and hit the power button for the coffee machine.
“I like her.”
I turned around. Charley hadn’t even looked up from her coloring. “Huh?” I said.
“Jamie,” she said, absentmindedly tucking a loose curl away from her face. She peered up. “I like her.”
“Of course you do,” I replied.
“She doesn’t take any of your banana-split.”
I frowned. “My banana-split?”
“Yeah. I have to call it banana-split.”
“I don’t know what that is.”
She paused. “Will you tell mom if I say a bad word?”
I drew a cross over my heart in promise.
“Bullshit,” she whispered. “Banana-split.”
I grimaced.
Bullshit. Banana-split.
Awesome. Now my sister was teaching my niece how to politely call me on it.
“Gotcha.”
“See? She doesn’t take your banana-split. I like that in a woman.”
“Charley, you have got to stop listening to your mom.”
“Why would I do that? If I stop listening, I won’t know how to tattle on her to you.”
I pointed a finger at her. “Good point. Here.” I dug in my pocket and pulled out a five dollar bill. “For your troubles.” I tossed it on top of her coloring.
She picked it up and stuffed it in her bag. “Gotta start charging more,” she murmured.
Yep. The kid was a Ryne all right.
Chapter Seven – Jamie
“Three hours,” Dex said flatly, handing Roxy a pink backpack. “Three hours.”
“I’m sorry.” She pressed her hands to her chest. “The interview went on a little longer than I thought, then a friend invited me to lunch. I knew she wouldn’t be a problem.”
Dex dug in his pocket and pulled out his cellphone. “See this? It’s called a phone. It has this really neat feature where you can call people and talk to them to tell them things. Like if you’re going to be two hours late.”